Wednesday May 16
- ANDREW MACNAB
I pray that the scales may be removed from your eyes and you may look
deep within to your heart of hearts and see there the flashing neon of
the true number 43..43..43..43..43.. radiating outwards in purple
pulsation to the tips of your fingers and toes...nay to the very crack
of doom. I pray that the turds may be removed from your ears that you
may hear the voice of True Wisdom coo dovelike 43..43..43..43. I pray
that you may count the 4 fingers on your right hand and the three upon
your left (you dabble in carpentry do you not) and consider upon their
meaning. Consider the 43 birds of the air, the 43 fish of the sea, the
43 animals of the earth... As jesus said, "In my Father's house there
are 43 rooms." As Lao Tzu said "From one comes 2, from 2 comes the 43
thing." As Buddha said "Change happens, how much do I have in my
pocket? 43 cents." Think of Moses and the 43 commandments. It's not too
> I'm quite sure it's 43 not 42, 43 is prime you see, and it must be
> Besides 43 is intrinsically funny, while 42 is dull don't you agree,43
appears in a
> monty pythion sketch, of which i can remember nothing but a soldierplayed
by the mp
> member whose name I can never remember (not idle or cleese or gilliambut
> guy) saying foaty-three sah!
Not to mention the fabulous game of nonsensical ever-shifting rules
described by MAD magazine called 43-man squamish.
The river is famous to the fish.
The loud voice is famous to the silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.
The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.
The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.
The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.
The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.
I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.
Yesterday I posted a URL; this one is for the homepage:
This is for a book, written in both English and Icelandic (on facing
pages of the book, no less) which I am going to buy someday.
I have long been a student of Asatru, a 'heathen religion', but have
had a hard time finding anything in it to really recommend it to others
as a study. My readings on the above website have changed that.
It appears that the author, who is an Icelandic woman (see her 'about
the author' link for pics and bio) has uncovered some information which
has been mistranslated and obscured over the ages. She does nice
correlation to Hindu/Vedic sources, and points directly to the very
center of nondual studies, with this word and concept:
I admire the author for her generosity of spirit, and for her fine
As a 12/13 year old I read the Dutch translation of the Edda and
despite the absence of any nondual or "spiritual" knowledge, even then
experienced that "something pointed to" was "beyond the words".. But
then, I couldn't have known it would be "beyond concepts" as well - and
not "just" intellectually. Apparently, the subconscious understood it
Facinating, Jan. I admit I am awed. You read it at 13 years old?
Never having read it myself, only pieces which I have found over the
years, as well as the various advocacies of the various followers, I
ask; did the concept of the 'Great Void' or Gap come through to you, in
that reading? If so, what did you make of it, at the time?
At age 13, my most esoteric experience was (aside from the invisible
companions of early childhood and some amazing dreams) success in
making contact with some 'space-Beings' via telepathy, an experience
which frightened me quite deeply.
I also recall reading many 'Dr Strange' marvel comic books, which were
themed along the lines of the Edda. Those were strangely intriguing.
Although I was a child of a supposedly 'Christian' household, the Holy
Bible was both dead and scary to me. I was expected to attend church,
which I did, but usually returned with a stomach-ache, making it
impossible to eat lunch.
It was only years later, upon reading scriptures of Tibetan Buddhism,
that I felt that I had a real direction. This was later confirmed when
I read the series of books by Carlos Castaneda, about Don Juan the
Don Juan warns Carlos against becoming 'food for the Eagle'.
...the still point...these disembodied breaths of god...