Thursday, April 18, 2013

Integrate Dis




_ No strolling about today, eh, grey seal? No strollin’ about, laddie, mi laddie... although there could be break in the clouds; after all, things have been known to change... to die, for lack of a better word. All things must pass... indeed... And sure they will - you, me... he, she, his, hers, theirs, ours, mine... this and that - all bound for the boundless ocean of nevermore. ’Holding this entire universe in but a fragment of my being, I remain unchanged and transcendent.’ Or some such words to that effect close out the tenth chapter of the Bhagavad Gita... Yes, sir, and yes, ma’am. And with the whole world in his hands he’s not much different than me and you, except for knowing; except for realization. What? The cat got your tongue?
Silent today?... So you’re silent today... alright, okay... I guess that means anything goes... to float within the accommodating confines of limitless silence; to float within the boundless bubble of nevermore. Wrap your heart and mind around and within it, my very good friend, and live in heroic fashion, letting nothing stop you from serving your Lord... Have you heard? Or does being silent preclude hearing, too? You and a lot of other people like you are treading on some very thin ice, my friend. You're playing fast and loose with something that would benefit mightily from a decidedly lighter hand. Handle with care, chief - like the singer sings the song... Don't blame me; I call it as I see it. Anyway, the buzz around the water cooler is that they want to take our death away from us, just like they hijacked our birth. They want to further complicate what, at its inception, is a rather simple affair - living... the art of living, if one would be so kind. No more is it a noble calling to just be; everybody’s a story. Why? Why were we supplied with a story? Shhhh... I know, you can’t speak - I, too, have walked that road. Long legs and broad, strong feet are a help when riding the chariot silently into the flaming fire of evermore - it, too, is a bubble... O yeah... It could be the same... could be the same. But no one is speaking. It could all be the same. No, don’t start with the eyes. If you’re silent, you’re silent... if you're silent, you're silent - a courageous act. A courageous act in that it provides direct access to an inevitability. And all inevitabilities reduce down to only one - there is only one inevitability... AND IT IS NOT DEATH! No, it is not death, for the one inevitability partakes of no story, yet it holds them all within a single fragment of its being and remains unchanged and transcendent. How do you say ‘it’ in the vernacular of one who is silent? Make it a double... a double ‘it’... I don’t think anyone would take umbrage if I were to suddenly jump up from my place at the table and start to berate you loudly. I have paid every dollar ever printed in order to acquire this New York accent - I’ve had it surgically implanted into my bag of tricks -  and, trust me when I tell you, kingfisher, it lends itself well to berating. NuhYawwk!... And what will the people think? And what will all the nice people think? I’ll tell you what they’ll think: They’ll think whatever it is I think they’ll think; and I shall act accordingly. Some may require hugging, some a kiss and others a knuckle sandwich. It’ll be good fun - a laugh. Can you hee-hee-hee when silent? Hee-hee-hee without the hee-hee-hee? Pity if you can’t, however; a cause of grief, to not laugh... In my case it would be a very brief grief, mind you, for I’m on to other things. Take heart though, old bean, for none of this has anything to do with you. What say we belly-up to the bar and see if we can coax the barista into making us a couple of chai? What say we change the subject to change without notice, huh? Don’t think of quilts, instead silently contemplate the thread that holds them together. Or just sit there and enjoy the whole world; it rests silently in your hands. You do have hands, don't you? Don't answer that question... do not answer the question... I want to think that right now you are sitting in silence holding in your cupped hands he who holds the whole world in his hands; and I would further like to think that you are doing so gently.
My, oh my, but isn't that the lady whom I witnessed speaking to her dog as if it were a person? Isn't she the one whom I mentioned as having a conversation with a canine of unknown origin? She spoke at length; it was silent - I couldn't see its undercarriage, so 'it' will have to do. Do you know 'it'?... HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME!... JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?... Look at that... not a single person has jumped up in your defense. I could probably kill you and stroll on out of here. I could berate you in a righteously indignant fit of pique and it would be business as usual in this little tea garden. Gossamer threads of nothing weave the fabric a to b to c to d; and you feel there is something to it? Maybe you don't... maybe it was someone else, in another life. Yes, yes, I woke up dreaming... I met a... Thank you, thank you, you're so kind. True art, my very good friend, speaks the same language as you - SILENCE! You're silent today. You could be a granite countertop; you could be a rainbow five seconds before anyone sees it - you are that special. My fifth wife, when I would ask her how she spent her day, always replied " I don't know." God how I loved her! I was away when she succumbed to the charms of the forty-first wink. I had been vacationing in the Punjab for eight months and wasn't due home for another eighteen. Word reached me during sundowners; I fell silent.... Are all silences the same? AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU?! YOU SIT HERE LIKE A BUMP ON A LOG AND REFUSE TO PICK UP THE TAB?! I'VE NEVER BEEN SO INSULTED IN MY LIFE!... I'm telling you, I think I could dismember you and no one would bat an eye... I wonder what would happen if I were silent?... Greased lightning through somber skies.... CHAI, PLEASE! AND GIVE THIS BUM THE CHECK. If you don't have money on you don't worry. I have a fin stuck between the toes of my loafers. Sure... we're all thieves. I enjoyed an imaginary indiscretion with a woman who doesn't even know my name; in fact, I'm not sure she even exists...

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Marwa Blues

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