Write something today, and said no, thank you, knowing all too well that I would -what with free will and all that sort of rubbish. Anyway, I'd been meaning to type something profoundly clever for quite some time. However, the thing with typing is, you have to do it from somewhere, a sort of foundation, a ground on which to stand before taking aim at some deeply existential target disguised in convoluted banter, and truth is, I've been feeling like an awfully unfocused mass of confusion -if ever such thing as an awfully unfocused mass of confusion could feel. Imagine a fog spilled all over the place, with no real center; that would be me, and how can anyone write in this sort of condition?
Of course excuses are excuses, I should've written a little thank you to Alex and his family for the jar of veggies they sent me last Wednesday -after all what's Facebook for? So Alex and Zhenya, and family, thank you so, so so so much.
The guru said write and I said no, knowing all too well that I would be doing exactly that -what with having a choice and all. Driving by the campus area, not really paying enough attention to the hectic traffic of slow moving cars, and zigzagging-too-close-to-my-front-bumper-for-their-own-health-and-what-the-!-environmentally-caring-cyclists, I caught myself pondering on some serious questions, sort of questions that come with funny looks and bouts of mumbling to oneself, you know the kind that pop out when you least expect it, yeah, that sort of questions. Anyway, I caught myself thinking about how lost I've been this past couple of deca..., eh, how about we just say recently and leave it to that.
Driving poorly, I was castigating myself for being the root cause of all the ills of the world and more -a typical symptom for someone suffering with a chronic case of the good ol' illusions of grandeur syndrome. Not only that, but being of the industrious multitasking type, I was also rummaging in a closet with enough buried skeletons it may as well have been a very popular public cemetery. Once again, I was casting judgment, skillfully might I add -what with being human and prone to sticking, or at least reverting, to unhealthy patterns.
Poorly grounded, I was bouncing in slow motion between dichotomies -metaphorically speaking that is, between light and darkness -metaphorically speaking again, in case you were wondering. There are times when I feel inspired. There are times when the flame within is as bright as sunlight. Shadows disappear, and everything seems possible. Yet even then, I hear the shadows calling from the abyss. Shadows that shrink away from the light, but never die. Shadows that know my name. Shadows that know me well. After all, they are part me, and as such there is no escaping them. Sooner or later, I look down, and as everyone knows, when walking on a tight rope, somewhere between there and there, one should never look down -I'm pretty sure it's in chapter four of 'Tight rope walking for dummies'. But I do. Over and over again. And I fall over and over again.
Sometimes however, and maybe because the divine prefers curves to straight lines, falling, or rather plummeting, I grow wings -and a jet pack. The fall becomes a flight, and flying, I soar. Coyotes, after all -and as the mad shaman tends to suggest, behind a cloud of sacred smoke, for the bastard is smoking like a tavern's chimney- should always get another second chance.
The Guru asked to write and I said no, knowing all too well that I would, because the devotee is in love, ecstatic love that is. They say when the disciple is ready the teacher comes. Today, the divine seems to have a shape, a scent and a taste and I am totally inebriated. The flame within is ablaze, and I'm about to put a fireproof sign with the following warning: "Hot! might burn you if you come too close." Words fail to describe what it is I feel. Everything is illuminated, as ecstasy embraces me.
The Guru asked me to write and I said no, and then I wrote and that was that, as for meanings, I invite you to find your own, and good luck with that.
Be well, be happy, be kind.
Between dichotomies, between pleasure and sadness, glimpsing the light -and I'm not talking about the one at the end of the tunnel
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