Here, There and Everywhere

Archive for July, 2015

A Drop of Water

A teaching from Mistress Tarantino, as transmitted to Master Winnie of the Poo Chang around 44 A.D. Excerpt from Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

images-1Space, the final frontier . . . it is outside ourselves and within. We are a drop of water within a mighty ocean and that ocean is a drop of water within a larger ocean. The drop of dew we see upon the grass contains an entire universe and each entity within that drop is a universe unto itself.

It’s all macro and micro, though some may mistakenly call it retro. If you think, for even a miniscule second, that you are the center of the world or that your ego exists unto itself and outside the rest of life, you are deep within the illusory world of Mara or as some like to call her Mirror.

It is quite complex and simple. We are separate, yet not. We are part of the whole, yet we are individuals. How can this be? What makes this so? Why does it work this way?

Scientists of the future will describe this phenomenon, of our co‑existence mixed with a sense of separation, as quantum theory or the Tao of physics or some such science. This reality is the yin and yang of the one, the whole, the spokes of the wheel.

Some may find it useful to ponder such a universe or try to make some sense of it all. Just accept it as our shared reality or mutually agreed upon perception and ride the waves.

More scientifically challenged stories at: Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

I Can’t Hear You!

A sleep-deprived excerpt from Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

There was an older man named Alejandro, who lived down the road from the Abbott’s monastery. He loved playing music from Mexico and the land of the Incas and played it night and day. He was hard of hearing so he had to play the music as loudly as he could, so he could hear his own voice and accompanying drum. Sometimes, he would drum and sing until he fell asleep just as the sun rose.

A number of the nuns were upset with Alejandro and complained to Abbott Tova about his annoying, and off-key voice and drumming, keeping them awake night after night.

The good Abbott knew that Alejandro pined for his childhood sweetheart, whom he’d married and lived with for sixty years. She wasn’t about to ask him to stop, but also understood how difficult it could be to sleep when his voice and instrument’s sounds traveled through the night air and seeped through one’s pores like slow torture.

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“Please, do something,” one of the senior nun’s, Sam, implored Abbott Tova.

“I cannot ask him to stop, nor will I,” the Abbott replied.

“Then many of the nuns will fall asleep during practice and miss their chance for enlightenment,” Sister Sam retorted.

“If they are not able to awaken during sleep, then I have taught them nothing.”

“Many of the chores will not be done if they are sleeping during the day,” Sister Sam continued. “The garden will not be planted. The meals will not be prepared and the floors will not be swept.”

“So what?”

“So what? We’ll starve and live in filth, is so what.”

“You are only seeing two alternatives Sister Sam. Telling Alejandro that he can no longer sing for his lost love and find what little comfort it gives him, or letting him sing and our community goes to ruin.”

“I don’t see any other way,” Sister Sam surmised.

“Then you are caught in Limited Mind and must have slept badly. There is always another way.” Abbott Tova went to her chest and began rummaging around and throwing out one item after another. “Ah, here they are,” she said, and handed a bag to Sister Sam.

Sister Sam opened the bag, picked up a small wax ball and said, “What in the Goddesses name are these?”

“Are you blind, as well as sleep-deprived?” the Abbott laughed. “They’re earplugs.” Abbott Tova took a pair from the bag and placed them in her ears. “I’ve been wearing them for years and sleep like a baby. Hand them out to the nuns and there will be no more problems.”

“Oye veh!” Sister Sam exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of this?”

“What?” Abbott Tova said, as she began replacing the items she’d removed from her chest.

“I said, I should have thought of this!”

“What? Speak up.”

“I said . . . oh it’s nothing.”

Sister Sam bowed three times, turned around counter-clockwise twice, and left with the bag of earplugs, amazed as always at the wisdom and compassion of the great Abbott.

More deaf-defying stories at: Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

Power of Now Is Over

586613838e010d433bacb209ce65ea56c69e859e-thumbFrom My Grandmother’s Kitchen by Tova Tarantino Toshiba. Acknowledgments. Excerpt from Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

The power of now is already the past. The past will become the future and the future does not exist. Where are we going?

