It has been written that I loathe Tuesdays. This is true. On this Tuesday I have nothing worth recounting, but will instead relate a parable about Hung Mung, the wisest of of all wiseacres:
“Great Knowledge was traveling east, carried along upon the wings of a whirlwind. Suddenly he met Hung Mung, who was jumping around, slapping his thighs and hopping like a bird. Great Knowledge saw this and stopped dead, standing still in respect, and said, ‘Elderly man, who are you? What are you doing?’
Hung Mung continued to slap his thighs and hop like a bird, then replied, ‘Enjoying myself!
Great Knowledge said, ‘I would like to ask a question.’
Hung Mung looked at Great Knowledge and said, ‘That’s a shame!’
Great Knowledge said, ‘The very breath of Heaven is no longer in harmony. Earth’s very breath is ensnared, the six breaths do not mix, the four seasons do not follow each other. Now I want to combine the six breaths in order to bring life to all things. How do I do this?’
Hung Mung slapped his thighs, hopped around and said, ‘I don’t know, I don’t know!’
Great Knowledge could go no further with his questioning. But three years later, traveling east, he passed the wilderness of Sung and came upon Hung Mung again. Great Knowledge, very pleased, rushed towards him, stood before him and said, ‘Heaven, have you forgotten me? Heaven, have you forgotten me?’ Bowing his head twice, he asked for teaching from Hung Mung.
Hung Mung said, ‘Wandering everywhere, without a clue why. Wildly impulsive, without a clue where. I wander around in this odd fashion, I see that nothing comes without reason. What can I know?’
Great Knowledge replied, ‘I also seem carried on by an aimless influence, and yet the people follow me wherever I go. I cannot help their doing so. But now as they thus imitate me, I wish to hear a word from you.’
Hung Mung said, ‘Ah! your mind needs to be nourished. Do you only take the position of doing nothing, and things will of themselves become transformed. Neglect your body; cast out from you your power of hearing and sight; forget what you have in common with things; cultivate a grand similarity with the chaos of the plastic ether; unloose your mind; set your spirit free; be still as if you had no soul. Of all the multitude of things every one returns to its root. Every one returns to its root, and does not know that it is doing so. They all are as in the state of chaos, and during all their existence they do not leave it. They do not ask its name; they do not seek to spy out their nature; and thus it is that things come to life of themselves.'”
Have a great fucking Tuesday.