Turn Off the Machine

Every so often, you have to turn off the machine, and for me that usually happens this time of year. I have a long, long list of things to do, not the least of which is ger repair and maintenance, cabin repair and maintenance, and my own repair and maintenance. Then, after everything is repaired and maintained, I have some courtesy visits to make back home in Asia.

So many deserts, so little time.

Busy, busy, busy until the Tibetan New Year rolls around, which happens to be on Valentine's Day 2010. Was sort of planning to treat myself to retreat for 2010 - 2012, so we might have a long absence in the works.

What to do with my giant infant, the Digital Tibetan Altar Blog? The readership right now is simply astonishing -- the largest audience we have ever had, and it keeps growing at a steady rate. If I go walkabout, who will keep the world safe for naljorpas, desert dwellers, and rabbit fanciers?

When I was previously on holiday, my experiments with guest authors didn't seem to work out all that well. Will there will be a black hole in this blog when I am gone? Should I start a blog about not blogging?

What is that word academics like to use? Oh, yes... sabbatical.

While I am on sabbatical, I will still post from time to time, and there is always the trusty auto-post, written today for your viewing pleasure next month. However, if I go on retreat, naljorpas, desert dwellers, and rabbit fanciers will have to fend for themselves. You know, I warned you many times this was coming.

It is like the epitaph on a hypochondriac's tombstone:

"I TOLD YOU I WAS SICK!"

There are something on the order of 1,200 posts on this blog already, so in an emergency you can use the search function or just browse. On the other hand, you could just turn off the machine and go on your own sojourn, or sabbatical, or retreat. Worst comes to worst, you could always stop reading about Buddhism, talking about Buddhism, buying "Buddhist supplies," and thinking about Buddhism, and actually practice, but I realize that is probably asking too much.

Those of you from the sixties remember Abbie Hoffman's Steal This Book.

Well, this is Terrible Tenpa's Turn Off the Machine.

Why, you ask?

Paris Hilton looks for copy of High Desert
at L.A.'s trendy Bodhi Tree Bookstore

I don't know... sometimes it doesn't demand a lot of angst or examination. Sometimes it doesn't need a whole lot of explanation. Sometimes it is sufficient to merely state that this is just the way things are.