Epidode Nine: Zen in the forest.
[Kik and Clim wander through the jungles]
Kik: Clim... I am an artist. What are you?
Clim: I am a slave Sahib. The exotic beverage service executive.
Kik: Yes, I know that... but aren't you sad?
Clim: Sahib... You are an artist ... aren't you sad?
Kik: Yes.
Kik: Clim.... What if you were to be freed?
Clim: Condemned to be free?
Kik: Yes.
Clim: Freedom is worse than slavery, sahib.
Kik: Is it?
Clim: Freedom means being responsible for your own actions.
Kik: If you were condemned to be free?
Clim: I wouldn't know what to do, Sahib.
Kik: Clim... We are all born into this world without reason or purpose.
Then we attempt to survive and do everything to live as long as we can.
Only to feel despair and angst at every moment,
but we just can't let go...
and as we hold on tight to this thing called life...
suddenly we die... we just die.
Clim: My brother died.
Kik: Then, he is free.
Clim: How shall we find your love?
Kik: My sweet Saydine
Clim: Don't disturb him Sahib.
Kik: Why not?
Clim: Otherwise, he will disturb us
Kik: Nonsense.
Clim: Yes, Sahib. Nonsense.
[Kik removes the bowl from Shiris hands]
Shiri: Deeper meanings, ultimate
truth, the final prophesy herein follows...
blah blah blah
it is clear now that when I started this game
this play, this celebration, this
gathering consisted of just a few elements...
elements of green, elements of blue, elements
of a bright light shining through and reaching
everywhere... Everywhere except those shadows,
where nothing can reach... those shadows were
hidden, to be inspected, to be found, to be
explored, to be examined....
then, then, then,
there, there, there, there, ....
forget about figuring it out, how to live, how to eat,
how to drink, how to play, how to breath,
how to defecate...
there, there, there, ....
Assumptions are made, conclusions are drawn, often too fast, often too soon,
fixed in the mind,
fixed in the head, fixed in the brain....
lies, lies, lies....
the final prophecy herein follows...
blah blah blah
Trying to say things with words
it is useless, trying to say things
without words is worse...
who is this? why is he here?
why does he spend his time making
sense of the nonsense.
Give him a reason, give him a purpose, give him meaning.
Give him a sense of grandeur when there is none.
None at all, none at all. Give him this task.
Give him the rituals... and he wakes up in the morning and
performs all the rituals, the
ritual of living, the ritual of eating,
the ritual of drinking, the ritual of playing,
the ritual of breathing, the ritual of defecation,
with seven steps and seven more to complete.
He returns in a circle, combating obstacles
like the sun and the moon. Making sense out of nonsense.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
He does it seven times more than the lesser man.
It grows... it grows bigger and bigger...
the hole, the pit, the vacuum...
it grows... it pains, it shouts, it screams...
aaaaaaah!!!!
...the agony,
the dread, the horror... it grows...
it will destroy, it will deny, it will decay
and only a perfume sprayed in
the right places can cover up the stench....
the final prophesy herein follows...
blah blah blah ...
more time, more wealth,
more this, more that, more than more, more of more, more on more,
no more, no more, no more...
convincing them to stay, asking them to leave,
hating them, loving them...
the short story of a long life...
dull conversations, edible insects,
mosquito jazz....
zzzzzzzzzzzz
begun it has.
Craving for good things,
fast cars, smart-phones, feel better, look better,
new and improved, farm-fresh, limited stock, last edition,  all cards accepted, buy now!
the short story of a long life...
life is beautiful, life is beautiful
Break it down into little
parts... then assemble it back to how it was,
rinse and repeat...
I am Shiri... Shi - ri
- shi - ri - ri - shi - ri - shi...
they say... they say i can see...
I can see the past, I can see
the future.....
I can see the trial and tribulations,
I can see the mourning and the celebration,
I can see the quantum particles moving in chaos...
I can see the galaxies move in cosmos...
there is nothing hidden from me...
like a waterfall tearing up the land to make crevices,
the caterpillar changing into the moth within the pupa
I can see
You need to take a stand...
take a stand...
for normality, for society, for humanity, for calamity
take a stand...
stand up! stand up! stand up!
clap! clap! clap!
people are killing people,
you are killing me, I am killing
you,
ants are killing ants...
the virus spreads.
The virus of grief... of sadness... of boredom...
boredom is the curse of this generation...
nothing can cure it...
no medication, no vaccination...
the dreaded disease.
The masters, the angels
send us a very important message...
and here it is.... it is this
it is this... yes it is this... this?
is it this? yes, this is it.
It has been said time and again...
there are seven steps to become immortal...
step six is exactly the same as step two..
that's where most people mess it up...
they try and do something different...
and yet everyone wants
to die in their sleep...
the easy way out...
the final prophesy herein follows...
blah blah blah
Every time... every time we begin with once upon a time...
that's how a story is told...
there has to be reason, purpose, meaning
without meaning, reason,
purpose there would be no point...
don't tell me that we are born, then we live...
then we die...
where is the point of that?
how would that make any sense?
it can't be... can't be...
there has to be more... so much more...
more than more, more of more, more on more,
no more! no more! no more!
When there is nothing more to be said...
something more can be said...
it can be said, calmly,
it can be said with diligence,
with sincerity and with eloquence...
it can be said... but cannot be heard,
not listened to, not understood, not comprehended....
