Believe me, Jeanette, there a huge amount of hypocrisy amongst members of the sangha about sex, and some highly revered rinpoches (Buddhist scholars, teachers and spiritual guides) have been unmasked as sexual predators and exploiteurs of young women and boys).
Very few Buddhist communities can be claimed to be free of such, but secrecy and thought/behavioural control by Buddhist hierarchies in closed communities obscure the truth. I have had a good amount of involvement with such communities over many years, and have dealt with many people who “bumped into Buddhism and got bruised” in my various charitable roles within that religion.
The precepts of Buddhism are not prescriptive like theistic religions. For example the precepts on sexual behaviour begin with the words “I undertake to follow the rules of training concerning the practice of unwholesome sexual conduct…” which is very open to personal interpretation, and - in accordance with Buddhist ethics - stresses aware self-governance and not obedience to rules.
Abso-perfectly construed, little Brother. (Ref my pressure wash, not the monks)
My plan is to make the whole, long nozzle, thingy, into a sawn off version of itself, with extra hosepipe.
Keeping the power/trigger action, of course.
I’ve got a mass of bio/apple-parfuméd toiletries to go with it.
Just think of the bubble bath effect of 3 bars of pression.
Hahaha!
To be clean again!!
Such a shame about the pump. It was always doomed. Nobody would listen to a grizzly phogey, My word against the power of the Semnon River authority. A tree trunk in the last torrent tore away its auto cut out.
As any experienced and sordid old flasher might explain, Tracey, it’s not practicable to use binoculars when perving because… without divulging too many tricks of the trade…visualise long grubby mackintosh, unbuttoned but held closed by hands in side pockets, ready for sudden exposée of brooch-and-ear-rings… binoculars round neck?.. doesn’t really compute…
PS Perhaps not a good idea to encourage one any further down this primrose path, eh?
Peter and anyone interested!! The bot is requesting a crowd scene…. …that’s your proof of NON perviness, Peter.
The truly gruesome perv, would have to change the subject,.
Couldn’t cope with bubble bath effects at all…would mutter something about Viagra… and shuffle away…
But I’m not making any attempt to promote this or that “religious or spiritual society”…I just think that the perspective of human relationships, expressed in that idea, is a brilliantly (…potentially…) working…one.
All the blokes and women I have known, who were capable of loving friendships, thought of their fellows, it seemed to me, in that way,
as expressed in the neo religious/Buddhist book.
I don’t know much about Buddhist communities.
I think “brother/sister” runs counter to the revolting romanticism that has been the suffocating mould, for millions of women, and blokes too, since around the end of the C18th?.
Another disgusting outcome of heavy gender/role playing and prejudice.
Men and women raised from infancy to think of themselves INCOMPLETE…without their “other half” …the dream partner.!
Wot rot!!
I’ve a lot of sympathy with that feeling, Stella. I’m a very reluctant tourist, and I really dislike hotel stays anywhere, it’s an alien experience.
If I’m on holiday in a foreign town or city I gravitate to anonymous suburbs or industrial quarters where the only thing that is happening is people’s everyday lives, but under ‘different skies’. I can imagine, or try to, what it might be like for that place to be home.
I’m only ever happy under our own roof, and sleeping in our own bed.
I think holidays abroad are a waste of money. Misery-guts!
what has made my day, today - picking and gorging on the first figs of this summer … These are purple figs, much nicer (IMO) than the earlier green ones (and the green figs are not on “my” tree anyway).
Nothing much in the way of fruit, showed before we went away and now - wow - fat figs are all over the place. I shall have to start my early-morning scavenging before the wasps wake up.
My cup ran over this afternoon when I enquired at the Mairie when the annual jamboree of Distribution Communale Des Sacs Poubelles would take place. In less than three weeks time!
Can’t wait! It’s such a throng on the steps to the Salle de Distribution, not unlike first day of the January Sales at Harrods. Will the sacs run out before it’s my turn at the counter? Have I still got my épreuve de domicile in my pocket?
Fluttering heart sings in anticipation, there’s nothing quite like it in dull old England, is there? :hugs
…do you say all that, but in French, to the Equipe de la Mairie, Peter?
I don’t suppose they’ll understand so much about January sales in Harrods…but the excitement! When the sacs are handed out! Can imagine…
Only the first bit was in French, using my most enthusiastic Hurray-Henry tone, suitably transposed to suit the Gallic conext, both of which former I feel the ladies appreciate, or perhaps deduce their satisfaction from the kindly smiles I get when they see me on their threshold.
They used to look at me rather dubiously, even nervously, when I first visited the Mairie, but I put that down to the fact that some anglais are a bit uncomfortable in the Hotel de Ville.
Appparantly not a few English visitors think the place is in fact a hotel, and want to book a room for the night, so wires have been known to get crossed in reception.
@anon78757855 "…but the excitement! When the sacs are handed out! Can imagine…”
You have a deeply aesthetic and humanistic sensibility, Jeanette. We share a wavelength or three!
Yes, the atmosphere at the distribution is electric with conviviality and anticipation, hundreds if not thousands of bisous are exchanged as the patient citizenry join the queue that snakes round the precincts of the Hotel de Ville, up the imposing steps, down the no-less handsome stairwell leading to the distribution hall, where a group of fonctionnaires are busying around with boxes of rouleaux of various sizes and shapes, easing round the waiting throng who move carefully aside with murmurs of polite and cheery assent to allow passage of the generous harvest of sacs.
I would go on, with Hogarthian versimilitude, but time and the battery strength forbid. Alas!
I’ve just had a really fascinating telephone conversation with Daniel. It was not until we had been chatting for nearly 5 minutes that I realised it was not Daniel “the woodman” calling about my delivery… but quite a different Daniel who was inviting me and OH to an Expo in Perigueux next week…
Trouble is, we all chit and chat exchanging pleasantries, before we get down to the nitty gritty. Once I had finally made the correct identification many (but not all) of his comments made sense…
Tricky situation, @Lily. Reckon he may be a dealer. With a heavy habit to fund.
He may collect sacs à poubelles from lots of others as a ‘neighbourly favour’, most of which go into his illicit stash.
His own habit may well have progressed to the largest drawstring sacs, end of the road for most addicts, or têtes poubelles as they’re known to Interpol. They go to extreme lengths to sate their lust for high-grade translucent bags.
Direct confrontation is dangerous. If you tell him you have plenty of bags to be going on with, he will still collect in your name. And get suspicious that you are moving into his territory.
Some in your situation have had to move home to another Region of France to get out of their clutches.
I think there is a Facebook page for international victims of this cruel network of plastiqueomanes. Bon courage et bonne chance!
. …that’s your proof of NON perviness, Peter.
. And, believe, me: your interest has not gone un-noticed! ,
