Even the mega-teachers, having reached great heights of wisdom, fall into habits that the rest of us do. Words are not the thing. The Thing is the Thing. And no one messes with The Thing. Sorry, my funny bone is lurking right behind this intention to be serious.
With apologies to no one, because unless you are no one, you have not arrived— I proclaim all of us innocent for the next 5 seconds, at which time we are all free to go out and sin again. To get one’s own thing on. But sadly, our thing is usually not The Thing.
The Thing can’t be coerced into doing what we want it to do. I have tried to mold it like Silly Putty, pressing it into a photo of myself. All I got was a failed experiment.
I have tried to put The Thing at the top of the stairs and set it into motion. It refused to act in a Slinky-like manner.
I have tried to show The Thing off to lots of people but it always develops a case of shyness. Sometimes I suspect, yea, even know, that The Thing is not amenable to my plans.
The Thing is what it is.
One fine day I will figure out what I can do with the Thing and then I will probably become rich and famous and I will be able to sell you The Brooklyn Bridge.
Until that happens, and it probably won’t, remember that I am insinuating things, making inferences to the ridiculous things we try to do with The Thing. The Thing of Things.
Some call it The Way, and The Thing is just an alternate and temporary word for it.
Misuse it at your own peril.
The Thing will always forgive you. Not only that, it will feed and clothe you and rebirth you as many times as necessary.
All hail The Thing.