Now to the outside observer I was a tough kid, smart kid who won fights wit kick boxing when everyone was still in the ‘put up your dukes’ era of fighting. I’d face knives and later guns and be surrounded by swat teams and military units but I’d never lose the fear that this time I might crack. I’d stood up to so many threats and persevered. But I was afraid.
I’m afraid today. Jesus said “Do not be afraid”. Anxiety is a measure of our distance from God and our humanity. Desire is suffering. But then I did my time as a stoic. Years in church and years of day long meditations, fasting for weeks, going without food, years with out even masturbating let alone sex, a life in a library and all that delayed gratification as part of the God seeking. What am I doing here on this planet now and what is my purpose. What is my meaning. I studied science and holy texts of every religion and settled down to the rigours of a theologiy degree. More paper on the wall. Still I cry out, “my god why hast thou forsaken me’ and I’m long past the age of crucifixion. I’m no longer torn through my being by love lost and the disappointment of women or the shame of men. I’m in God’s waiting room. Death eyes me daily. I’ve seen death up close and now it lives with me. Every time I get on a motorcycle or walk outside in the city. This could be it. Cancer or disease could be in me. I live as if life is eternal but here on earth there’s a suspiciou of mortality. Others died and perhaps so shall I.
I believe in a multiverse and that I carry on. In heaven. After death. But what if this life isn’t a punishment or something I have to escape from. Maybe this was a reward for time well spent. Maybe life is a gift, a garden of eden without the fall. Maybe it’s to be lived fully, epicurean, loved, embraced. Maybe I shouldn’t play it safe. We’re not here for a long time but a good time.
Why does it matter if I did in my bed at a hundred or at 20 of an overdose or from diabetes for too much chocolate or a heart attack playing golf drinking whisky or a fall climbing Mount Everest. Why does it matter? Why have children or not have children? Each choice assumes a myriad of conditions. Yet here I am today and only this day lies a head of me.
I’m called eccentric, radical, different and admit to climbing mountains, sailing oceans, marriage and divorce, sex with men and women and shooting guns, hunting fishing, and meditation days on end, or kneeling in prayers and living in old libraries. I’ve still got that ancient fear. The existential angst. I wonder if I’m really doing what I’m supposed to be doing. If there’s a plan. God’s word. I follow it for others. The Golden rule. Jesus said, Love God and Love your neighbour as yourself. C.S. Lewis said there are 4 loves, Agape, love of God, Eros, sensual love, folios, brotherly love and I forget the fourth which I would guess was family love. Agape, Eros and Filios are what I remember. Then I looked it up and the last is ‘affection’ love. Acquaitenances etc.
Younger I searched everywhere for meaning and truth and love. Carl Jung said it was within. Paramahansa Yognanda talked of the self and the 5 senses. Vonnegut said we are peepholes on reality. AA said ‘we’ll love you till you can love yourself.’ Namaste says ‘the god in me salutes the god in you’. We are one. There is this intelligence in all. I wrote the song for university , sung by the choir, so many years ago. “I am God, you are god. God is greater than we are. Yahweh’. The madrigal that served instead of a research paper. Later I’d write a paper on comparative heavens considering the religion by the reward and concluding only Christianity and Taoism appealed. Valhalla seemed like a long of work fighting in heaven for ever despite the daily new body. Same with 72 virgins. I am here happy with an old friend.
In Covid everything has shrunk. The friendship circle, the contact with family, the entertainment. It’s very vanilla. Going to get the mail is an event, the cause for going out, the excuse for fast food on the same trip. Last night the puppy and I had MacDonalds. He loves MacDonalds and I loved the change from my own food preparation.
He let me meditate today and only attacked me when I was doing sit ups. I kept my eyes open because he tried another day to nip my balls or butt when I was doing sit-ups. I wear a night shirt to bed and try to exercise a bit after meditation. I can tolerate puppy body on top of me in the yoga stretches but the sit ups were where I was vulnerable. Ironically all I had to do is keep my eyes open and watch him. Then coffee and yogurt and a protein bar. Now it’s shower and dress and walk. Then another day of intense difficult exhausting work and ever the time pressure. I don’t know what to do differently. I’m trying to clean up the clutter. My priority is the puppy. He allows no other Gods but him. I am waiting for a vaccine like everyone. I doubt the whole political world today, don’t trust the especailly evil politicians in Ottawa., have a little more confidence in the local lot but all of them seem like a gang intent on stealing. I fear aging in poverty. I see middle class people in food lines and hear of patients without heat in rooms or cock roach infested dwelling and they like veterans did the deal. At the end the nursing homes have been a disaster zone. When I foresee I’ll be vulnerable there will be no one to protect me from the government. I want to see a different end. An accident on Mars rover. A crash while test flying a new air ground motorcycle. Not this recurring vision of Nurse Ratchet, the immigrant lady who hates Christians or men. Or sex. I watched the black nurse lord it over the white men in the nursing home and know that if it hadn’ t been for my sister in law my father would have had more abuse. Caring for Mom and Dad showed us how the government didn’t care for the old except those who had money and Dad had his pension with the whore tried to get from him after a life of spending and drugs. There I was protecting my good father and mother in their 80’s housed with street people, these two wonderful middle class folk who were no longer protected from the clever that had served the gutter, stealing in the night and trying to extort. I remember the bullies I fought in the institutions who were protected by the authorities . Even now our government pays for terrorists and lets criminals out of the jail,
Justice.
Well I’m afraid.
There is no solace in this life. Today I am relatively safe. I must watch for my expectations as they are preformed resentments. I must seize the day. Live in joy. Listen to the memorized prayers. This too will past. All shall be well. The Lords’ Prayer. Hail Mary. All shall be well. May the long time sunshine always surround me. All day I will listen to nails scraping on window panes. I am doing okay but the 10% unemployment , the fear and anxiety.
I remember almost dying twice in rip tides.
Right now this Covid is a marathon. A trek. Like life. Not a sprint. It’s a message too. I thought I was spiritual but I’ve still so much further to go. Now another coffee and a shower. I’d love to lie in bed in youth naked making love. “Broken Radiator, hammers beating on the sign downstairs, you and i have risen played our love games on the squeaky bed, oh the squeaky bed.’ That was the poem I wrote 40 years ago,in love and filled with joy, innoscent , my heart not scarred, my mind not corrupted, the piles of bs, looking like manure through my rose tinted glasses.
John Lennon was assassinated . The Bolsheviks believed in assasination. That’s why Lenin, Stalin, Molotov, and Trotsky beat the Mensheviks. Steal a little and they put you in jail, steal a lot and they make you king. Spiritual warfare wages. Do not be afraid.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment