In the river small, unnamed fish gather in little shoals at either side of me. Maybe they’ve come to sup a little salt from my sweaty body, or to eat flecks of dead skin, or to enjoy some radiant heat emanating from me. Or perhaps it is for some unnamed reason that these unnamed fish assemble, some explanation far out and hard to imagine – the chemical compounds of my B.O. compose a euphoric fish drug – these fish are necromancers and have come to commune with the many ghost fish that have haunted me since their consumption – or perhaps the presence of a human being is utterly terrifying and they are forced to swim near me as punishment for previous misdeeds.
When the sun sets, bats begin aerial maneuvers over the water. Again and again they swoop down and fly around me in a hundred clockwise circles. No doubt they are feasting on the mosquitoes intent on feasting on me. The warm blood in my head is a homing beacon for the skeeters and the bats find them easily with echolocation, or so it would seem… on the other hand, perhaps human blood has healing properties according to mosquito legend, a cure for impotency or an aphrodisiac well worth the risk of bat death. Maybe the electro magnetic frequencies of my nervous system compose an attractive tune within the advanced range of bat hearing, and they circle round and round to enjoy the song, uninterested in the insects.
At nightfall I head to the Zendo for a Dharma talk attended by sixty people. We have come to hear “The Abiding Teacher” discuss things as far out and hard to imagine as: non-duality, non-attachment, and enlightenment – or perhaps it is for another reason… perhaps we gather just to gather, and acknowledge together that these lives are sometimes hard and also very simple, and that the world is both beautiful and strange.
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