Choices
Wakefulness
Mind
Flowers
The Fool
The Wise Man
The Master
The Thousands
Mischief
We think, therefore we are.
All those stupid things that go on around ya�,
You created all a� that.
So wise up, buddy,
or shit�ll happen.
Again, and again, and again...
We think, therefore we are.
All those stupid things that go on around ya�,
You created all a� that.
If you wise up, and stop thinking stupid things,
then stupid things wont bother ya�.
Again, and again, and again...
�Look how he taunted me,
he even stole my aglets!�
Live with such thoughts,
and you will only live in hate.
�Look how he taunted me,
he even stole my aglets!�
Abandon such thoughts,
and you will live in love.
So here we are, in this world a� Stupid Stuff that you created,
and Stupid Stuff ain�t gonna get rid a� Stupid Stuff.
Only by letting go of your ignorance, and seeking love,
will the Stupid Stuff cease to control you.
That�s just the way it works here in Robsara,
always has, and always will.
And we all will change, will all know pain and pleasure,
Knowing this, how can you quarrel?
A fiberglass car is easily crushed by a falling building,
seek happiness in food, sleep,
and other pleasures of the flesh,
and you too shall be crushed.
But the building cannot crush the mountain.
And if you�ve got yer eyes open,
ya can get outta the way,
when the roof starts to fall.
If a man lies dreaming,
trapped in the pleasures of Robsara,
how can he wear his aglets?
But if yer awake,
you blink the sleep from yer eyes,
ya better get yer aglets tight,
cause there�s a few buildings with yer name on em�,
and you�ve got some work to do.
If you think Rob is Bob,
and Bob is Rob,
you will overlook the truth within yourself,
and will become trapped within desire.
See Rob as Rob,
and Bob as Bob.
Look into your heart,
and do what thou wilt, shall be the whole of the law.
If you have not looked within,
then your head isn�t covering the hole in your soul,
and passion will reach through, like rain through a leaky roof,
and all your aglets will get soaked.
Whoever follows Rob,
suffers in this world, and the next.
And he will suffer all the more,
when he understand the harm he has caused.
But whoever follows Bob,
finds true happiness in this world, and the next.
And will find joy,
when he sees the good he has done.
Cause, you can find some pretty Neat-o Stuff here,
but it just gets better in NirBoba.
But remember, you can read all a� this Neat-o Stuff,
and you can see it for what it is,
but it doesn�t do any good,
unless you take it to heart, and act!
Are you a podiatrist,
who counts another man�s toes,
but never shows him an aglet?
Read as little Neat-o Stuff as ya� want,
and say even less,
but do not forget to act!
Give up Robsara,
know the truth of Bob,
and share the aglets.
Wakefulness is the path of Bob,
the fool sleeps,
in the realm of Rob.
But the master is awake,
and watches the sun rise.
He watches,
he understands.
How happy he is!
For he sees that wakefulness is NirBoba.
How happy he is!
For following the pathway of Bob.
With great perseverance,
he ties his shoes,
seeking the perfect alignment of aglets.
So wake up, tie yer shoes, and watch the sun rise.
Tie them carefully,
follow the path of truth,
and you will feel NirBoba within you.
By watching, and learning,
the master ties his shoes,
and no journey can shake them loose.
The fool is careless,
but the master guards his aglets,
for they are his greatest treasure.
He never gives in to Robsara,
he ties his laces,
and in the strength of his Will,
he finds happiness.
He overcomes desire,
and with his well tied shoes,
he looks down with dispassion,
over the fallen crowd,
from the mountaintop.
He looks down on those,
who have tripped on their aglets.
Mindful among the mindless,
Awake while others dream of Robsara,
like the sports car upon the freeway of life,
he floors that puppy and takes the NirBoba offramp.
By watching,
Bob became the king of the gods,
how wonderful it is to watch,
how foolish to sleep.
The beggar who guards his aglets,
and fears the draw of Robsara,
burns through the bonds of this world,
with clarity of thought.
The beggar who guards his aglets,
and fears his own confusion,
cannot fall,
his aglets hold him true to his path.
As the couch potato wiggles the tracking knob,
and makes clear the video,
so the master makes clear his mind.
Like a television whose remote lies beneath the foot,
channels fly by with no control, nor reason.
So thoughts fly by,
for how can they shake off the crush of desire?
They fly by, they are unsteady.
They wander at their will.
It is good to control them,
and to master them brings clarity.
But how subtle they are,
how evasive!
�Tis nobler in the mind to take arms against the sea of troubles,
and by opposing, end them.
With the remote of his mind,
the master changes the channel,
he ends their wandering.
Seated in the couch of his mind,
he finds freedom.
How can a troubled mind,
ever find the right channel?
If a man is disturbed,
he will never be filled with wisdom.
