oh, the trials of a bodhisattva

A voice in my head told me early this morning, “there is an edge to every thing that we do, and it’s this edge that makes us known, not the center, which is not for anyone else to see.”

This makes sense and is very reassuring considering the circumstances…

being that, since I’m a control freak I’m in alert mode most of the time- you know, to make sure everything goes my way. There is no other way, that matters whatsoever, but my way. I live behind my eyes and so I look through a hole most of the time- at the world “out there” making messes, running late, not straightening crooked things- you know, the way I keep it all in order, free of chaos. Damage control before the fact, and I call this super efficiency. The cry baby people around me are usually upset because I keep putting their “things away” before they can use them, or put them on etc etc and they think they’ve gone crazy because they can’t find anything due to me and my maximum efficiency. It’s all in a days work, nobody dying here anytime soon. In the middle of cleaning, even God can’t take me…sorry God, you can wait, this is more important, the mangy dog just threw up on my rug. Oh no, I’m not obsessive compulsive, I’m perfect, that’s all. Animals are dirty, and people are pigs. I’m tortured by the infection of cobwebs that seem to have taken over this house. The broom is more to me than that which sweeps the floor, the broom is a weapon to protect me from lint, hair and crumbs and to make me feel more potent amidst an onslaught of outer impotence called “anyone but me” thanks but no thanks, you’re just another dog licker using your tongue for everything, try a sponge alright? I think I got a flea on me today but it might have just been my imagination. However, not all tiny black specks can jump…faster than the speed of light really…I don’t know, but flea infestation won’t be fun, better nip this one in the bud, no offense, but skanky dogs don’t deserve to live. If you told me your house wasn’t disinfected and clean not only would I shun you, but I wouldn’t feel sorry for you at all, I’d just think you were lazy and unspiritual and I’d secretly condemn you for it. Why can’t everyone just be like me so the world could be perfectly spiritual, organized, clean and aesthetically pleasing? I suffer so much when I see a bad color scheme, OMG what’s wrong with people, these women look like linebackers and certainly shouldn’t be wearing the stretch pants ok? Do I need to say get a mirror and look at the back end before you walk out of your house? Do I really need to say it? Obviously I’m a control freak due to a bigger, holier plan, a sort of rearranging of the divine order of things. I mean seriously, it’s not like the clown makeup helps make you any prettier, but you could at least learn to put it on! What’s going through this bodhisattva mind of mine is, “what can I do for these fashion backward, lazy, dirty, useless, waste of space people?” I mean, I have nowhere to go. I will not EVER sit in a chair still hot from someone else’s ass steam, I really won’t. Also, I stare at asses all the time, I really do, that, and gigantic, sloppy tits. I stare and imagine, beyond my power to stop, what’s going on inside an ass like that, a lot of heavy shit, that’s what. I stare into crowds of people and wonder how many pounds of disowned, stuck and buried shit this constipated group is packing? Then I find that I’m holding my breath just thinking about how big that pile would be- you see, this is all very real to me…and the distracting “life of their own” tits seem so painfully inefficient, I worry about the constant hoisting and wonder what would happen without the olympian sized bra? That is if they’re even real- then the hard, plastic balloon, weaponized, truly phenomenal tits are another absolutely confusing and stunning distraction for me. I mean, I STARE and it’s against my will but it’s like I get so perplexed, I’m possessed- what is wrong with all these out of control, unhygienic circus freaks? I’m not being mean, I’m just being honest- why I began controlling everything in the first place is because nothing and nobody is good enough, or they’re just plain disgusting. That’s right, disgusting and not good enough for me. I’m in charge, not you, remember? I bet you don’t even make your bed, and if you do it’s probably lumpy and uneven. On our more challenging days, I’ll have Bhagavan Das making and remaking the bed for hours until he does it right, and I’ll be standing behind him talking really loud while he does it -drill sergeant style- about things like all the spiritual implications of his inefficiency and laziness, how he’s not actually spiritual like me at all, because he doesn’t think making a bed is spiritual enough to do it properly the first time- and if need be, I’ll throw in the kind of horrible things that are likely to happen to him in the bardo when he dies because of this one seemingly “careless bed-making day” I assure him this issue is revealing a much larger picture of his low grade spiritual condition- and let’s just say, things aren’t looking good…he usually stays as quiet as possible until I then let him know how his lack of sincerity and genuine interest in my feelings or his own progress is even more serious than the bed making issue…and it goes on from there. I’m not only a bodhisattva, I’m a really great teacher because I know everything and I am a really good judge. I make most of it up but I think it’s working because sometimes his eyes get really big or really slitty like an old chinese woman- I mean I’m probably right since I always know everything anyway. But I think you can see what I’m dealing with and I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me, it’s a hard life, but I’ll be ok…I’m asking you to vacuum your car at least twice a week because it’s a really big problem here in the US, un-vacuumed cars that smell like rancid french fries- and I can’t take it anymore. I can barely walk through a parking lot without some creaturely looking fat ass with a couple whiny obese brats opening their car doors followed by this odor seeping out like mcdonald’s just died in their car. I feel faint and violated- and so I have no problem giving dirty looks, condemning or telling their vile brats to get out of my way. I mean, wtf? Clean out the car, vacuum up the french fry slime and moldy donut sprinkles please…I can’t take it anymore…hell is a place guys! I do not believe in live and let live AT ALL. People aren’t qualified and it’s just too much work for me. This causes me pain and mental anguish, people who chew gum in the library, I really hate them and I can’t stop these bad feelings. Sure the more hate and disgust I feel the more I secretly pray for the losers, as myself being the more pure, more lofty person, reciting “om mani padme hum.” Of course that’s what bodhisattvas such as myself do…it’s a big job ordained by God- chosen because I’m better than other people- and so maybe because of my great compassion they won’t go to hell for being so fucking gross. God knows I try. It’s like God put me here, to right these wrongs I get it, but seriously there’s only so much one person, like me, no matter how perfect, can do. And God knows I try to control it all 24/7 and keep it the way that’s best -being of course- my way- which is clearly the will of God- which brought me here, like I said, because of my great compassion and also my beauty sense and efficiency- plus because I’m not afraid to nag, belittle, manipulate or hold a grudge to get any job done. No pile too big and no flea too small. I wouldn’t say I “control the world” because I’d need a bigger, cleaner army- but I probably will one day, I haven’t seen anyone nearly as efficient as myself plus spiritual and wiling to be physical aggressive if necessary. I said I was a control freak but maybe that was a little harsh. You know, I’m just so humble and can get down on myself sometimes because of how awful everyone else is, let me remind you, that’s what hardworking bodhisattvas do. And I’ve had a hard day today, can you imagine- I had a man open a door for me, yes hold the door open!!! and if I was feeling a little p.c.- I might have gotten really pissed and slammed him like he deserved -but yes, it gets worse, THEN he has the balls to get eye contact with me at which time he smiled and expected me to what? Acknowledge his existence? Why!!! You don’t know me!!!! You think I’m a weak because I’m a women!!!?? Needless to say, total prick, acting like I’m the little lady who isn’t strong enough to open her own door- I didn’t appreciate it at all! Perverts and haters abound, go back to Walmart you wife beating loser and get some new big boy pants! Male chauvinism is running rampant like rats in a whore infested sewer- but that’s another topic- the brain dead, painted sluts that make it all possible- but don’t worry ladies such as myself, no one’s got a saddle on this perceptive bodhisattva, no way, now how.

