Monkey likes to meditate with Ibbs. He’ll often lead Ibbs in a guided mediation, asking him to concentrate on his feet and then feel the energy rise to his knees. But Ibbs doesn’t have knees. So he just looks to his feet until Monkey says otherwise.
Sometimes Monkey will get over zealous and require an intense session that could last hours if not days. Ibbs is always willing to comply. Because in reality (whatever that means), Ibbs is always in meditation.
Monkey doesn’t know this, but after each session he’s amazed at the tenacity of Ibbs and finds his own reward by regarding himself as the most awesome meditative teacher, Great Sage of all. Monkey used to say the title was equal to heaven, but Ibbs doesn’t know what Heaven is, so now Monkey just proclaims that he’s Great. And Ibbs agrees.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
The Indifferent Ibbs
Ibbs comes from a special place. The story changes from time to time, but when he speaks about the land in which he came from he talks in colors. Wonderful yellow Ziggie blossoms the size of bowling balls adorn the banks of purple streams that wind meticulously in and out of the Great Green Garnich River. I think Ibbs made his home on that river by the way he talks about it. His eyes light up every time his imagination comes around the Calendie corner, and that’s when I know he’s home.
The vibrancy of his muttering gives way to an unexplainable aura of feeling. Ibbs has a hard time distinguishing individual items as such, and instead sees the colors of his world as either beginning or ending, all in a continuum with the next object. In fact, from talking with him, he doesn’t even really see things as objects. I tried to link his way of viewing the world as seeing it through the eyes of pure energy... But Ibbs doesn’t think too in depth on any one particular subject. And so we leave it at that.
I’m not sure why he chose to live with me now, especially since Ibbs land sounds so amazing; but we both like it just the same. I sometimes wonder what color he sees me as.
The vibrancy of his muttering gives way to an unexplainable aura of feeling. Ibbs has a hard time distinguishing individual items as such, and instead sees the colors of his world as either beginning or ending, all in a continuum with the next object. In fact, from talking with him, he doesn’t even really see things as objects. I tried to link his way of viewing the world as seeing it through the eyes of pure energy... But Ibbs doesn’t think too in depth on any one particular subject. And so we leave it at that.
I’m not sure why he chose to live with me now, especially since Ibbs land sounds so amazing; but we both like it just the same. I sometimes wonder what color he sees me as.
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