throwback

november 11th 2006

Halloween

conviction

-So, Samuel. The Euthyphro dilemma asks this question: Does God love what is pious because it is pious, or is what is pious pious because it's loved by God?

-What do you mean by pious?

-I mean what is moral, what is considered to be "good" in a religious sense.

-I don't believe morality exists.

-You don't think morality exists?

-I know it does not.

-But surely you agree that there have been and continue be religions with their own unique moral code? And that these moral code are given authority by a supreme being? What I'm pointing out is that there is a inherent tension within any moral code that supports its truth and legitimacy on the will of God. What I'm asking you is this: Is what is moral commanded by God because it is moral, or is it moral because it is commanded by God?

-You're operating on a fallacy here, my friend. There is no such thing as morality, and so your question is meaningless.

He was real smart, smarter than most, but he was so concerned with presenting a confident and assured and powerful opinion that he couldn't even listen to what was being asked of him.

i'll miss you.

not happy at all

thinker of thoughts

The great Zen master Rinzai said, "After all, there was nothing much in Obaku's Buddhism." He went on to explain to his students that the art of Zen, or teaching Zen, is like deceiving a child with an empty fist. You know how you intrigue a child by pretending you have something very precious in your fist. You can play this game for an hour, provoking the child to ever greater enthusiasm to find out what you have. At the end, the revelation is that nothing was there. Many people say in the course of their Zen training, "I realize there was nothing to realize. It was all there from the beginning." Standing opposite this realization that you cannot do anything about your desires, and equally that you cannot do nothing about them is the awakening that this realization is true because there is no you separate from you. In other words, when you try to control your thoughts, or feelings, there is no difference between the thoughts and the controller. What you call the thinker is simply your thought of yourself. The thinker is a thought among thoughts, and the feeler is a feeling among feelings, but trying to control thoughts with thoughts is like trying to bite your own teeth.

Gray’s

Gray’s is different. Usually hot dog establishments have titles like Frank’s Frankfurters or Bubb’s Burgers or Sal’s Sausages or some other alliterative combination of name and meat. But Gray’s is different. You’re not standing in front of Gray’s Dogs or Gray’s Burgers or Gray’s processed-meat joint. You’re at Gray’s Papaya.

From the ceiling of Gray’s hang festive fruits cut from tissue paper. Beneath the fruits are red-uniformed workers with lapels promising “snappy service!”, and behind the workers are huge metal vats churning away. Between the Coconut Champagne and Pina Colada rests the main vat, constantly brewing what Gray’s assures is “made from the magical melon of the tropics.” You sip, now illuminated to the truth that there is nothing better than a fruity drink to couple with your processed-meat sausage. You enjoy your papaya drink while the plebeians wash down their dogs with a soda.

“How can you tell a real New Yorker? By his loyalty to Gray’s Papaya”, reads the countertop sign. Loyalty indeed, and for good reason. While tourists may be satisfied spending two dollars on a hot dog boiled in dirty water, New Yorkers have standards. Shake, jiggle, or stir their martinis any which way, but know that the only hot dog they eat will be grilled, not boiled. Rows of frozen dogs decorate the large, electric stove covered in aluminum foil, patiently toasting both dog and bun crisp perfection. The first bite you take surprises you with a snapping sensation miles away from the moist, soggy texture of the dirty water cart dog. By your second bite you notice that the bun harboring the snappy meat is toasted and crispy as well. You smile, because you now know that no other grease food joint attends to such minute details. But of course Gray’s does, because Gray’s is different.

Sure, all hot dogs served in New York City may come from the same Marathon Enterprises in East Rutherford, NJ. And of course, wannabes like Papaya Dog or Papaya King may be popping up all over manhattan trying to reproduce the irreproducible Gray’s dog and juice experience. But you don’t frequent such places, because you are different, and now you know quite well that Gray’s is too.

round midnight

you want to hear this

watts

~ We could say that meditation doesn't have a reason or doesn't have a purpose. In this respect it's unlike almost all other things we do except perhaps making music and dancing. When we make music we don't do it in order to reach a certain point, such as the end of the composition. If that were the purpose of music then obviously the fastest players would be the best. Also, when we are dancing we are not aiming to arrive at a particular place on the floor as in a journey. When we dance, the journey itself is the point, as when we play music the playing itself is the point. And exactly the same thing is true in meditation. Meditation is the discovery that the point of life is always arrived at in the immediate moment. ~

mr. balloon hands