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Yep.
Once read a comment on a Buddhist parable (from 'Book of the Great Decease'?) where the illuminated sausage peddlers in the city square remained within a state of Buddha-consciousness (as it were) while slicing up their wares - each precise motion of the mind, arm, hand and knife itself a complete act of awareness (and Will, natch...).
It's also said that 'the Buddha is an excrement spatula' - which I take to be an underscoring of the absolute mundaness of the principles which inform one's contemplative life.
In the end, humanity's pursuit of illumination resembles some particularly obnoxious comedic skit; like Andy Kaufman's ghost performing as Padsambhava, hell-bent and bad company - driven slowly mad, and finally himself extinguished, by a taste of Crazy Wisdom...
Andy never indicated which part of his weird acts were the funny bits - that was the funny bit. I take wisdom (or rather, Wisdom) as being of the same substance. Every act is profoundly germaine because... ...well, it just is. That's the part you can't point to - the point, indeed.
I gather that upon the epiphanous realization of this such-ness one usually composes a haiku, heads into the wilderness to feast on locusts and honey, take up auto-flagellation or some such; and, too, one's eyes begin to gleam like a well-stoked shaman's, with, like...infinite zeal, or something. I've got a job, man. I have to be seen by people, relate to them, make it through the various check-out lines, traffic-lights, and phone calls which punctuate my daily trip. These necessary social hurdles hinder my willingness to make that absolute break with ordinary reality which enlightenment seems to mandate...
That was what I was trying to say in my original reply, before the babbling took hold.
<note to self: Next time, post first, smoke pipe later...>
'What if I were to ask you a hypothetical question?'
HDP
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