Parable of the Playground

THE PLAYGROUND
A Parable About Life and Death

…I awoke to find myself walking hand-in-hand with the Mother-of-Us-All toward a beautiful Playground, a playground that seemed to stretch to infinity. She brought me to the gate, gave me a big hug and a kiss, and said unto me,”This is your playground, do as thou wilt, and have a good time.”I nervously walked through the gates, and was amazed at all the sights and sounds. There were monkey bars, slides, toys, sprinklers, and all types of fun goodies, as far as the eyes can see. There were also many, many children of all different shapes and sizes playing throughout the Playground.
I explored my surroundings for a while, and made a few friends. All around me children were playing and doing many things (as children are want to do). Some children played by themselves, and some played with many kids. Some only had one or two playmates, and some had none. There were even a few who didn’t want to play at all, and said that playing was bad. Sometime some of the kids would steal the toys from the other kids, and others would hog all the toys around them. Some even shared their toys with others.
All around me, children were running and jumping, laughing and singing, loving and fighting. Some kids would stay in the playground for a while, and some had to leave as soon as they got there. Sometimes fights would break out amongst the children, often for silly reasons. Some children had too many toys to play with, and some had none. Some of the kids would section off a part of a playground, and wouldn’t let any one else play there. Bullies would roam the park picking on the weaker kids. Many games were played in the playground. Some of the games were: cops and robbers, war, hospital, convert the heathens, feed the poor, get a good job, etc.
I noticed a bunch of kids in the middle of a heated discussion, so I decided to see what was going on. I discovered that the children were discussing the nature of the playground. Some children said that this is the only playground there is, while others said there are an infinite amount of playgrounds. Some argued that this section of the playground was the only section to have children playing, and others say that there are many sections with many children in it. Some say that when you leave the playground you never come back, and some say that you come back over and over again. I didn’t get involve in that discussion, because I knew better.
In another discussion pool, the kids were talking about the Mother-of-Us-All. Some said she didn’t exist, some said she did. A few of the kids believed that there was no Mother-of-Us-All, only the Father existed. Some believed that there were many Mothers and Fathers. And some of us believed that She is All-in-One, and One-in-All. There were kids who said that if you do not play the way they said that Mother/Father wants you to play, you will go to a very, very BAD place when you leave the playground. I found a few who truly loved the Mother, and said to them,”hey guys, lets just play”.
Every once in a while Mother would call out the name of a child and tell them it was time to go home. Some children would scream and cry and throw temper tantrums, but to no avail. When Mom said it was time to go, it was time to go. I decided to really enjoy my stay in the playground. I played with many kids, had many adventures, had run-ins with bullies, scraped my knees a few times, and generally had the time of my life. After a while, I grew very tired and sleepy, and I knew it was soon time for Mother to call my name. I put my toys away, and called all my playmates together for one last game of tag. When the game ended, I heard Mother call my name. I bid my playmates farewell, and told them not to cry, we will all play together again someday. I ran out of the park and into Mothers waiting arms. I placed my head on her bosom and said “Thank you Mom, I had a great time in the Playground”. She just smiled at me gave me a kiss on the forehead, and I fell asleep in her arms.
I awoke to find myself walking hand-in-hand with the Mother-of-Us-All toward a beautiful Playground,a playground that seemed to stretch to infinity….

Tauha 2

I don’t want to seem ungrateful for what I do have, and I am concerned with maintaining the good I do have in my life. Yet, the lessons of my life seem to be that I just lose what I invest in. It is at this point, as if I never went to school, never sang, never tried to do anything. The universe quickly kills what I put energy into, what I love, even the notion of “doing what I am supposed to be doing” is no comfort. Sometimes I think it will follow through what it has begun and mow me down in some random and stupid event. I used to define who I was in terms of these goals I had: Oh, I am important because I have this world-class voice. Oh, I am important because of some masterwork, or the aspiration to create a masterwork, or because of what I will do when I have money….etc. Crap. Nothing of this nature will stay the stark fist of removal, as the subgenii might say. Sometimes all I can do is just kiss the joy as it flies, kiss the sky. I am still thankful for those moments, I haven’t forgotten them. I will never see them as routine.
In the final analysis, I may have to discard even the idea of a legacy, even the notion of striving to achieve something lasting, something permanent, some irrevocable change. Faust has nothing on me.