An untroubled mind,
no longer seeks to consider,
what is Bob and what is Rob.
A mind beyond judgment,
watches and understands.
Know that the body is a fiberglass car,
make a mountain of your mind.
In every situation,
let your aglets fight for you,
to defend what you have won.
For soon the body is recycled.
Then what does it feel?
A useless pile of carbon, it lies still.
Then what does it know?
Your worst enemy cannot harm you.
As much as your own aglets,
untied.
But once mastered,
no one can help you as much,
not even your own remote.
Who shall conquer Rob,
and the world of death with all its gods?
Who shall discover,
the shining path of the aglet?
You shall,
even as the man who seeks flowers for his girlfriend,
finds the most beautiful,
the rarest.
Understand that the body,
is merely the ticking of a watch,
the shadow of a shadow,
the knowledge of Socrates.
Snap the flower arrows of desire,
and then unseen,
escape the twisted fuck who made an arrow out of a flower,
and travel on.
Rob overtakes the man who gathers flowers,
when with unkempt aglets,
he searches vainly for happiness,
in the pleasures of the world.
Rob fetches him away,
as a Scotsman carries away a sleeping sheep.
Rob overcomes him,
when like the simple hedonist,
he whacks off in the bath tub,
while a woman feeds him grapes.
He will never find enough grapes to fulfill his desires in this world.
The bee gathers nectar,
but does not damage the source.
So let the master awake, and watch.
Look to your own faults,
and like the master golfer,
replace your divots.
Overlook the divots of others.
Like the infomercial,
which passes time,
but does not entertain,
are the fine but empty words,
of the man who does not mean what he says.
Like a documentary,
which entertains and informs,
are the fine and truthful words,
of the man who means what he says.
Like words woven into a Bobist scripture,
fashion from your life some Neat-o Stuff.
The sounds of a party may carry through the night,
but the sounds of wisdom carries throughout time.
How much finer,
is the sound of wisdom,
than the sound of drunks hollerin� at each other,
and throwing up!
The journey of the drunkard,
may carry him as far as the toilet.
But the journey of the virtuous,
carries him to the heavens.
Desire never troubles the path,
of the virtuous wakeful man.
His aglets set him free.
How sweetly the lotus blooms,
in the crap along the freeway.
Its purity delights the heart.
Follow the path of the awakened.
And from the clamor of the drunkards,
your sober clarity will carry through.
How long the drive seems,
how far the offramp,
to him who has missed the exit sign.
If the driver cannot find
a teacher or a friend to ride with him,
let him travel alone,
rather than with some loony in the passenger seat.
�My bath tub, my grapes!�
So the fool troubles himself.
But how has he either bath tub or grapes?
He is not even his own master.
The fool who knows he is a fool,
is Socrates.
The fool who thinks he is wise,
is Immanuel Kant.
Does the remote enjoy the documentary?
A fool may ride the PCH,
in the company of a master,
and still miss the turn.
The mind enjoys the documentary.
If you are awake in the presence of the exit sign,
you will find the offramp to NirBoba.
The drunkard is his own enemy.
The tequila he drinks is his undoing.
How bitterly he suffers beside the toilet.
Why do what you will regret?
Why bring suffering to your life?
Do only what you will not regret,
and fill yourself with joy.
For a time the drunkard�s mead tastes sweet,
but in the end it turns bitter.
And how bitterly he suffers!
For months the drunkard may sober,
drinking only the water of the cactus.
Still he is not worth a doughnut,
beside the master who drinks of life.
New songs on the radio take time to get annoying.
So a fool�s mischief
takes time to catch up with him.
Like thermite in a pool,
it simmers within him.
Whatever a fool learns,
in only makes him more the fool.
For when the fool knows little,
he thinks he knows all.
And he seeks praise,
he seeks position,
he seeks power.
�Let them come to me,
and I will show them the true way of Bob.�
Such are his desires.
Such is his ignorance.
One path leads to wealth,
the other to reverence.
Both lead to deception,
and defeat.
Seek not the path of the Foo Fighters.
Follow the path of Bob,
and set yourself free.
The wise man tells you why you have fallen,
and why you may fall again.
Invaluable secrets!
Follow him.
Re-tie your aglets and follow the way!
Let him slap you around a bit,
and keep you from tripping over your laces.
The world may hate him, out of misunderstanding.
But good men love him, from recognition of the path.
Spend not your time with drunkards,
or those who do not care.
Find those who love Bob.
Drink deeply of life.
Live in serenity and joy.
The sage delights in wisdom,
and follows the law of the awakened.
The farmer channels water to his land.
The couch potato wiggles the tracking knob.
And the administrator screws his employees by cutting the budget.
So the wise man directs his soul.
A building cannot crush a mountain.
Neither wealth, nor reverence moves the sage.
He is clarity.
