Monday, 15 August 2011

The Butcher's Gita

In the Mahabharata, two Butchers teach Dharma and their teaching is called a Gita- a song.

   They’re not actual butchers- unlike Ding, who enlightened Confucius by showing that one never needs to sharpen one’s cleaver if one cuts along the grain, the marbling, the fatty Tao, of the flesh- instead, they’re vertically integrated Meat monopolists owning both the supply and retail side of the business. Consequently, they are wealthy and powerful beyond the common ken. Both are engaged in a disreputable trade- in the Mahabharata, the vyadha, the butcher, is a byword for fraud and sharp practice- but, by reason of their wealth, wisdom and winsome personality, neither are thus much reproached to their face. Indeed, we may say, the righteous Butcher of the Vyadha Gita redeems all of his profession who, we now see, are mere agents working his will.

     Lord Krishna redeems, not the profession of the professional butchers of men- variously called Kshatriyas, Robber-Barons or Kings- after all, at Kurukshetra, he appears as but Suta, charioteer or bard- but by affirming All his meat-puppets merely- in their own proper person they neither slay nor are slain- absolves of blood guilt even these, not Eagles amongst men but- it transpires- human, albeit by Huma's wings over-shadowed, but murder of crows or other collective noun for noisome birds fed on carrion.

    Ding, the butcher, acting without acting or not acting while acting- at peace with his own Nature and partaking of the always beneficent Tao- shows how svadharma is wu wei. This is because he actually cuts meat. Not coz of karma, nor coz he’s actually F.B.I undercover, but coz it’s what he does and does wu wei well. He cuts meat. End of. He’s not all like I’m only in the meat business coz like what actually went down, right? was I was like a shoo in for Juilliard, I mean I was definitely gonna apply but then, like, my Uncle was the Sausage King of South Bronx?- I mean he would have been if like Dad hadn’t gone and backed into the meat grinder- so everybody got a little behind with their orders as Confucius say!- and I mean there’s this buddy of mine from parochial who went to Wharton and he was like all in my face with 'get your frickin meat on, dude! What with Obamacare and everybody’s 401(k)’s in the toilet who fucking don’t wanna heart-attack? Gimme beef baby!'

Lord Krishna says amongst Vedas he’s the Sama.
Amongst Upanishads, the Chandogya.
   There’s only one non social fucking parasite in that last named- Raikva, the carter, the one who knows, or- by wu wei IS- the Way, that otherwise potholed road, the Tao.

    Scholiasts think Raikva calls the King, come humbly to learn from him, a ‘Shudra’ not because the King is actually working class- i.e. neither Priest, Peer, nor Plutocrat- but because the word is etymologically related to ‘Vishada’- sorrow, depression- and, interestingly, both the Vyadha and the Bhagvad Gita arise in the Mahabharata as cures for Vishada- that of King Yuddhistra in the former instance, that of Prince Arjuna in the latter.
But, fucking Aristos are all fucked in the head.
Priests, like those featured in the Chandogya, just hungry pan-handlers looking to score some vittels.
Why fucking bother with them?
Or- what?- you don’t like it here and wanna go back to World of Warcraft medieval times?
Fucking pay attention. I’m making an important point here.
You want to hear the Gita sing?
Learn first from slitty eyed Ding!

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