Being on the nature of an Introduction and a warning of things to come
Once upon a time there was a happy and prosperous kingdom whose peaceful population lived sheltered lives in utmost harmony with nature and suchlike and had rancid yak butter and were generally quite nice people, really.
While money was sparse in the kingdom, few cared, really, for there wasn't a lot to spend money on, to be completely honest, except for sheep and the occasional reverse engineering of mountains.
The kingdom was ruled by a king, and not just any little old king. No, the kingdom was ruled by a Priest-King, and like many Priest-Kings before him he had a quaint multi-syllable name intended to impress his people. And his people, who were as impressible as anyone, really, were impressed by his multi-syllable name. And he was named Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen.
Well, a Priest-King sort of implies some sort of religion, and not surprisingly so. If history has shown one thing, it is that poor cold mountains yield a high yearly crop of monks, who begin their new lives as lazy apprentices named grasshopper, ladybug, godzilla, or some other common insect name, who through hard study and avoidance of real work become respected middleaged monks, and eventually wise old monks knowning the secrets of the universe, or at least the brewing of good yak tea, and with the rights to say non-sensical things and hit younger monks and innocent passers-by with big sticks.
A peaceful religion for a peaceful country, you might say. But since the monks supplied the only cash crop, prayer wheels, and didn't bother people overmuch, they were tolerably well respected.
And on one day, in one year, the Priest-King, Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen, listened to his senior monks in his little mountaintop summer palace, and he was not amused.
"He comes", said the first senior monk.
"He comes", agreed the second senior monk.
"Indeed, he comes!", intoned the third senior monk.
"He cometh!!", rasped the fourth senior monk.
"I tell you, the omens are clear: HE COMES!", said the fifth senior monk, not to be outdone.
"Ok, message: he comes. Got it, but how? What say the omens", asked the Priest-King Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen
"He comes...
...In Power"
"He Arises...
...In Might"
"He Raises...
...The Whirlwind"
"He Bringeth...
...The Cataclysm"
"He calls...
...The Gathering!"
"Somewhat discouraging, that. Doesn't seem to have quite the proper pacifist state of mind. Perhaps he can be swayed by the liberal application of yak tea?", asked the Priest-King Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen
"He is not swayed...
...By Mortal Men"
"He Takes Peace...
...By Force, not Tea"
"He Farts...
...In your General Direction, and the mountains tremble"
"He Laughs...
...And Armies Perish"
"He Frowns...
...And Thrones are Humbled"
...As the silence deepens, quiet chanting is heard from the newest acolytes, who are suffering from Chanting 101. It sounds somewhat like 'Oooooooooooooooo'. They'll get around to 'm' some day in the not so distant future, when the teacher of novices deem them fit.
"There's really nothing to be done, is there? Thousands of years of quiet reincarnation on a mountaintop all to be spoiled by the imminent arrival of the Transcendant One as he, once again, cuts a trail of death and destruction through the very fabric of the world. Why did it have to be us? We are poor, humble, utterly without the means to prosecute warfare, sandwiched between the bread of India and the yak of China, and Buddhists to boot! It is almost enough to make one upset!!!", asked the Priest-King Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen
"The question reveals the answer", said the first senior monk.
"The truth is in the question", agreed the second senior monk.
"Indeed, the goat is at the gate", intoned the third senior monk.
"He neither drinks, nor mountains hone with garlic", rasped the fourth senior monk.
"Gazing beyond the infinite reveals the clue and it is blue", said the fifth senior monk, not to be outdone.
"What a showoff", said the second senior monk of the fifth, "that was never an authentic bit of ancient wisdom. You just made it up!"
"Did not", defended the fifth senior monk.
"Did too", said the first senior monk, who wished he had made it up first.
"Up yours respectfully!", exclaimed the fifth senior monk.
"Retaliate Mightily with Words of Wisdom", said the third senior monk.
"When the hardcase goes abroad, the quiet valley sings", interjected the fourth senior monk, getting into the spirit of things.
...
...
...
"Does it, really? I mean chanting valleys, sure, we see those all the time. Even sweating valleys and boistrous valleys. But I never saw a quiet valley sing", said the fifth senior monk, deftly deflecting the course of the conversation.
"What about the moaning valley of lower Phat?", asked the fourth monk.
"Well moaning is hardly singing, is it?", said the first senior monk.
"Will you guys please cut me some slack here? We've got a major incident heading our way, and you discuss singing valleys, when everybody knows there hasn't been a true singing valley since the deep throat incident 529 years ago!", asked the Priest-King Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen
"530 years ago", said the second monk.
"528 years to be precise", counterattacked the first monk.
WHACK!
WHACK!
Ouch, master
Ouch, master
Whhhhhhhhhooooooooooooooooooooooooooo...
....sssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, came the sound of something large speeding through the athmosphere at an incredible speed.
Boooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...
....iiiiinnnnnnnnnnnggggggg, intoned the Earth as a large indentified flying object made a photogenic first class landing on the palace roof.
Ooooommmmmmmmmmmmmm, went the acolytes. The teacher of novices would discipline them severely for this outrageous display of independent thought.
YAK DUNG!, went the senior monks, agreeing for once.
The Transcendant One had arrived.......
The Rules
Tibet
GC v1.05
In case of utilising ancient monkish secrets (cheating) you will be notified
The Goals
The Transcendant One Has Seen the Infinite and is Beyond Goals.
The Notes
Wise man say: Tibet is not coloured purple. Tibet is white. Different strategies apply.
Wise man say: Posting will be infrequent, but patience is a virtue.
Wise man say: ALL RIGHT. First installment within a day or two.
