It was now three months ago that the disease came to my feet, and I threw it down with all my might, and ruthlessly punished every attempt to breathe. And I lost 2 thirds of my body.

3 years and a little more than 4 months, my dear teacher and friend Ekiho Miyazaki once spent in the hospital struggling with death; And he lost half his lungs.

What is it, goodhearts? What happens to us? I must think of the old Zen story with the ox and of this peculiar way of thinking: The ox has never really been lost; Why search for him? But since the man has turned away from his true being, the ox has become alien to him; He has lost sight of him in the dust. Do you have fun with us by luring our already darkened eyes even further into the mirror, instead of looking into the world? Do we recognize the non-Buddha-being of the ox in ourselves, or the Buddha-being of the ox in this tolerably real world?

I know, my beloved Enlightened sisters and brothers, their goodhearts, that I offer you not a small piece of cake, but a ten-meter-high gingerbread man, and I beg your forgiveness, my beloved loved ones, yet: Though I tried it, and again and again Tried, as the fragments of my attempts at continuation of my records prove, but I have not made it smaller for this time!

To report all the events, or even to say a great deal, which I consider to be the most important, perhaps, all this will be impossible. The flood of events made a powerful path, so that no one could resist, no one could really defend himself; And the swirls and the tornadoes of the light that had been brought to light destroyed every idea of ​​order, of "built-up" (a terminus which I loved in myself, as well as outside), so that nothing remained; Nothing but the little that now makes me laugh; And somehow I can not resist the feeling of hearing the laugh of an ox.

Regardless of whether the hardware, the software, data backups, the year-to-day agreements within our community, or even the image of a "normal household", nothing remained.

This time the existential was not questioned, but swept away. Where exactly I am in my identity track, my personal history of oxen, it would be more presumptuous than the sum of my hitherto funny achievements, even in the approach. So I am going to present to you this day, your Highness, the chaos which I am the only one with great certainty "because I am", so strictly speaking "I am".

It is concentrated in those records which I follow this introduction, which, I hope, will delight you even more than myself, La Madre, Suzuki, Fathers Father, Old Masters, the Sweetest of the Sweet My beloved daughter Sue, the unnamed, my madly beloved Amazone Nicki, who is not only pissing death into the asshole, my petite sexy Steffi, who has the sharpest claws in the world, not to forget those important oxen, and never forget the unfortunately In the toltecian sense, the greatest trousers of the well-known and unknown universe, my best wife of all, and my God-be-it-thanked-and to my father Lucifer alike, every second in me and around me no longer unbelievable but REAL JJ !

Another. This. When these notes find their continuation, and whether I find brain rings faster or slower the right form, that is in the stars, I fear, good hearts, my beloved Enlightened sisters and brothers I can read as little as I can Obviously the difference between my face and the face of an ox when shaving is not always distinguishable.

Take care, all your loves, to whom we all love and send all light and blessings! - Breath. Breath. ! 2 cozy

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Hi and welcome to g-cook! Our triumphant return to the unexpected attack of the gigantic gingerbread man and his cowardly customers, the disgusting owl worshipers - cannibals!