Bliss

Rose knew it’d be a beautiful decision putting the disability act in their short sweet Ghost Dance - maybe in the rising action leading to an epiphany or in the falling action with heart-breaking catastrophic transformational awareness. Cut. The end. Cue applause.

“How can I know what I think until I see what I say?” said a child with reported speech. Their wheel of life played tag with crazy wisdom.  Mu-shin, their state of “no-mind” blossomed where thought, emotions and expectations did not matter.

Who’s dragging around this bag of bones? Where do I park this empty vehicle? I have poems and stories to finish that I haven’t even started yet.

“To sleep, perchance to dream.”

“A dream is an unfulfilled wish,” said a kid with a Ph.D. in Psychoanalysis from the Jung Institute in Zurich.

“What else did he say?”

“He said, ‘There is no royal road to wisdom. To arrive in the future I must journey to the past. To attain the sanity with the One, I must risk the whirling madness of the possessed. One must confront their shadow or be crushed by it.”

“I like it,” said Rumi. “What else?”

“Well, here’s another cool thing he said. “‘I liken the formation of a character to weaving fabric. You know what happens when you make a mistake? The whole pattern is spoiled. You have a choice. You can finish the garment, however it will always be botched and ugly or you can unravel the weaving back to the mistake and start again. That’s basically what analysis is about. It’s a tedious job. The patient is scared and hostile. The analyst lends patience, honesty and courage.’”

“Excellent,” yelled kids, “here’s to our being patient patients with honesty and courage.”

“Speaking of courage, I’m looking for someone who knows reading and writing,” said Rose.

“I can read and write,” said the children. "We also love drawing, singing and dancing.”

“Reading and writing is power. Dance is life. Perfect. Let’s go together,” said Rose.

Downstairs at Sacred Heart Hospital a translucent mother saw her grief reflected in Beauty’s mirror. “This is my worst nightmare,” whispered her heart-mind.

Rose said, “Afraid to face the truth adults run away. They run away carrying their fear like a heavy bag of bricks. They are afraid to see the beauty, strength and dignity of Death and letting go.”

“Why?” said mother.

“They stay away because they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. The child’s spirit is pure energy. They have the strength to let go. Adults find Death a scary thing so they run away.”

“I see,” said a gardener trimming thorns below a tree house. “I know Death’s beauty and wisdom. Metaphors and mortality exist with initial memories. Memories are figments of our imagination. I am a dreamer in nature, bigger than the universe, in never-never-cuckoo land. I am a witness collecting evidence that tells no lies. The deeper you go the deeper the bliss.”

ART

Old man coyote

“A dream is an unfulfilled wish,” answered a kid with a Ph.D in psychoanalysis from the Jung Institute.

“What else did he say?” 

“He said, ‘There is no royal road to wisdom. To arrive in the future I must journey to the past. To attain the sanity of oneness with the One, I must risk the whirling madness of the possessed. One must confront their shadow or be crushed by it.”

“I like it,” said a seer named Rumi. “What else?”

“Well, here’s a cool thing he said. ‘”I liken the formation of a character to weaving fabric. You know what happens when you make a mistake? The whole pattern is spoiled. You have a choice, you can finish the garment, however it will always be botched and ugly, or you can unravel the weaving back to the first mistake and start again. That’s basically what analysis is about. It’s a tedious job. The patient is scared and hostile. The analyst lends patience, honesty and courage.’”

“Excellent,” yelled kids, “here’s to our being patient patients with courage and authenticity.”

“Speaking of courage, I’m looking for someone who knows reading and writing,” Rose said to the children.

“Oh, I don’t know anything about reading and writing,” a child told Rose. “I thought you said eating and fighting. I know about that.” 

“Perfect, let’s go together,” said Rose.

“Do you know any good stories?” a child asked Rose.

“A few. Would you like to hear one?”

“Sure.”

“This is a story about Old Man Coyote.”

“Old Man Coyote stood on the bank of a river with a friend. It was early spring and the river at that point was more than a mile across. After watching the sun set in the west, his friend said, ‘Tell me, Coyote, what is it that transcends everything in creation?’”

“Old Man Coyote pointed at the muddy water in the river and said, ‘When you drink all the water in this stream, then I will tell you.’”

“I’ve already done that,” his friend said. He defiantly crossed his arms over his chest.

“Then I must have already told you!” Old Man Coyote said.

“Very good,” said a child. “Know any more?”

“Ok, one more, then I need to roll along. Lots of children to see today.” 

“One bright summer day, Rabbit asked Old Man Coyote, ‘Where is the right path?’”

“The right path is the one that leads into the forest,” replied Old Man Coyote.

“I'm not asking about that one!”

“Well, what path are you asking about?”

“I'm asking about the Path of Knowledge,” said Rabbit.

“Oh,” said Old Man Coyote. “That path! That path is very clear. It is as straight as a bowstring. You can face it without hesitation. But I’m warning you, all who travel along that path trouble only themselves.”

Hammock Heaven

Greetings,

Once upon a time there was a human. They were resourceful and strong. They realized an opportunity. They took a chance. They considered the risk assessment and consequences of acting on their chance. It was one chance. It would never come again. They looked at the world. 

It was sleeping in a hammock.

Give me a hammock and I'll change the world, said the human.

How to live? said Socrates.

Metta.