More koans and stories: Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

Stealing the Buddha

Stolen from Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

One rainy morning, Mistress Tarantino was sitting quietly in the garden under a banyan tree. She was very still. Suddenly, she heard a noise and opened her eyes. She watched a man climb over their two‑foot tall security fence and creep into the yard. He looked around quickly, but didn’t see her watching. The man plucked some apples off the apple tree, then picked up the large bronze statue of Buddha in the center of the garden, lifted it onto his shoulder, and started walking towards the fence.

“Hey!” Mistress Tarantino shouted. “Stop!”

The man didn’t look to see who was calling out. He began to run towards the wall. The Buddha was heavy, so he couldn’t run very fast, but he was almost at the wall when he was tackled from behind. The statue fell to the ground, the apples flew into the air, and the man lay sprawling.

The poor man looked up and saw Mistress Tarantino standing above him. “I didn’t take track in school for nothing,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” the thief replied. “Really, I’m very sorry. Please, don’t call the police.”

“Police?” Mistress Tarantino smirked, “we don’t need no stinking police.”

“What are you going to do? I’ll do anything to repay you.”

“Anything?” asked the Mistress.

“Yes, anything.”

“Okay, if you insist.” Mistress Tarantino helped the man to his feet. “First off, promise to never steal again.” The man nodded. “Secondly, please put the Buddha back where you got it.” The man nodded again. “You must be strong. That sucker is heavy duty. Last, but not least, come back here every day for the rest of the apple harvest, take what you can carry, and give them away to anyone you see who is hungry.”

The thief was perplexed. “Is that all? Is there no punishment?”

“You’ve already punished yourself with the karma you’ve created. There is no need to add oil to the fire.”

“Thank you Mistress.” The thief bowed, then took the statue and placed it back in the middle of the garden. “I will return tomorrow and take a bag of apples into town. I know several families that need them.” He bowed again and started to leave.

“One more thing,” Mistress Tarantino said. “I strongly urge you to meditate and strengthen your awareness. If you ever decide to steal again in broad daylight, at least you will be more attuned to your surroundings and will see if someone is sitting just ten yards away watching your every move.”

More thieving words at: Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

Good To Be Lost

imagesMistress Tova Tells It Like It Is. Circa 1596. Page 3,491. A smidgen from Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

We don’t know what is around the corner, but we know there is always a corner, unless we go straight, but then it’s difficult to get to a specific destination. But, then again, there is no need to get specific or always have a destination. Sometimes, not knowing where we are, or where we are going, keeps us grounded in the present and the unknown. Not knowing can be our friend and savior.

It is often the corners and our fear of what is around the bend, that prevents us from practicing wholeheartedly and without reservation. Fear can be a frightening emotion that takes us out of ourselves and throws us into the future or what lies deep in our subconscious. It is always beneficial to feel lost, let alone be lost.

Going directly into the fear, apprehension, and unknown is not easy, but it is the path we must follow. When possible, always take the beaten path, but when there is no path, road, or highway, we must make our own and not be afraid to step into the darkness, without a nightlight. And if the way is too hard or bumpy, one can just sit and wait and see what happens.

More lost words at: Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

Who’s Who?

An excerpt from Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire, whoever that is.

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Mistress Toshiba and her adherents were walking back from town when a long-time student of Zen, who had studied with another teacher for fifteen years, passed by.

“Good day Mistress,” the student bowed.

Mistress Toshiba laughed loudly. The student stopped and looked confused.

“Why do you laugh Abbott Toshiba? Was it something I said?” The Mistress laughed again. “Are you laughing at me?” That question made Mistress Toshiba laugh even harder. She fell to her hands and knees with laughter. She was laughing so hard that she began to roll around on the ground.

“I don’t see what’s so funny!” the student exclaimed.

The Abbott was finally able to constrain herself and propped herself up with her hand.

