Dialogue: Buddha & Moses

Dialogue between mr. moses and mr. buddha (and friends) (with a cameo by martin buber!).
buddha facing moses: “sit”
moses facing buddha: “run”
pause…
buddha: “unless you sit the running will lead you nowhere”
moses: “we run so we could sit”
pause for smiling…
moses: “unless you run your siting is for naught”
buddha: “we sit so we could run”
moses: freeing slaves always comes first.
buddha seemed confused.
pause for confusion…
moses and buddha tweaking each other’s ears and declaring in unison:
“what comes first?: sitting or running, running or sitting? false dichotomy! the practice of freedom is one and the same”
silent pause:
noisy pause:
buddha: “the practice is to make our sitting our running”
moses: “the practice is to make our running our sitting. there are people suffering out there, you know”
moses and buddha embrace each other, they raise a cup of malbec and declare in unison: “running and sitting are one and the same.”
agreeable pause…
moses: “when in egypt, know that you need to run”
buddha: “when under the fig-boddhi tree, know that you need to sit”
pause for smelling the desert mogras…
moses’ or buddha’s little girl passing by:
“we are never in or out of egypt. we are never under or away from the fig-boddhi tree”
pause for a grapefruit with cognac… (always drinking, moses and buddha)
buddha: “dogen?”
dogen facing moses: “if you can’t find freedom in egypt, where else will you find it?”
moses: “in the desert”
dogen: “egypt is your desert”
moses: “only a pharaoh would say that”
pause to pause…
vox populi: “moses! in the desert you’ll become the pharaoh”
moses: “the desert is a very narrow bridge. the most precious principle is never to fear at all”
unexpected pause as the bratz-lover rebbe passes by.
he bumps into a mindful buber.
buber bumps into jorge miranda.
jorge miranda bumps into george seawave,
george seawave bumps into howlin’ wolf.
howlin’ wolf: let’s pause for shit.
jorge miranda facing howlin’ wolf : “got” is yiddish for “god”. or an acronym for “get out of the temple”!
howlin’ wolf facing jorge miranda: “i don’t play anything but the blues, but now i could never make no money on nothin’ but the blues. that’s why i wasn’t interested in nothin’ else”
moses seems confused.
pause for confusion…
moses: “isaiah?”
isaiah facing dogen: “blessed are the peacemakers”
isaiah: “amos?”
amos facing buddha: “blessed are the justice makers”
amos: “salomon?”
salomon facing jesus: “blessed are the love makers”
george seawave: “jesus?”
jesus: “blessed is who blesses others”
jesus: “dogen?”
dogen: “blessed is this: here’s a myrtle'”
dogen: “hadas?”
hadas: “cool”. baby is here and now.
hadas: buddha?
buddha facing hadas, jesus, george seawave and moses: “no bless. no curse. bless is curse and curse is bless”
moses: not true: freedom is freedom, bondage is bondage.
buddha: “blessed spinoza?”
spinoza: “deus sive nature. ergo it is not one nor it is two.”
spinoza facing moses: “ergo, sub species aeternitatis, nirvanus est samsarus, samsarus est nirvanus”
moses: not true: freedom is freedom, bondage is bondage.
moses: “maimonides?”
maimonides: “what?!”
pause to listen to buber:
buber: “will and grace” that is all.
vox deus: “i heard you all and no one called my name. there is a time for everything. yours was the time for nonsense. blessed be the non-sense makers.”
pause to makes no sense:
moses, buddha, dogen, isaiah, amos, spinoza, hadas, maimonides, the bratz-lover, the little girl, howlin’ wolf, george seawave and buber (not jorge miranda though) tweaking each others’ noses and declaring in unison “god is god and so is its opposite. god is one, god is zero. substance is one, substance is empty. we sit, we run, we all fall down, hallelujah..!”
moses saw all this. he smiled. he turned back to the desert to die. and his mind was at peace.
part II
namaskar mister buddha.
beautiful autumn moon tonight.
sorry to disturb your hard-earned peace.
here’s a fig for you!
i wanted to ask you a question?
it takes many forms
but it is one and the sane question.
mister buddha.
when will you open your eyes?
do you see me?
can you see me if your eyes are closed?
maybe you don’t need the eyes to see?
or are your eyes closed that all beings might see?
is that what you’re saying?
and also mr. buddha:
are you within every being and you look at me through every face?
is that what it is?
are you mister buddha the wind outside my window?
can i hear you teach in every fragrant spring breeze?
and spring rain?
or rough storm?
can the breezes hear me?
does the rough storm?
(i know the rain does.)
i do not wish to disturb your hard earned peace
but can you mister buddha give me a hug
with your hands so neatly folded on your lap?
i think it’s important to give a hug.
have you mister buddha ever worn jeans and a shirt?
and long hair?
or is it that orange color is your fashion thing?
(i like your sandals.)
tell me sir, just curious:
have you ever loved a woman?
i’m told you were married once but you left her.
and your son too!
you abandoned your son.
why?
that’s really really important mr buddha, you know?
my good tathagata:
do you like pizza? (not sure if you’re vegan, but what about chimichurri?)
can you really be enlightened without a bottle of malbec? (just kidding)
(not really)
have you ever changed a diaper?
that’s really really important mr buddha, you know?
and are you happy when your likeness is being carved?
especially in all that awful shiny and expensive gold?
i mean, wouldn’t you be happier in peasant’s wood
and give all that gold away to feed the poor?
it makes more sense, doesn’t it?
is it you there when i step on a rainy fourteenth street paddle?
my sandals wet.
me maybe slightly upset?
is it ok to be slightly upset when i step in a fourteenth street paddle?
may these confession be my saving grace!
(just trying to be funny)
do you ever, mr. buddha, get up from under that amazing tree?
(i’m told you do sometimes because you care for others too)
(but i don’t blame you. the tree is very cool)
do you play football with your buddies?
what kind of music do you listen to?
are you a good dancer? (i’m a terrible one 🙂
do you mr buddha write poems with your beloved?
or to her?
do you guys make love under the tree?
or the stars?
(are you really a monk, mr buddha)
why??
but sir, if you don’t make love to your beloved:
what in nirvana are you talking about?
(just joking)
but no, seriously.
some worship you mr. buddha.
is that what you wanted?
are you ok with that?
will you be offended if i won’t bow to your golden statues?
my ancestor folks told me never to bow to a statue.
will you comfort me when i’m sick?
will you feed me when i’m hungry?
will you shelter me when i’m homeless?
will you, mr. buddha, cloth me when i’m poor-naked
and sit next to me when i’m lonely?
not that it really matters, really,
but who’s your trainer with all those big muscles?
anyway:
will you have a beer with me in the pub? (that’s not a joke)
and if you won’t:
then what in nirvana are you talking about? (that’s not a joke)
is it the case mister buddha that everyone is a buddha?
or that everything is?
like that paddle i just stepped in?
am i not sitting now next to you at the bar?
is buddha everything and everyone
and always and everywhere?
are you all beings?
or are all beings in you? (you know.. the theology thing…)
i remember being told things like that about the god of my own ancestors.
will you mister buddha say thou back to me?
how so?
how so? mr buddha.
how do you love mister buddha?
i said i just had a question,
ha! but you see, i don’t know much about you mister buddha,
but sure as love i’d love to.
i found the buddha mr buddha
but can’t remember where.
is it ok with you?
rhetorical question, i know.
i know the answer.
– hune margulies

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