I seem to need to binge-purge with writing, to spew the vomitrocious contents of my brain in the possibly vain hope that some kind of clarity may result. The piece you are reading falls under that heading, alas. So, mea culpa for cluttering your screen with my mentritus, but a gaia’s gotta do what a gaia’s gotta do.

Here I go, running as the brain-ball bounces above the words to the jingle that’s relentlessly singing under the picture. Once, I leaped to greet the new day only to be dumped into the drink I thought I’d be toasted with. Back on my day of birth, fateful entry into earthly existence, I finally squirted down my watery slide after a long crazy ride (thirty-six hours, mother said), expecting a celebration. Hey everybody! I’m here! Break out the good cheer!

But that was before I learned how the story is supposed to go.

The newly-arrived (me, and more than likely you, too) were casually caught, treated like things, slung to the side to be sucked out, palpated, stuffed, packaged and wrapped. Not that poor, tired, trapped mums were treated any better. It was just the same-old, same-old nature of life here on this plane, but to say it seemed insane to me then is about as under as I can state the matter.

And now, the constant clatter of high heels on marble and concrete, the nattering background drone of television undertoning every conversation, the roar of motorbikes and muscle cars, unmuffled because more decibels are cooler, drowning out the industrial white noise every urban dweller must take for granted or go mad… these all must have rattled everybody else’s brains and addled their sense of something wrong, something missing, something fatally awry, but I…

… I must’ve been hiding under my bed or (more likely) lost in a book when the deaf and blind was handed out. I thought I was so smart, but might have been happier had I joined the queue of winners and losers taught young to manipulate the controls of their souls, turn this need down, amplify that desire, damp the fire of life-force. That’s how you make it here in this so-called real world, which ironically consists of putting in wasted time until you die in order to qualify to live, finally,in the heaven of your dreams.

That is, unless you fail to avoid committing any of a myriad compelling sins, then you’ll be condemned to be sent to the bad eternity instead of the good one you were promised. What are the odds of winning that lottery? Can anyone really walk the razor-fine line that supposedly leads to forever’s heavenly reward?

Hell, I can’t even walk a straight line from here to tomorrow without getting distracted by the urge to drown any of a thousand sorrows I’ve been forced to suppress over the course of trying to survive this crazy world.

I regretfully report that I consistently come up fatally short on the Sin-o-Meter. It seems the dream of heaven is not to be my fate. Still, when I peer more closely at that photo, the heaven it shows is far too stiff and stilted for my taste.

As for the long winding road, my load is way too heavy to carry so far. Much, much better my loosey goosey, unwinding, undefining dance into the bliss of eternal Now, and damn both Hell and Heaven altogether. All worry and stress about wrong versus right can just take flight with the birds on the breeze, take root to be flowers for bees, become sweet scent wafting through the trees, oh yes.

Ah, oh, yes. Such pleasure, such a treasure trove of blessing be mine whenever I re-member my eternally divine miracle, my mantra, so simple, so gravid:

“Here I am, now.”

This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 25th, 2008 at 1:01 am and is filed under crazy poetry, truth and strangeness. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.