When Tom Brokaw reached the culminating moment of the Presidential debate he had, um, well, been the "hired hand" for, he sought some kind of meaning that would make the spectacle appear more, well, worthwhile.
Well, East U.S.A. New Hampshire, that is. Amherst. AAAAAAAAAAAAmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhh - erst.
And he gave, as he called it, "fair warning." For it would be "Zen-like".
What? Involving a Koan, perhaps? -- those succinct stories or questions Zen masters use to facilitate insight, which, according to Wikipedia, may serve to "confound the habit of discursive thought or shock the mind into awareness."
Whoever you are, Peggy of AAAAAAaaammmmmmmmmhhhhhhh-erst, thank you.
Brokaw speaks: "What don't you know and how will you learn it?"
And so I, too, in that moment, look Eastward, and take three deep breaths.
Floating in the essence of spirit, I imagine John McCain taking his own three deep breaths, and from his own inner flotation, where he is suddenly centered and whole, brief though that space may be, a sudden truth is born from the emptiness. He opens his mouth, and the uncensored words spring forth that reveal that which he does not know:
"Who Sarah Palin has selected to be her Vice President. And I suppose, to find out, I'll have to ask Dick Cheney."
The colorful auras vibrating around McCain fall away as the audience's gasp sucks the atmosphere out of the room.
The badgering voices in his head rise up again, yelling angrily, and he sputters a correction quickly:
"I mean Steve Schmidt!"
INSIGHT IS ATTAINED.