Nagarjuna is the one true man of the left.
Nagarjuna is the one true man of the left out.
Nagarjuna is the one true man of the left out of account.
Yet Nagarjuna is not truly a man of the left.
Nagarjuna is not truly (as above).
Nagarjuna is not (as above).
The bhikkhus recite and write this way, ultimately, not to remember but to forget. They want to forget the 84,000 conventions of birth & death.
Nagarjuna doesn’t end there.
Nagarjuna has no beginning.
(As above.)
Every morning Nagarjuna eats a breakfast of rice gruel with an egg fried in ghee. Conventionally, he follows good yogic practice, modified by the philosopher’s intensified need for protein. Ultimately, a sparrow flies beneath his canopy and across the sky, unsupported, as if it knows where it is going.
Conventionally, Nagarjuna is a great magician who entertains at court and gives sound advice to those who have seen, heard & done it all and now want to see, hear & do it all with a little more flare.
Conventionally, Nagarjuna meets all the expectations of his day and is as well attended by ritual, bureaucracy & authority as any pope.
Ultimately, Nagarjuna sings off-key, misapplies the day’s ragas, melodic modes and rhythmic patterns and subtly spoils all the fine rasas of Maheshvara, the Lord of Dance. Nagarjuna always evades the perfectly executed and never colours within the lines.
[There’s that awkward moment when something emerges, when it’s still wet, clumsy and baldly expressed, like the first delta blues, or the first rough wheel. This would be Nagarjuna’s moment, were he to have one.]
[Yet that’s all wrong, badly put & misleading.]
[Yet nothing is more fatal than a finished product and fine craftsmanship. Everything digestible leads to indigestion.]
Conventionally, Nagarjuna produces his liberating vaccines & serums from the indigestible venom of cobras, rightly held.
Ultimately (as below).
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