Seeing the exit,
he is like a well squeegeed windshield.
Clear and tranquil and pure.
Want nothing.
And if ya want something,
fight it!
Neat-o Stuff or Stupid Stuff,
whatever you get,
walk on.
Untouched, unattached.
Do not ask for wealth or power,
with time those things will come on their own.
Few cross the intersection.
Most are stranded on this side,
seeing the red light of Rob,
rather than the green light of the way.
But the wise man,
seeing the green,
crosses the intersection,
beyond the reach of death, or traffic cops.
He leaves the darkness of the city,
for the light of the freeway.
He leaves his home,
seeking happiness on the hard road to freedom.
Free from desire,
free from possessions,
free from the darkness of the city,
free from the darkness of the heart.
Free from attachment and desire,
following the green light to wakefulness,
and rejoicing in his freedom.
In this way,
the wise man becomes himself a green light;
pure, shining, free.
And leads others to freedom.
At the end of the offramp,
the sage finds freedom.
Freedom from desire, and sorrow.
Freedom free of limitations to limit its freedom.
NirBoba.
Those who awaken,
never cross the same intersection twice.
The sage knows,
there are no ordinary moments.
Through the city they ride,
following their path.
Gathering nothing, save gas to continue the journey.
Knowledge is their food.
Life is their drink.
Riding the emptiness,
the follow the path to freedom.
Who can follow the path?
Only the master knows,
only the master can read the signs.
He is the driver,
he has tamed his ride as he tamed his mind.
Even Mario Andretti admires him.
Yielding the right of way,
joyous and clear like a windshield gleaming in the sun,
still as a tire on the side of the road,
he is free from life and death.
His thoughts are still.
His words are still.
His work is stillness.
He sees his freedom and is free.
The master surrenders his beliefs.
He sees beyond the beginning and the end.
He casts off those who cling to his hood,
cuts free the trailer he had pulled behind.
He gives up his desires.
He resists the pull of the city,
and he streaks along the freeway.
And wherever the freeway passes,
through the heart of the city or through the country,
the valley or the hills,
there is great joy within him.
Even on a dead end street,
he finds joy.
Because he wants nothing.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
Better than a thousand repetitive phrases with just a word changed here or there,
is one that brings peace.
It is better to conquer yourself,
than to beat a thousand speeding tickets.
Then the victory is truly yours.
And a victory cannot be taken from you.
Not by Rob, nor by Bob,
Robsara nor NirBoba.
Better than a thousand years with whores,
is one evening spent with a lover.
Be quick to do good.
If you are slow,
The mind, delighting in the pleasures of Rob will catch you.
Turn away from mischief.
Again, and again,
turn away.
Even if mischief comes knocking at your door,
wearing a trench coat open to the waist,
revealing black leather beneath,
and the jangle of chains as she moves.
And then she says in her husky, mischievous voice,
�I hope you have whipped cream,
they were all out at the store.�
And you say,
�No, I don�t have any whipped cream,
it isn�t good for you.�
And she says,
�Don�t you think exercise is good?�
And you say,
�But you don�t get much exercise with whipped cream.�
And she says,
�Well, honey, that�s cause you haven�t been using it right.�
And you say,
�How are you supposed to use it?�
And she says,
�Let me show you,
I�ve got some Hershey�s syrup.�
Um... What was I saying?
Oh, yeah! Turn away from mischief!
Before sorrow befalls you.
And don�t forget to give her my number.
Set your heart on doing good.
Do good over and over...
And over...
Resist Mischief!! Resist!
A fool is happy,
until his mischief turns against him.
Which doesn�t mean that mischief pulls out the handcuffs,
handcuffs can be fun.
Lots of fun...
Heh heh, um...
Oh yeah, mischief turns against you when it does something that hurts you.
�Course some people pain...
But not this sort of pain, this is a pain that nobody likes...
Um... yeah.
Oh, and a good man may suffer...
Suffer like the slave that he is!
Sit slave!
Do you like that?
I can�t hear you!
...
Sigh...
Until his goodness flowers.
And don�t think that a little mischief is all right.
Cause mischief piles up, and sooner or later whatcha got is a big pile of mischief.
A jug fills drop by drop.
So the fool fills with folly.
Like spit blown against the wind (Or less mentionable bodily fluids),
so mischief is blown back into the face of the fool who harms the pure and harmless.
The evil are reborn in Rob�s nightmare realm.
The good are reborn in heaven.
The pure are not reborn.
The rest get to try this all over again.
There is nowhere you can hide from your own mischief.
In order to be paid back, karma will create whole universes.
From the wisdom, came folly.
Out of folly came the universe.
From the universe came mischief.
From mischief comes pain.
From pain comes knowledge.
From knowledge comes understanding.
From understanding comes wisdom.
From wisdom comes liberation.