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Hello World

Hello World

I begin my blogging with a reflection upon my early career as a programmer. The earliest memory of programming, in fact, was when I discovered that the computer can actually repeat whatever I typed! While the underlying mechanism was merely a DOS batch script and not actually compiled, the metaphysical idea that the computer was able to recognize that I had typed it a message and repeated it to me piqued my curiosity. Programmers often call their first program in a given language “Hello World!” which I suppose reflects a similar appreciation while maintaining its simplicity.

In contrast, consider for a moment the photo I so carefully selected for this post. The colossal complexities involving space travel dwarf the single-line computer programs, which ironically are developed on machines several times more powerful than the Apollo computers sent to the moon. Yet we as humans willingly choose to embark on space exploration and take our failures in stride so that we may one day look upon an alien planet and remark, “Hello World!”

Keep your eye on the ball, boy!

eye on ballKeep your eye on the ball. Know your direction. Understand the path. Evaluate the options. Weigh the alternatives. Think, focus, concentrate, center your attention. Or else… you will not make it. You will lose, no?

En-oh NO. The true master need not look at the ball. Need not focus or concentrate. Need not think. He knows where the ball is. He put it there. He can feel it. He is one with it. Why the attention? Why the effort? Effort is nothing but the loudspeaker-friendly version of admittance; the proclamation of insufficiency, weakness, and ignorance. No, absolutely no — only know where the ball is. Do not look. Do not peek. A true master never ever does. He feels. He knows.

But, our boy here is not a master. He is beyond that. You see, that cue does not point to a ball. His game is ball-less. He need not keep his eyes on the ball, because there is none. After all, what is the use? What in this existence is true or real? What use is reality, other than to be a convenient and comfortable container to the continuum that manifests the collective amusement of all consciousness.

Our boy is no master. He is beyond masterhood. He is the genius; the genius that reduces his point to the self-evidential by that frivolous smile. Is that smile not more than, in any tongue, a mere smile? Is it not the strongest of declarations that existence does not preside in this realm. It is, and he surely knoweth!

Do not keep your eye on the ball, boy. Or else… you will look the fool when you have none.

And yes, watch the parking meters.

The elixir of life

elixirThis hot beverage is simple and unassuming. It is cloaked in an aura of commonality. You can find it anywhere. You may drink it when you are thirsty, or when your are tired. You may drink it when you are happy or sad. You may drink it when you are hot or cold. It is the antithesis of modern complexities.

One must see the tea. A mug does insult the fine brew. It is best served plain — no milk or sugar. It has subtleties that the aged identify. It is as palpable as it is elusive.

Modern medicine says it is good for you… Apparently, it has “an-ti-ox-i-dants…” Whatever. We drank it before the days of medicine, perhaps even before antioxidants. Our instinct needed no science to tell us that this elixir of life actually is.

But there is one thing dearer than the brew. It is the brewer. No tea can achieve that imperceptible, ever-fleeting level of perfection without the master who selects the water, mixes the leaves, and times the boil. It is truly the pir-i dem who is your permanent companion in this, the very transient of pleasures. Teas, like hours of eternity, come and go, but hold on to your pir if you want to catch the essence of the life, not its elixir.

Times like this…

Erol HocaIt is at times like this, when it dawns on the intellect, that reality is what one assumes it to be. How else could anything make sense? Why is there anything at all, in the first place, to make any sense, whatsoever? Surely, any such sense, in and of itself, is neither analogous, nor congruent to its perceived placeholder among the entities of one’s consciousness.

A humble meal, a little wine, good friends, and the inescapable feeling that one can only master the NOW — are not these and nothing else? I do think so. The NOW is all that there is, all that there was, and all that there ever shall be. At least, that is how it seems… at times like this.

I like spiders

spiderThis one just escaped from being food to a bird. It lost a leg but it is still alive. I have been studying the behavior of these banana spiders for some time. I can interact with them; make them go to any corner of their web, or even convince them to swing up and down. They say its bite is worrisome, but I am yet to be bitten by one. I think they can tell when one approaches them with respect and admiration. After all, all know that all are, all but one.