Tauha

Butler says in his book “From where you Dream” that desire drives the characters which drives the plot. I can construct their wants, I can understand them, but as for myself, it seems to be a different story. My goals, my little projects, I enjoy them, I enjoy working on them, but something seems off. Nothing seems wrong, or missing, just off. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but its possible that I may have cleared the slate nearly completely. My writing, I control it completely, I put in some time on it each day, but I don’t have a sense of urgency about it. I just write. I am on the outside looking in at it seems almost everything. I run through the motions of jobsearching, but that has become a joke to me. I may be close to something transcendent if I can just let this nearly blank slate of my life fill with the present moment, but that doesn’t seem to be too much of a problem. Yet, it doesn’t seem to have the same immediacy as it did when I was say, 22, and there were things of pressing import to be done every second, my little universe seemed to be the universe. Maybe adulthood is the realization of being just a speck in the vastness, but that is a cliche too. There are things of import, and I don’t feel as if I take them for granted, but they seem taken care of. I could be wrong, but there even seems a little distance there also, if I think about it, it seems dangerous, as if I am tempting more loss. I think its a result of my recent losses, this existential slack. The supreme slack. Maybe I have given up on investing in things.

Life Coaching part 2

So, what coaching has helped me focus on is where my time is being spent, what goals I have, and how I hold myself accountable for moving towards them. She has helped me to focus on my writing projects, which are topmost on my unfinished list. Committing to finishing my writing is much more difficult than I had expected, and I think it was a good choice as a result. The rubber is starting to meet the road and I need to put my head down and push. I have a deadline, the best thing for holding myself accountable and its starting to help motivate me. I cannot go back without solid results, that embarrassing possibility is more painful than the task of staring at a blank page. I would say at this point that I am a little bit behind in the writing, but I will catch up.

So- I made the choice to move from a generic humor novel to a mystery novel, thinking that it would help me solve some plot problems, a choice that has created as many problems as it has resolved. Sure, you end up with some good characters, but then you have to answer all the questions related to the dead body. I think its easier in the short run to just write driven from my premise, but in the long run, having the mystery genre will help me get over the midpoint hump faster. I am starting to think about it all the time, so even if I am not actually writing, I am now obsessing about what I am going to write. I am not convinced it will help me finish faster, but some degree of frustration is helpful.

Life Coaching part 1

I just starting working with a great life-coach, she is helping me out tremendously. I got two free sessions as a Christmas gift and I am paying the third. Money well spent. I figured out a number of different things about my life, where my priorities are, where they aren’t. Progress is happening. I learned that my Maslowian tasks as an adult have been to:

1) Love myself
2) Love my life
3) Love another person

Everything else is details, which at this point for me concern money issues and my legacy. The biggest thing I’ve learned about money is that if you don’t need to spend a lot on an artificial and not always fulfilling consumerist lifestyle, you don’t have to bring in much to support it. Money I believe is a concern for nearly everyone, and I like what money can do, yet I won’t let it enslave me. I am primarily an intellectual and spiritual person, and this type of focus is not particularly expensive. I spend a lot on books and get a lot of value out of them. The thing I will learn to do is spend money to earn money and buy time with it, with passive income paying bills, that gives me the ability to do as I please… very few people I know can claim to do that with truth.

Interloper

A Naked Bee of Surprise:
heavy droner, yellow-striped,
unexpectedly indoors
sailing serenely
slightly indolent, indifferently eyed
loops horizontally, touches down-
grace and gravitas meet gravity.
He inspects the table, bumble-wise.
Subtle communication passes between us,
Undeserving of splattery death,
he gently takes the proferred paper
clinging with assiduous legs
(seemingly too dainty to support his tubular bulk!)
then regally escorted out the door
to resume his delicate, solicitous floral office
in the wide outside.