"'Listen', when you are sad, 'listen' to the night sounds. Leaves rustling, birds stirring, sounds as the clouds scrape the moon but especially listen to the frogs, their braying often only funny sound in the evil of a moonless night. It makes you happy .Warms the icy cold threads around the heart and cools the red-hot madness of a crazed mind. His mother had spoken strange, head tilted looking down at him mischievous that held no mischief, with a twinkle, and a strange twisted smile. A dark starry astir night when he found her sitting alone on the well steps .Why had he shuddered afraid and the twisted smile that never left his heart, a splinter in the throat. It was so long ago, remained a tattered whisper in his old head. So now he listened to the frogs, making out the individual ones, the big bull throats the smaller ones, the joker with a half croak, splayed off tone, and there was lightness in his being."
This book is Philosophy. Why should Philosophy be boring? So it is a story too, a delightful racy story of an ancient story teller.
A river, that meanders through the lives, loves, loss ,joy, of people and gossips it to a cool night breeze and sleepless stars .There the stories live, if you know to read them ,life is light ,time your slave.
The Philosphers will not read a story ,the readers of a story leave out the Philosophy.
Try both ,they are best in class ,read to watch 'the eternal striptease' of the heavens.Know why you are here,why and what is all this.
Yes, contemplate on existence, shake hands with god and dare sing a bawdy song as death speaks wisdom . Such, as is life.
An Upanishad of a Crooked river, a Whacko one too,and a song of faith ,all as the river flows on.
