Showing posts with label Braja. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Braja. Show all posts

March 3, 2010

Meditationally Challenged

I've been trying my hand at meditation. Sometimes it works, and I feel really relaxed afterward. Other times, like at the end of the day, my mind is a buzzsaw vibrating at max speed. So even though I'm focusing on my mantras, per my dear friend Braja of Lost and Found in India, my thoughts meander wildly and I have trouble reining them in. If you haven't visited Braja, by the way, you really must. She's an inspiration. Anyway, I'm exposing myself (heh, heh, I said exposing myself) to the blogosphere, allowing you intimate access to the meditations of Fragrant Liar. Light up the incense, people, breathe deep, and listen . . .

O-o-o-o-o-ohm, o-o-o-o-ohm. (I sound all guru-ey.)

Hare Krishna Hare Krishna

Why do they call the race for president a “presidential” campaign, for senator a senatorial campaign, but for governor a gubernatorial campaign? Are governors goobers? I mean, Rick Perry IS about the biggest goober in the Redneck union, so that does make perfect sense. And what’s with secession? Oh, I'm meditating. Yeah yeah, I can do this.
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
If I eat those peanut butter crackies in the kitchen, for sure I’m going to have to do more freakin’ planks. Probably 50 of those suckers. Last time I could only do 20 without wheezing and popping a vein in my forehead. Hello-o-o-o . . . Meditation? Chanting?
Hare Rama Hare Rama
Sounds like hairy llama, hairy llama. I hardly think the inventors of this little ditty had pack beasts in mind. I mean, really. Good god, focus, will you?
Rama Rama Hare Hare
Llama, llama, hairy, hairy. Oh. My. God. Oh. My. GOD! Start the hell over!
Hare Krishna Hare Krishna
Pûpû hinuhinu, Pûpû hinuhinu e, O ke kahakai kahakai e, E Pûpû hinuhinu e. I wonder if Pseudo knows that one. How come I still remember this Hawaiian shit from 6th grade?
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
I kinda like that name for a girl. Krishna. Thank gawd I can’t have anymore kids. Save myself from the droopy poopy diapers. Gag me. With a spoon. Remember that Robin Hood movie where the Sheriff of Nottingham says he's going to cut out Robin's heart out with a spoon? Because it's DULL and it'll hurt more? Heh, heh. I love that guy. Um . . . oh yeah.
Hare Rama Hare Rama
Sounds like . . . Ooo-eee ooo-ah-ah, Rama lama ding dong. No, no! Hare Rama! Yeah, yeah, went to vote and picked Obama, make your bed and kiss your mama. Aye aye aye!
Rama Rama Hare Hare
It's kind of like ramekin. What's a ramekin again? Oh yeah, that funky little custard bowl. Mmmm, custard. And coffee. And . . . ah geez. Good thing Braja can’t hear me.
Eh? Please tell me I'm not hopeless and Braja's wisdom will help me learn how to do this right. Otherwise, it's drugs for me.