The Big Head Peanut Man

The Big Head Peanut Man is one with his salt and vegetable oil.

If casually inspected, those condiments are just what they appear to be – salt and oil.

Nothing special here, utterly transparent and ordinary, and yet there is an undeniable aroma of saturation in bliss exuding from the roasted snack.

Even such a seemingly small thing can bring some happiness to our lives.

For the size of his peanut body, his head might appear proportionately too big, but he is not in conflict with his given shape, having come to peace and acceptance of that transitory shell formation.

How is it that he came to be fitted in such a container? If we stop to ponder this question, already we are miles away.

In the same sense, if we were to remark on the balance of nut, salt, fat, and mystery assembling themselves in such a way as to constitute the Big Head Peanut Man, it might clarify the matter to realize that it is merely an arbitrary combination of memory associations being subjectively applied to that which is essentially beyond objective determination.

I once shared a bag of salted roasted peanuts with a friend, while strolling the awesome Botanical Gardens in the ineffable Emerald Park.

Clouds and sun intermingled, and the wind lifted a thin layer of translucent mist above our blended heads as we sat with a curious squirrel and a lonely quail in the company of eccentric Succulents.

We said little, because everything said it for us. There are countless ways to enjoy physical embodiment – why stop at the obvious?

Soon the peanuts were gone, but the empty space which was left in the bag was more magnificent than anything a poet could ever say.

It’s the same state in which we now exist, but without the incessant craving with which we are habitually infecting our experience in this realm of thought and sensation.

That said, the hunger of the heart will not by assuaged by imitations of immortality, or pious platitudes from the intermediary zone.

Instead, let’s just appreciate the vastness of the afternoon sky, and the way that the fog rolls in and momentarily obscures it, without jabbering on about the various subtle aspects of classical Madhyamika.

Why trouble the mind with conceptual metaphors, when all we really want is to just sigh and exhale? When we simply let ourselves be in that open, relaxed way, all the busy contrivances of the ego-mind’s ambition are surrendered – just let go.

In the process, the great wisdom that sees the innate nature as it is, and the vision that perceives all possible things, begins to shine through our density with a clarity almost too bright for human eyes to bear.

Confusion arises when something seemingly is, but actually isn’t, like mistaking the body-mind-self for our actual identity, or the Big Head Peanut Man for a mere literary device.

In that place where no doubts or intellectual questions arise, the Big Head Peanut Man was with us, as he always is — neither hoping nor regretting, a little joyous, a little tender, a little sad – just a silent friend when you would like to have one with you, effortlessly emanating the prior unity of emptiness and compassion.

Few hear the secrets hidden within his shell — who has ears for such music? If we’re not totally open or free from within, then his heartbroken expression of humility mixed with ecstasy cannot really be felt, or even noticed.

Isn’t it enough that anything appears at all, as unaccountable as that feat is?

Isn’t it enough that the essence of mind is empty, its nature is aware, and its capacity unconfined?

Whether a Big Head Peanut Man actually incarnates into this world or not, or whether he really sings or not, the nature of things is still the nature of things.

Let’s give this conflicted, grasping mind a break. What is it we really love?

Anyone who feels the slightest separation from what they love may find themselves straining to hear his silent song, forgetting it is their own silence, singing.

When we finally stop and listen, everything simply disappears, as if it was never really there.

Maybe it never was?

Later, we wander down to the beach.

He skips behind in his transcendental form, playing games of hide & seek between the worlds of the visible and invisible.

Both manifest and unmanifest, and yet beyond all that is He!

Sometimes, just when we say, “Aha!” he is off and on his way again.

Funny Big Head Peanut Man!

When we finally wade out into the ocean, all our salt dissolves.

peanut man


About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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