Become a Follower of the Big Dude!

Meet the divine Dude in this blog. This Dude has had and seen his share of sacred shit. He's not afraid of it or of its language. I can't relate to a god that's been crucified, but I can relate to one whom my government has imprisoned and humiliated. I can relate to one who's been raped by his own holy men. I can relate to one who grew up playing baseball or soccer and who dated the Prom Queen. I can relate to the god who knows the working of corporate conglomerates, pimps, and teen-age girls who are pregnant. I can relate to the god who loves alcoholics and drug addicts just a tad more than wall street hotshots. This Dude thinks all of us are mortal particles in an ocean of sacred shit. This Dude recycles.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

'Twas a Dark and Stormy Night

You know the times!  There are days (and nights) when we can't seem to connect with the higher good, when we're just putting one foot in front of the other, when surviving is all we can manage.  Where the hell is the Big Dude or higher power or universal intelligence or God or whatever?

What is it about the human condition that a sense of belonging or an awareness that we're connected comes and goes?  I guess if we were always connected, we'd have reached enlightenment which isn't entirely possible.  Even the Buddhists agree that the complete enlightenment of one can only exist with the enlightenment of all.  Some days that's comforting and other days, like today, it does nothing for me.

What's wrong with me today, I ask?  Maybe it's that I hate this computer which has Windows 10 and it just seems to have a mind of its own jumping around to pages I don't want and dumping things I do want.  It's like a metaphor for my life.  I set out to write something (have a good day) and the cursor has moved itself so that what I write is mushed into something else I was writing (my day takes an unexpected turn for the worse and another and another).  I end up in Adobe when I'm supposed to be in Word (end up tangled up in my mind when I want to be in my heart).  Maybe it's that I gently set a boundary for my housemate and, not being good at that, I now feel guilty and worried that I hurt her or that she's going to come home later to argue the point.  I hate confrontations!  Maybe it's that I've had a summer of catastrophes to my car, my budget, my body and so on; or, maybe it's that those things served to tweak the part of my mind that cries:  "What am I going to do--nobody has my back!"  That's the same part that yells:  "What am I going to do--my computer won't do what I want and I have no one to ask about it--Damn it!" Ultimately, that all means: "Where the heck is God?"

And so, I'd probably welcome an actual dark and stormy night. I'd worry about the power going out instead of whether I'm losing my mind.  I'd be looking for flashlights and batteries instead of looking for answers. I'm reminded suddenly of a Robert Frost poem. He wrote:

But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.

That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather. 

The "outer weather" is so much preferable to the dark and stormy "inner weather," isn't it?  Roxie

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