A Jumping Question Mark
It pays not to define these things…
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Get your head out of the Cat and you might become a Dog and as Time is sand in the hand of a young man who only wants to use that palm to grab ass, use those fingers to count money and so - while widening his palms to get a handfull, wiggling his fingers to count a stack of ones - the grains slip out and fall into a place where retrieval is the only false God as they’ll never come back. The seconds will never return. The ass, and the money? Likely the same fate. Grasp air instead. It’s heavier and you can feel it longer.
One can’t dwell on these things - or any for that matter - for too long…. Body in motion stays in motion….stays in motion….stays in motion that body yes it does it rocks and shimmies and roars over the obstacles on the hill until with much force and momentum it hits flat ground and with continued excitement keeps traveling forward without noticing the very downhill slope that got it riled up, is now gone and there’s one sight in mind. The end of the tunnel. So bright! Blinding! It seems to remove the mania inducing shadows but do I want them to leave? Am I me without my Night hues? When friction is missing, art is numb, placid - like eating ice for taste, drinking water for flavor. Friction creates Art. For me. When times for the Worst. It poured out and you’ve heard me before call writing an exorcism - not an expression.
Evangelical music. Creation without Friction- - They’ve given all their pain, torture, powerful friction to God. “They’ve came home. Accepted love. Handed their suffering away.”
Man is struggle. Then he gave all that to God. To free him. And he entered a new chain that Is tightly woven around morality, ethics. God created. Yes he did! But why? He slayed the Leviathan. Why not leave it? What inspired God to create? Inadequacy in current world? Curiosity in ability to do it?
Creation and art and pure flow involve tapping into the side of Sanity that isn’t allowed in the Target self checkout line.
I imagine God with a wild streak and I’ve never gave into the belief of pure mercy or forgiveness as I wouldn’t be able to believe as deeply as I do with that criteria set in stone.
And my relationship with God is different as sometimes I feel he free agents me to the Devil so that I can be ran through the mud, dirty and unsatisfied enough to then again look back up and beg for God.
But again… I speak of God so much. It’s the Southern Baptist in my DNA and I remember 8 years old watching the pastor speak and seeing fire come out of his mouth then 13 years after I met an Angel an broke down cleansed.
I’m young and I know nothing and this is why I don’t give advice anymore and at times I look in the mirror, cock my head to the right and wonder how far Madness hides under the smiling mouth and bright eyes and when at a family members, Joel Olsteen will come on and I think he couldn’t have made a tenth of what he’s made had he used his acting talent in Hollywood instead of Religion.
I see hints that it’s not that far gone. The moon in Aries or the extroverted intuitive in Jungian cognitive theory or the exact OCEAN outcomes. All that categorizing. Try to grab a flame in a bottle and it will disappear.
That old pain, youth anger, Big Ego still lives there when I think of Who I am. What I’ve done. And I remind myself that all those accomplishments and failures were a result of My Personality and that one should not hate themselves as quickly as I do at times.
The valleys match the peaks and when sitting atop that mountain of unjustified self confidence or narcissism or inflated sense of self I feel as God must feel when he sees me, muddy bloody looking up to him for Help.
It’s a cycle and I chose to enjoy where I sit right now with the face and attitude and mood that I have right now as I’m in the gym, sweating, typing this while biking asking myself, am I this great nut I hear I am? Am I really a leader? Am I just really lucky?
How many hands does a poker player need to win before it goes from Luck to Skill?
And one final question - if I met the Me that Did everything I said I was Going-To-Do, how would I feel? Inadequate?
I doubt it. As I always find much joy in thinking that every decision I made got me to be the Me I am now. Somewhere God and Freewill meet and the mutated child conceived out of wedlock looks much like Winston. His smile is crooked and he thinks his face looks funny but damn does view each day as Dali did,
“Every morning when I wake up, I experience an exquisite joy —the joy of being Salvador Dalí— and I ask myself in rapture: What wonderful things is this Salvador Dalí going to accomplish today?” Because he knows the casket only fits one and that the gravesite can fit millions.