“If you could see yourself, you would be laughing too,” Mistress Toshiba grinned.

The students looked at themselves up and down and didn’t see anything out of place or a cause for ridicule.

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing funny about me.”

“Like I said,” the Abbott replied, brushing the dust off her robe as she stood. “If you could see your SELF, you’d be laughing too.”

At that moment, the passing student realized that she did not know what her SELF was, let alone if there was such a thing. She immediately fell too her knees.

“Dear Master Toshiba, I beg that you take me as your student and allow me to attain wisdom in your community.”

“You are welcome to join us, whoever you are,” the Abbott replied, “but you do not need my permission. Who do you think ‘I’ am anyway?”

More who’s laughing at: Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

Reality Bites

Singing Koans by Master Tarantino. Collected by Abbott Jingo in 2222. An excerpt from Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

imagesThere ain’t nothing like the real thing baby;

ain’t nothing like the real thing.

What is the “real thing”?

More questionable Mistress Marvin Gaye koans at: Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

Cinderella’s Question

From the wily Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

Master Tarantino Toshiba always believed in equality and freedom for all. She freely taught to one and all — young, old, men, women, children, smart, stupid, rich, poor, and even the middle-class. There was a little girl named Cinderella who had been taken in at the monastery after her parents had died. By the time she was of age, she started noticing that all the nuns would visit their master daily for a private session. She was told that these sessions were called nodzen and were designed for each student to be given a special koan (or mind problem) for them to solve and reach enlightenment. Cinderella said she “reeeeally” wanted to participate in nodzen as well, and asked for permission to do so. She was now of age, so her Master could not refuse.

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Cinderella approached Master Tarantino Toshiba’s room the next morning and banged loudly on the door (as she had been instructed). She was invited in and asked to squat in the middle of the room.

“Tell me,” asked the Abbess. “Why are you here?”

“I have come to receive my koan Master.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be enlightened and find peace.”

“Why are you here?”

“I told you before,” Cinderella replied, somewhat annoyed. “I’m here…”

“Why . . . are . . . you . . . here?”

“How many times do I have to say it? I’m . . .”

“Stop!” exclaimed The Master. “This IS your koan. Why are you here? Not here in this room, but here on the planet. Why are you alive? What’s your purpose? What does it all mean? Why are you here?”

Cinderella rolled her eyes. “Oh. Now I see.”

“Not sure about that,” the Abbess whispered quietly.

“Thank you,” Cinderella said. She stood and bowed several times and then departed.

Cinderella pondered her koan deeply night and day. She watched the water in the stream flowing by and contemplated upon its existence. When her time for nodzen was upon her the following week, she entered The Master’s room with great excitement, certain that she’d solved the problem.

“Why are you here?” asked the Abbess.

“My existence is temporary. Like water, we come and go.”

“That is not the question. Yes, we are all transient, but why are we here?”

Making sure to avoid water the following week (and getting quite smelly as a result), Cinderella sat in the town square and watched and listened to the people living their lives. One afternoon, after seeing a farmer receive some turmeric in exchange for her chicken’s eggs, she knew she had discovered life’s purpose. She could hardly wait until it was her turn to visit the Abbess.

“I am here . . . we are all here,” Cinderella bubbled, when she next saw The Master, “to share what we have and help one another with what we need.”

The Master rolled her eyes and then smiled. “You think you’re hot, but you’re getting colder by the minute. The tinniest forms of life make exchanges for their existence, but why are they here? Why are you here?”

Cinderella was crestfallen. She had been certain that she’d had the answer. The following week she spent in isolation in a dark cave. There was no water or people to disturb her meditation. In the darkness, her sense of hearing was amplified. She became aware of her breath as it moved in and out. After hours of sitting it seemed as if the air going in and out of her lungs was a title wave of energy and her body a receptacle of its life force. Upon this discovery, she made her way out of the cave (after running into a few walls) and went straight to see The Master without waiting for her appointment. She pounded loudly on the door, entered, and called out.

