The Sock-Monkey As Alone

Zan the Harlequin felt lost in the rain moving as one more prop in the chiseled stage of the theater of mud and chigger infested grass. His day had been long, his profit not worth it. The light was glowing, shown off on the roof and the interior of the theater of the tragicomedy his pure romantic mind had created. Still, he continued towards the shack abandoned in the deep holler of the valley.    He wore his long-nosed mask, that was truly his face and his ragged torn tapestry of colors in boxes that was his costume.  Red, black, and green the playing card patterns distracted from the wear an tear of his symbolic armor. All of him glowing like a glow worm, a symptom of the different dimension he was born in.                                                      Zan the Harlequin                                         "I came to search for lost time,                                          the tree of reason is no more.                                          With fruit as sou

                                                "I was born stupid , but I won't die hungry."                                                                                - Tim Rogers I have been meditating forty-five minutes a day with the mantra of "this may be my last breath." I find that it seems to make me a little grumpy because I am coming to terms with the fact I may die at any given moment. This is not a fun fact, it is however,  a stone cold fact.     The madness of existing kind of irritates me more than usual. But you know that is how it goes. I have recently been playing Xenoblade Chronicles again, and this time I think I may love it. The conclusions we reach never come to anything. The conclusion we reach only make us ask more questions.    So all I really have to say is there is no reason to worry. When we die, we will be dead. Leaving a bigger mess for the next who is born to figure out.  Coming to terms with the fact we will never know

 Suicide is not funny, it is not a joke, and it is almost always a shock. I did not know Anthony Bourdain he is just one of my many idols or, influences on my life. I bought my first punk album the dead boys debut, primarily because he was wearing one of there shirt on an episode of no reservations. His nonchalant toughness and ability to impose narrative on events while always feeling like your mind had broadened rather than being restricted was one of the reasons I believe he made a travel show impact in a way that is typically reserved for rock stars and literature.    This is not an obituary like I said I did not know him. I am just a fan of his television travel series. That being said this is going to be more about Zen and depression. About meditation, perspective control and purpose.    Zazen as a goalless practice has always fascinated me all the while confused me. It was only when I started practicing meditation with simple goals like breathing control or mantra based brai