She was only fourteen... a child...
but that's not how he treated her...
he was sad, lonely, pathetic...
a circle of sorrow...
disgusting...
going from person to person...
the original sin was contagious...
it goes on and on ...
becomes more dreadful every time...
the newspaper
man... he loves stories...
its filled with pain...
and the market loves pain... loves
to buy it everyday...
there is a salvation in
knowing everyone else is as dirty as me....
the sin is sacred... it ties us together...
delicious snack with breakfast...
sin, sin, sin.
lookout for it... we wait for it...
find it in the hidden shadows ...
there, there, there,
feel better...
look better...
I cry ... everyday...
tears of joy... tears of pain...
I scream out and tell him to stop...
it's disgusting...
but he is an animal...
he just wants to feel better
about how his dad had punished him...
there is a circle... there is a repetition...
there is a truth... too bitter... too real...
too uncomfortable...
we seek comfort...
seek, crave, desire, want... comfort...
mommy please hold me!
You think you can start all over again...
but there is no second chance...
this is your life...
this is your life!
not the one you dream about...
or maybe this is the dream of someone else...
there is nothing more...
no more... this is it...
this is where we are... this is where we start, this is
where we end...
conserving the environment?
changing jobs? finding new sources of entertainment?
helping the poor?
the downtrodden, the needy,
charity is the grandest of vanity....
traveling the world... selfies at the Eifel tower,
the statue of liberty, the grand canyon, the pyramids,
the great wall of china, Niagara falls...
how we have fallen...
how far we fall to give it a
reason, purpose, meaning...
degrees, achievements, job titles, promotions...
my boss is an asshole...
but his ass tastes good!
It was said... the meaning
of life... seeking... searching....
in the pictures... in the idols... in the words of
the holy books....
it finds escape... not to be found again...
and even if it was clear...
clear as the sky...
Clear as the mirror in front of your eyes...
even if it was presented to you as a play ...
you still would not see it...
not capable of realization,
not capable of freedom, or enlightenment
or merriment... or condiment...
or sediment...
seeking, searching....
something to give solace...
something to make it better...
more palatable... more understandable, more comprehendible...
something.... something....
[daybreak]
[Kik and Clim resume their journey]
Kik: Clim, I am exhausted and bored.
Clim: Shall we return Saahib? It is getting
late.
Kik: No... never
Clim: Why do you love like this?
Is it all that romance literature you read?
Kik: This is existential. This is deeper.
Clim: You mean you are seeking connection in the other?
Kik: There is no other.
Clim: Look at the clouds... they are eternal.
Kik: I think she is getting close.
Clim: But, we are moving.
Kik: Yes, if we stop moving... we can find
love.
Clim: If we stop moving we will rot, decay.
Kik: Shhhhh ... In silence, we can find love.
[They sit down, and close their eyes]
[Saydine enters]
Saydine: Kik ... my love ... you have found me!
Kik: I am exhilarated
Saydine: Don't be ... this is temporary, it
is transient.
Kik: You mean it will end?
Saydine: Yes... I am one with the forest now...
I am the trees, the wind that moves the leaves,
I am the insect that holds on as the leaf rattles
... I am the dewdrop on the petal of the
wildflower...
and I am the petal too...
Kik: Don't we all wish for eternal love?
Saydine: Eternal love is eternal like the clouds in the sky...
it has nothing to do
with wishes or desires or claims...
[Mr. Mistaah enters]
Mr. Mistaah: I loooove you Kik...
leds zpendda resht of hour leaves tugeeeedar
Kik: That's not possible, I have told you a hundred times,
I love Saydine!
Clim: Everything ends Sahib...
My brother died to prove it. He died, Sahib.
Kik: What about all the things we did together...
those walks... those talks... those moments in time
Saydine: Don't confuse things with their names.
Where are we?
Kik: This is the forest.
Saydine: This is this... we call it the forest...
that is a name we give.
Kik: Yes. We label it that. I have read a book on labels.
But what about us?
Saydine: This is this... we call it love...
that's the name we give.
Kik: Yes. This.
Saydine: I merged with this... So there is
no name you can give me.
Kik: But I see you...
I see the forest ... I see love
Mr. Mistaah: I zeeee looof doo
Saydine: There are three elements at work here...
There is the observer, there is the
observed and there is the process of observation.
Look at the forest, for example.
Kik: I am the observer. The forest is the observed  and yes
there is the process of observation
Saydine: See now... What if the observer observes
the observed.
What if the observer and the observed become one?
Clim: I observer myself?
Kik: This is too literal. I would prefer it if
we talk in metaphors. Leave things open.
This is making me too uncomfortable.
Mr. Mistaah: Abseervung da ipsoorbet, abshorved...
ham i proodounching goredly?
Saydine: What remains?
Clim: All that remains is the process of observation....
there is no observer or observed
Kik: Just the stream of awareness?
Saydine: I am that stream
Kik: That's a beautiful concept. I will write
a poem about it.
Mr. Mistaah: zhoo zhar boodeefoool Kwik
Saydine: I was here... before I was here...
and I will be here after too
Kik: Can language capture this?
Saydine: Language is dead
Kik: Language is dead?
Clim: Language is dead
Saydine: Look within... is it the end?
Clim: Oh damn, maybe it is.
Kik: Exactly... get back to work.
I have to try to put this to words.
This will be art.
This will be my masterpiece. My legacy.
Clim: Whenever I dream... There is a feeling...
that I wanna do something... like purpose?
Kik: Then don't dream.
Mr. Mistaah: Hi drooom honleee of jooo
Kik: Then don't droom... dream!
[Kik and Clim tie up Mr. Mistaah]
