Meglomanical Musings
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2001-06-08 20:01:50 (UTC)

My Epiphany

Now I am reminded of a lesson I thought I'd already
learned... the meaning of pain. I note that many people
look at me and assume I am largely successful. Little do
they know, realize, or even care that I'm hungry. Funny the
visible thoughts that come to those unaware of the vicious
battle raging around them, unseen.
I now lack the wonder of why. Why I average a meal every
three days while attending a high power corporate job,
living in filth, trying to maintain and reel in control of
all my senses, the gnaw of that rodent in my belly. Hunger
is a bitch.
I could sit here and blame God for my circumstances, for
the pains, the seeming minus in the abundance I don't have
the proper opportunity to enjoy. But God just happens to be
the one who slips me the meal at the odd hour, saying, "Be
strong, you're proving my point."
My son eats very well, every meal, every day, and that
makes me stronger. He grows and grows, and although I don't
get to see him, at least I can see a picture of him from
time to time. I miss him terribly.
At least in his youth he does not feel what I feel, have
to maintain the war I do, the inner conflict, the outer
struggle, the whole of what being a celestial test is built
on. Should I have "taken the blue pill?"
I talk about being a Christian, and so few truly know what
that entails. They ask me stupid questions about what
church do I go to, and I should say the one that has
ignored my very existence for the past month. They don't
understand when I say that I AM the church. In short, I am
a Jesus Freak, and there is no denying that.
I don't wear a cloth, I don't deal with all of the ritual
bullshit that the world of men has placed on a rigor of
aesthetics, which is what this truly is. I think of Job
frequently and know that even Christ had his period of
starvation, the time of drought, various moments of
dispair. Faith is a matter of aesthetics as well. I realize
that I couldn't die if I wanted to. I can't do that until
my time comes. And that will be a while. The life of a
soldier, one that I know all too well.
I stopped with some change for a cup of coffee and the
cheapest thing on the menu, about two dollars. A Latin
fellow dropped a nickel on the floor and searched for it
with a wild look like he'd lost his child. I am all too
familiar with that look, frantic desperation. I stomped on
the nickel and handed him a quarter, and said,"Whosoever
will save his life will lose it. Whosoever will lose his
life for my sake shall find it. What is a man to profit if
he gains the whole world but loses his own soul? Love your
neighbor as yourself."
The next thought was, "Where did THAT come from?" I
honestly could not say. I felt self-concious and freakish.
He looked at the quarter, then me, then back; I could see
what I just said sink in. He spoke English. He gave me a
big childish grin set behind his moustache and as his eyes
lit, said,"Thank you," with virtually perfect diction.
My life is strange. I realize the force in my life, in my
being. I actually feel the divisions now- body, soul, and
spirit. Many that wear the title of christian by fianagled
means display the level of their turpitude.
Half the population thinks I should act like the Church
Lady, and the other half is pissed off that I don't. But
this isn't their situation, their journey, their battle,
it's mine. And my example wasn't a dick about how other
people lived their lives. He just said that there is only
two rules in the rulebook; Love God completely, and in
that, love your neighbor as yourself, INCLUDING enemies,
and the guy that cut you off on the freeway and slipped you
the finger. Harder than it sounds, but highly possible.
Being able to blossom with my work is another very good
thing right now. Going back to my old hacker ethic of doing
a wonderful thing for free (mostly) is very nice. The CD is
coming along nicely, with a bulk of the work happening
between 1-5am. Sound familiar, Katie?
Meeting other artists has been another booster. So many
poets, musicians, writers. I have another friend who is a
jazz musician, and he gave me a tape "In The Zone" which I
have found very nice and palatable. I got a few new tracks
for the CD from Eric Hester, and I am working on most of
the liner notes tonight.
My gut still aches, but at least my spirit soars a little
higher. I am certainly a recuperating eagle. Having a true
spiritual relationship, being a Cherokee, and being a
Taurus makes a very interesting resolute constitution, let
me tell you.
But my enemy awaits at the gate, banging his weaponry,
clanging his armor, wanting a fight. Trying to hit me when
I'm down, pick at me when I might be deemed weak, testing
my strengths and abilities, as well as my willpower. He's
the disgruntled employee, I'm an eternal stockholder. Big
difference. I won't be stopped. My art will escape my mind
and find itself on paper, on shelves, in CD racks, into the
ear of the world. I am a King of the Earth, for a moment, a
Swordbearer of my Master. Survival is a card I hold tightly
to my chest.

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