Thursday, May 3, 2012

I Relate to Myself So Much! Life is like a transition between past tense and present tense though, isn't it?


As I reach his afro I level off and plunge in an arc to the other side. I try to steer in the air but apparently the God’s of this universe are selective in the physical laws they apply, because I was helplessly falling down. I squeeze my eyes together, preparing myself for the sharp impact. After a while of waiting blindly, I tentatively open my eyes to find that my bike is gone and I am floating. I dare to breathe, afraid that similar to floating upon water, I will sink. Finding that I go down a bit as I breathe out I quickly bring it in again. Struck with an idea, I attempt to doggy paddle through the air. It works! I begin to do breast stroke across the sky. I am almost like a triathlon athlete!
Suddenly a rainbow arrow shoots me down. There is no pain but a feeling of jubilation. I descend smiling wide. The ground is not as happy as the air, however, and I feel immediately frigid and vulnerable. I am immersed in complete darkness. There are no instructions; there is no map – no nothing. The only plan I have is to try to move and warm up. As I am doing my jumping jacks I hear the most frightening roar. Similarly to how cars move out of the way when an ambulance is behind them, I just narrowly avoid being stampeded by heavy breathing, damp beasts. I continue to do jumping jacks until the bloody blisters on my feet force me to stop. My stomach grumbles with the ferocity of an avalanche. I have no idea what to do. Eyes having adjusted to the darkness, I notice many dead or sick trees. I break off a sharp piece and sit down concealed by a thorned, but fleshy bush. I waited for what feels like days. I hear the pounding of dark creatures and manage to skewer the last of the pack. The beast was warm, and as disgusted as I am, I skin it and wear it for warmth. All this waiting makes me realize my insignificance, and also the fears I had buried deep inside. My instincts and tenacity to survive brings out this beast. The dark gives me an opportunity to speculate and think a lot. I settle down into a deep sleep.
            I don’t know why I keep resetting it, putting myself through this cheese grader of life. Perhaps I need to be in smaller more palpable pieces to melt onto the toasted bread. The Panini machine comes down and anticipating the torture, I wince. The pain does not come. Instead a giant colorless but radiant fog surrounds, absorbs, and restructures me.
            I grip my now wisdom-bloated gut and squeeze. I have become real. I don't exist; I am a living creature, a human, capable of empathy.
            Life is like Tetris, when you get the shape to fill the gap you take it for granted (unless it is a line) but when you get a piece that doesn't fit anywhere and you mess up your whole game.
            Wrinkles indicate the forward motion of time but also the slow shattering of the soul. When will it be too much?
            My heart is full and yearns to share but my spirit is empty and wants to be left alone. Living with this contradictory body splits me in opposite directions like a giant rubber band being stretching with two cars venturing to different ends of the earth.
Life is precious. I shouldn't take for granted the nourishment I receive and take at will. I get to choose the fate of my own body. I wish there were dietary supplements for my mind and soul.
            I am an elephant, never forgetting, and always watching. I have Dumbo ears, observing and preserving. For what purpose do I document the events that surround me? I am a seam on the tapestry of the world. I help to hold it together. I bind the strands of time and space, making way for revolutions and solutions.
            I know what I must do. I must take the knife of reason and gut my existential crisis. Clean myself like a great trout captured through patience. I must purify and open myself to the possibility of feeding others. Providing my experiences and emotions for others to feast. I am no fish. I am a homo sapien sapien. My ancestors trace back to the origins of the earth. My DNA is the living record and story of how the Earth changed.
            Most poisons are medicines in small doses. Vaccines are weakened microbes. Reflections are proof of my physical presence in this world. It may be daunting but I will soon undertake the struggle of a lifetime. I will dose myself carefully with specs of my shadow. I will not embrace, but I will also not fight. I must learn to accept it. Small parts at a time with gratitude and appreciation. I am thankful to be on this earth. I am thankful for having all the privileges I have been granted in my life. I am thankful for the natural humanity that I was blessed with.
            Water is amazing; it is life despite it not being alive. I want to become the living water. I want to flow in everyone's veins and fall from the sky. I want to hydrate thirsty children and wash away illness from their wounds.
            I’m still looking for that lost key. The one and only. It’s deep in the pile of shit in my room. Buried in between some old smelly sock and forgotten journal I’d imagine. It will be my life's journey to find it. It’s kind of reminiscent of the "room of requirements" in Harry Potter. The only difference is that besides the key it only contains that which I have thrown out. There is no lock.
            When there are obstacles I’ll run right up them into the sky, into that vertical scape of space, past the stars and into the rest of the unexplored universe. I will drop by the Milky Way to have a cookie, but cannot stop for long. I am on a mission to discover and to erase. The world is my cluttered room, but also the midwife of my dreams. She does not care whether I die or live -- her only objective is to successfully birth new life. After this innocence is corrupted there is no reason for her to be there any longer. She witnesses and is integral to creation, but is not attached. She knows that there will always be more. More spinning forward.
I take another deep breath. I blow out the warm air from my lungs creating icicles in the air as I breathe out. I agree; it is wonderful to create. And that fog that emerges is brief, but satisfying. It goes into the atmosphere and loses its distinct features. I am grateful. I used to think these musings were a waste of the universes resources, but I now see that it makes it more efficient. It desentimentalizes individuality while optimizing the motivation for each to excel within their own vein. Few people become whole, but I am determined to appreciate the journey towards this destination. Relish each taste of progress, and weep over the failures and recessions that make me stronger.
I wake up and I am in a warm comfortable bed. I am happy. The rush of serotonin is overwhelming. My body feels loose and liberated. I no longer felt that tight, cold sensation throughout my muscles. At this very moment I know that I can do anything I want. My straight jacket has departed. I toss the covers off my legs as the sun from outside welcomes me home with a gentle warm graze. I emerge as a new spirit, not innocent but cleaned from my former life. Through that vision in the water slide I was able to operate on myself. I was able to remove the malignant tumor embedded in my essence. Nothing remains of what plagued me. Part of me is relieved, because it means I am fully free. The other part of me though, wants a scar so that I can remember that it was a real struggle and not just a dream.

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