“Master! Master!” Master Toshiba stepped aside just in time, as the door swung her way. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!”

Master Toshiba stepped out from behind the door.

Cinderella looked around. “Oh, there you are. Master, I’ve got it!”

“I was just going out for some fresh air,” Master Toshiba replied. “Come with me.” Cinderella followed like an adoring puppy. “What is it you think you have?”

“Why I’m here. Why we’re here.”

“And why is that?”

“Because energy cannot exist in a vacuum. We are all interdependent.”

The Master stopped, put her hand on Cinderella’s shoulder and calmly said, “This is true, but you still do not understand why you are here.”

“Help me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Go,” the Abbott replied. “Go help yourself and don’t come back until you can answer the question.”

Cinderella’s head dropped and she started crying. “I give up.”

“That’s not why we are here, to give up.”

Four months later, while reading a children’s story, Cinderella asked, for the millionth time, why she was here. She realized that she would never know the answer and decided to tell the Abbess.

“There are so many stories Mistress and none of them can tell us why we are here or what our purpose is. I will never be able to answer your question. I’ll just live my life and do what I have to do to get by. I don’t need to know why in order to live.”

Mistress Toshiba smiled and kissed Cinderella on the forehead. “My dear little pumpkin. You got it.”

More questions at: Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

Your Mind’s Skillet

Taking Stalk of Your Life as told to Sister Jean. Written in 769 A.D. From Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

If you want to find grace, then be grace. If your name is already Grace, then you have no need to seek.

If you want harmony, then be harmony. No, not you Harmony, I’m referring to everyone else.

If you desire peace, love, and happiness, then become that which you seek.

“How?” you may ask.

It’s as easy as making a pie. First, you must have the right ingredients. In this case, the ingredients are peace, love, and happiness (in no particular order).

“How do we find these ingredients?”

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They are everywhere. Look all around you. People are trying to sell it to you every day. Find the best market and pick some up, but make sure it’s fresh.

After you have the ingredients, wash them with insight, chop them up with intention, place them in your mind’s skillet, and marinate them with clarity.

“How do you know when it’s done?”

It’s done when you feel the vapors of peace, love, and happiness clinging to your bones and seeping from your pores. It’s done when all those you meet can smell your goodness and know that you are the embodiment of what everyone desires.

Of course, one can over or under cook, and find that they are too mushy or too raw. In this case, you must go shopping once again and seek what it is you wish to be within without.

There is no other way. It can take minutes, hours, days, or years to be an example of peace, love, and happiness. Don’t ever stop searching, otherwise you’ll have no ingredients and there will be nothing to eat.

More life recipes at: Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

Every Day of Her Life

An excerpt to chew on from Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

It is said that Master Toshiba created some rules to live by, which she practiced every day of her precious life.

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Before dressing each morning, cough vigorously five times, stretch until you touch the ceiling and meditate upon the sky.

Go to bed late. Eat whenever you feel like it or when food is offered and never eat more than you can chew.

Never receive guests when you are in a foul mood and don’t visit others when you are upset, sad, or depressed. There is no point in having your negative emotions rub off on someone else.

Always say the first thing that comes to mind and don’t hesitate to let others know how you feel and what you think. Otherwise, how will anybody get to know the real you?

Seize every opportunity by the throat and don’t let go until you have derived some satisfaction and understanding of the situation.

Meditate on the past daily and try to figure out your past mistakes. When thinking of the future, make sure to plan ahead as much as possible, so you have some control over what takes place.

Keep the innocence of a child, the wisdom of an elder, and stand steadfast in what you know and don’t know.

Before retiring for the night, cough and stretch, walk quietly in a circle counter-clockwise for three rotations and always sleep with your head at the foot of the bed.

If you can’t go to sleep, drink a large glass of lime juice, repeat your bedtime routine, and go to the toilet before you lay your body down to rest.

More coughing and stretching at: Zen Master Tova Tarantino Toshiba: The Illustrious and Delusional Abbess of Satire.

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