Thursday, January 19, 2006

Tcha! Pass The Smarmalade.

I'm in a mood because it's Thursday and it should be Friday.

This glob is also the place to bring your questions about particular things or particular chapters in The Risen. I can address some of the things regarding my own personal experiences, but Tim and the members of the Risen Team who orchestrated the book would like to handle most of the queries. K. (Krishnamurti) is unpredictable and still makes that noise, "tcha!" rather often. So feel free to ask him things, but don't expect an answer or a happy face. The text speaks in detail about the question of the ego-mind's potential for survival, but be aware that these "details" are mere gloss on the iceberg on the icemoon in the galaxy of what it means to be a being. Certain nuances of character continue to colour our presentation as we venture on beyond Earth. K. is a being and sometimes even a persnickety and impatient being, especially when people ask questions before even first trying to allow the answer to come from within.

What's "tcha" mean? In K.'s case, it does not, I'm pretty sure, mean "teatime." I'll take a cue from the Tibetan "tch'a" which just has to be one of those ambiguous connecting/add-on sounds that combines with everything to make it something else. My intuition is that, in 21st-century speak, it means "word," as in "word, bro". K. is, of course, listening in on this, and his only comment is, naturally, "tcha!".

The Risen, most likely, will not "tcha" to respond to persnickities. They usually say nothing, and tug an ear lobe. No wait, that's Carol Burnett, sorry. The Risen usually respond to questions they don't want to answer by beaming an ambiguous, etheric smile. Kind of an inner, blurry Mona Lisa expression. They are an annoyingly sunny lot at their psychological baseline, for the most part. Da Vinci: not a Diakaa, FYI.

I sometimes get requests to ask the Risen to comment on things they and I have no interest in or even knowledge of, like Bigfoot, Mary Magdalene, Roswell, Princess Diana, avian flu, and various theories. As you can see by the links, I should simply respond with a "google it!" but I will not say "tcha!" when presented with curmudgios inwhich I have no interest. But I will have to come up with my own version, I fear. So to these things I will politely say, "teatime!" and other Barbarba Pym-like responses. It's the only way I can say nice-sounding things which are still loaded with subtle smarm.

Beyond Roswell, there is the big question, "Are We Alone?" — as far as this particular manifested universe we share goes — and which I don't get too persnickety about, other than from knowing nobody would believe the answer — which is "yes."