Thursday, September 15, 2011

Hoover The Now With Your Brain


We’re barely into September and already the first crops of plastic pumpkins and ghoulie masks are making their way onto supermarket shelves. Back in August, I even saw an advert prompting one and all to BOOK YOUR CHRISTMAS MEAL emblazoned in a shop window on a 20' x 10' muralette. Thankfully, they only meant Christmas this year.


Why this urge to get things out of the way as quickly as possible? To prepare? To take the longest possible run-up?

What’s the problem with it just being now?

Maybe our preoccupation with warp driving out of the present is simply a way of fending off the oblivion merchants who insist on playing down the future. With a winter of strikes looming and the prospect of Feta cheese disappearing off the menu as the Greeks scour their economically barren landscape for a new currency, it’s like we’re gazing into a negatively charged crystal ball with positively charged eyes. No wonder we’re all going goggle-eyed about what’s immediately in front of us.

Staying focussed on the whispery business of our lives as they happen is by no means straightforward. Our senses bombard us with information all of the time and unless we gouge our eyes out with spoons, stuff our ears with cotton wool, place pegs over our noses, stick our tongues to the roof of our mouths, and excise all appreciation of the tangible (up to and including which way up is), being in the here and now is kind of the default setting for most of us. Trying to be here or get here is pointless because we already are. So why do we bother?

Maybe Buddha had it right when he said all those deep and meaningful things about serenity and not sticking your willy in a food processor (and if it wasn’t him, it was Batman — but you get the point).

I mention this because I’m now sitting cross-legged on a product I hope to roll out across the UK with the backing of at least one Dragon (though preferably not Duncan Bannatyne on account of the death threats and the terrier semen hair lacquer).



My patented Buddy Bag (tm) will soothe, relax and inspire like no other Buddha-festooned bean bag before it, transporting you to the eternal present on its abundance of pink vinyl.

As you lay spreadeagled upon it, mindful of its inner polystyrene ‘beans’ and their unique arrangement within the cosmos from Buddy Session (tm) to Buddy Session (tm), the enriching energy of NOW will flow within you (unless you have the wind or a salesman calls).

The first hundred Buddy Bags (tm) sold will come bundled with a CD of myself chanting while yogic flying atop it. Mainly, it’s rhyming koans and haikus but I’ve also thrown in a few football songs, some Amy, and a ten minute recording of myself brushing my teeth which is gently relaxing — like the waves on a distant shore slapping against a beached whale’s corpse.

Any takers? If you’re quick, I might also throw in the world’s most accurate wristwatch.

7 comments:

fairyhedgehog said...

I must have one! How much are you charging? And I'll have the wonderful watch thrown in too!

Whirlochre said...

Too be honest, I was charging rather too much. Ran into a wall and broke my nose.

McKoala said...

Hm, Buddha looks like he may be in an uncomfortable position for some sittees.

And I saw a Christmas tree two weeks ago.

Whirlochre said...

McKoala
As long as it wasn't growing wild between the Eucalypti, that doesn't surprise me...

Phoenix Sullivan said...

With dozens if not 100s of cedar on my property I'm looking at unfestooned Xmas trees daily. They don't have the same appeal when they're naked. I rather think they have even more appeal :o)

My take on NOW is this. NOW is the tomorrow everyone was rushing toward yesterday. And it's disappointing. We should have learned our lesson upon arriving at NOW but we don't. Ever optimistic we think tomorrow's NOW will be better than yesterday's NOW.

Plus, if I didn't think about tomorrow today and stock up on hay for horses now, come Christmas there may well be no hay to be had for a price I can pay...

I do love the watch!

Whirlochre said...

Your place sounds fantasic. I have just the one tree, from which birds shit all over the garden furniture.

Phoenix Sullivan said...

Ah, but you have horses and goats and donkeys but a small walk away, right? All the fuss without the muss. Except for the birds' muss, of course.