Life, Meaning and Stories

I have been having a tough time lately. I have not been at all sure what this was about, and it is starting to gel, or make sense, come into focus about two thirty this morning.

Now, an hour later, I am ready to start writing and putting words together.

I have so much to say, and all the electronic time and space to say it. I am burning coal, a sacred fire with this phosherant light on the screen, incandescing light over my shoulder and thinking about the melting ice caps, carbon loading into the atmosphere, and My recently dead friend, calling to me for help-

All things are connected. This is the greatest truth. How they appear to be connected and the stories we use to talk about it, to express it. Is essentially the art of Humanity.

I like big stories, if you can’t tell. It’s an expression of a big ego and a big humanity. And the surrender and embrace of all this messy noisy, dirty life, as we collectively foul our nest. I guess it’s like my life and my house. I have to get it really messy before I clean it up.

I am so happy to feel connected with my life and purpose again. It is difficult when we feel disconnected. I often feel discontent, angry, purposeless and irritable when I am unconnected to a meaningful story in my life.

Recently I have these two powerful stories to use as threads, to weave a picture, to tie people and ideas, meaning and events together to create an experience of living. Joy and purpose and wonder, at myself at life at humanity and this wonderful adventure called life.

Maybe it’s more than two threads; maybe it’s two thousand. I don’t know. Let’s find out.

So One thread is my life. Oy Vay! So much Drama, Mary, I can’t tell you, even where to begin is impossible. I will start with returning from Two months in India, Seeking, finding and playing with the God’s.

It was amazing. It is still beyond the confines of my small life. It is so big; it would take a few pages to event start to express it.

Good !!!

So I got back from India, All well and good. But wait, even that was a lie. I mean the journey home was problematic. I was not even started and the problems were happening.

I was up in North India, Really a country called Sikkim, used to be part of Bhutan, or so the Ruler of Bhutan believed. Truth is, A place belongs to the earth, like us, and those of us who live in a place have the opportunity to respond to the place as caretakers, as husbands and wives, or vandals and thieves, crazy whacko who think it’s OK to cut down trees, dig up Ore, make a mess and then walk away without another thought . . .

Ohh, I’m digressing again?

No, I am adding a few threads to the fabric of this story, so the scope widens, so we can see the whole world, and ourselves, in this story.

No I did not realize I was writing a book about the world, but I guess I have figured that out.

Halleluiah.

Leonard Cohen is Christ; do you know what I’m saying?

Let us pray, for each other, and the world, for cooling and forgiveness

And my Dead friend, and yours, ancestors and Lovers, competitors and enemies,

Especially the enemies, for without them, we could never see ourselves.