Once upon a time there was a happy and prosperous kingdom whose peaceful population lived sheltered lives in utmost harmony with nature and suchlike and had rancid yak butter and were generally quite nice people, really.
While money was sparse in the kingdom, few cared, really, for there wasn't a lot to spend money on, to be completely honest, except for sheep and the occasional reverse engineering of mountains.
The kingdom was ruled by a king, and not just any little old king. No, the kingdom was ruled by a Priest-King, and like many Priest-Kings before him he had a quaint multi-syllable name intended to impress his people. And his people, who were as impressible as anyone, really, were impressed by his multi-syllable name. And he was named Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen.
Well, a Priest-King sort of implies some sort of religion, and not surprisingly so. If history has shown one thing, it is that poor cold mountains yield a high yearly crop of monks, who begin their new lives as lazy apprentices named grasshopper, ladybug, godzilla, or some other common insect name, who through hard study and avoidance of real work become respected middleaged monks, and eventually wise old monks knowning the secrets of the universe, or at least the brewing of good yak tea, and with the rights to say non-sensical things and hit younger monks and innocent passers-by with big sticks.
A peaceful religion for a peaceful country, you might say. But since the monks supplied the only cash crop, prayer wheels, and didn't bother people overmuch, they were tolerably well respected.
And on one day, in one year, the Priest-King, Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen, listened to his senior monks in his little mountaintop summer palace, and he was not amused.
"He comes", said the first senior monk.
"He comes", agreed the second senior monk.
"Indeed, he comes!", intoned the third senior monk.
"He cometh!!", rasped the fourth senior monk.
"I tell you, the omens are clear: HE COMES!", said the fifth senior monk, not to be outdone.
"Ok, message: he comes. Got it, but how? What say the omens", asked the Priest-King Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen
"He comes...
...In Power"
"He Arises...
...In Might"
"He Raises...
...The Whirlwind"
"He Bringeth...
...The Cataclysm"
"He calls...
...The Gathering!"
"Somewhat discouraging, that. Doesn't seem to have quite the proper pacifist state of mind. Perhaps he can be swayed by the liberal application of yak tea?", asked the Priest-King Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen
"He is not swayed...
...By Mortal Men"
"He Takes Peace...
...By Force, not Tea"
"He Farts...
...In your General Direction, and the mountains tremble"
"He Laughs...
...And Armies Perish"
"He Frowns...
...And Thrones are Humbled"
...As the silence deepens, quiet chanting is heard from the newest acolytes, who are suffering from Chanting 101. It sounds somewhat like 'Oooooooooooooooo'. They'll get around to 'm' some day in the not so distant future, when the teacher of novices deem them fit.
"There's really nothing to be done, is there? Thousands of years of quiet reincarnation on a mountaintop all to be spoiled by the imminent arrival of the Transcendant One as he, once again, cuts a trail of death and destruction through the very fabric of the world. Why did it have to be us? We are poor, humble, utterly without the means to prosecute warfare, sandwiched between the bread of India and the yak of China, and Buddhists to boot! It is almost enough to make one upset!!!", asked the Priest-King Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen
"The question reveals the answer", said the first senior monk.
"The truth is in the question", agreed the second senior monk.
"Indeed, the goat is at the gate", intoned the third senior monk.
"He neither drinks, nor mountains hone with garlic", rasped the fourth senior monk.
"Gazing beyond the infinite reveals the clue and it is blue", said the fifth senior monk, not to be outdone.
"What a showoff", said the second senior monk of the fifth, "that was never an authentic bit of ancient wisdom. You just made it up!"
"Did not", defended the fifth senior monk.
"Did too", said the first senior monk, who wished he had made it up first.
"Up yours respectfully!", exclaimed the fifth senior monk.
"Retaliate Mightily with Words of Wisdom", said the third senior monk.
"When the hardcase goes abroad, the quiet valley sings", interjected the fourth senior monk, getting into the spirit of things.
...
...
...
"Does it, really? I mean chanting valleys, sure, we see those all the time. Even sweating valleys and boistrous valleys. But I never saw a quiet valley sing", said the fifth senior monk, deftly deflecting the course of the conversation.
"What about the moaning valley of lower Phat?", asked the fourth monk.
"Well moaning is hardly singing, is it?", said the first senior monk.
"Will you guys please cut me some slack here? We've got a major incident heading our way, and you discuss singing valleys, when everybody knows there hasn't been a true singing valley since the deep throat incident 529 years ago!", asked the Priest-King Sanam Trakpa Gyan-tsen
"530 years ago", said the second monk.
"528 years to be precise", counterattacked the first monk.
WHACK!
WHACK!
Ouch, master
Ouch, master
Whhhhhhhhhooooooooooooooooooooooooooo...
....sssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, came the sound of something large speeding through the athmosphere at an incredible speed.
Boooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...
....iiiiinnnnnnnnnnnggggggg, intoned the Earth as a large indentified flying object made a photogenic first class landing on the palace roof.
Ooooommmmmmmmmmmmmm, went the acolytes. The teacher of novices would discipline them severely for this outrageous display of independent thought.
YAK DUNG!, went the senior monks, agreeing for once.
The Transcendant One had arrived.......
The Rules
Tibet
GC v1.05
In case of utilising ancient monkish secrets (cheating) you will be notified
The Goals
The Transcendant One Has Seen the Infinite and is Beyond Goals.
The Notes
Wise man say: Tibet is not coloured purple. Tibet is white. Different strategies apply.
Wise man say: Posting will be infrequent, but patience is a virtue.
Wise man say: ALL RIGHT. First installment within a day or two.