Today’s Words:
conversion
skin
famulus
seek
opposite
schlep
weary

When we die, we must spend a good amount of time just recuperating. Sitting around in the etheric plane, feeling at one with everything, just weary from the years of trying to be an earthling. All the seeking and the schlepping and converting and getting together and breaking apart, living in bags of skin, so squishy and confusing, finding dreams and then seeing them grow tarnished, our attachments worn down and worn out by the sheer exhaustion of holding on. Does anyone learn to surrender, or do we just get tired?

So, desiring a break from dualities, from the constant interplay of opposites, we sit around on the great cosmic couch and play we-are-all-one with our long-lost buddies, the cat that died when we were five, Joan D’Arc, who also played the part of our mom several times and once our twin brother. Joan was far from her favorite role, although it was of course the most famous. But in the afterlife, earthly fame is seen as a bit of an embarrassment. Yes, that was me. Yes, my ego, yeah, I get it OK? Stop reminding me.

What I would really love is just to take a bit of a break now and again, take a vacation to the afterlife, take a breather from the living and the striving. Don’t tell me to meditate, I’d rather die a bit and come back. But eh, probably I just need a nap. I’ve got razor blades in my throat from this damn cold and all the remedies I’ve found make me retch.

I know I’m far from done, my ego has great plans for me, it gets bored so easily and wants to go go go like sixty-thousand, so I know why I came here. I just wonder, really? Like, what, in the end, is all the striving for? The striving feeds the beast, the attainment of desires feeds the craving, so what to do?

Well, live from inspiration, right, that’s my mantra, so why don’t I do it? I tell you, sometimes. I think perhaps my existential ennui is only a mental habit, and it will float away. It’s already much less intense than days of yore. It’s a mild disgruntlement, a need for a nap and a crying jag, not a full-on depression with mad TV binges and Doritos and jelly beans for breakfast.

So really it’s all getting better. My personality is stabilizing. I’m becoming happier every year. So hah! Good for me! Eh, I feel ill.