The Master is a Drunk

Sometimes I really like a drink. Do you know what I mean?

I thought so...

I used to hate the idea of alcohol, of drugs, of cigarettes. An ex-girlfriend of mine tried one puff and I wouldn’t talk to her for a week.

Then Life happened. Years of it.

It could be that certain things are simply just not ‘good’ for you, cause harm to others and to the world, and should be shunned whenever possible. OR perhaps everything – and I really mean ‘everything’ – has a place, a time and a context in which to be enjoyed.

We’ve all had those phases; when we were really into fish, or green tea, or sandwiches. Likewise, different kinds of hobbies, sports, relationships and places enter our lives then leave again. Change is constant. We are not the action, the addiction, the habit. It seems that we’re much more the puppet actually, being moved endlessly by the Universe’s strings. The scenes leave. Each chapter yearns to be enjoyed and then forgotten about once more.

The Master is a drunk, as well as a yogi, a criminal, a care giver, a lover and a fighter. A centred, fixed up being as well as a loose end.

The Master gives way to all things. They possess him, he does not possess them. And so they dissolve casually away. Weeks float by. Years go. Stories are passed round about him, which he for the most part just ignores.

He tells his own stories though he knows them to be fiction. It’s fun to share his past adventures. To laugh at himself. To revel in his own destruction, change, transformation.

That is Mastery after all – to know oneself, and then forget all about it again.

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The Ordinary Body

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The Now of Power