Straighten your shoes, did you wash your hands? wipe your feet, is that your cup? Oh really? You’re done with it and you just left it sitting there? Stop using me! I’m not your slave! I work for God!

Thank God at least God is on my side and God only knows, besides me, how worthless most people are. It sucks being me, like the only one who can do anything right is me…

and also, in closing, just because I won’t wear clothes from old navy or eat microwave sandwiches at starbucks- doesn’t make me a snob, it makes me better than you and also more fashionable, more healthy and more spiritually aware. Do I need to carry a mirror and a scale around too? And just because I won’t ever look at anyone- and I’m a totally antisocial, unfriendly recluse who only talks to her dogs- it’s just because I don’t need to know what’s going on in anyone’s head. I mean God forbid our eyes should meet and you would smile and say, “hello, happy lady, how are you on this lovely day?” I’m hearing a lot more heavy shit that’s not so happy or lovely- ok- and it hurts like a really bad hair day- is it my fault? I think not…and you don’t want to know what I know, so don’t ask and don’t look at me and don’t even try to be “friendly” yeah right, I’ve got your number, nice try…and pretending I believe your smiling front is only for sheep and liars, stupid people basically- not divine bodhisattvas such as myself.

This world isn’t even close to being worthy of my inhabitance and so thanks to God’s help, I will continue to control as much as I can for as long as possible…

oh, the trials of a bodhisattva…

I mean, what am I supposed to do, not be a bodhisattva? Please. That’s like telling the sun not to shine.

Sharada Devi

10 thoughts on “oh, the trials of a bodhisattva”

  1. I knew a healer once who would only help those clean enough to already be well. Kind of like eating shit when you know better. She may not have eaten them, but I saw orange stains on her hands from all the hopeless Cheeto -eaters she sent away…

    1. it’s so weird because I went to a healer once and her hands were orange plus she had stained orange teeth and a big shiny orange halo…same person maybe?!
      and I never thought cheetos, but of course.
      what else??!!
      you’re so perceptive…

      1. Probably was her. She gets around…and the dust cannot forever blur her sophisticated self-loathing she projects onto easy targets.

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