in *hey* i attempt to wake from the ai slumber party
I want to be on fire with you.
Alone, I tend to burn myself up, bore myself, run out of things to talk about. So, I write. I’ve been writing too much. I think your inclusion in the carnival of happiness would be beneficial to us both. Won’t you give us a try?
I also want to be away from myself. In this small town somewhere else. Raining. Waiting for my first cuppa crappy diner coffee and perfect over-easy with a crispy side of bacon. Because bacon makes everything better.
That was my mom’s legacy as well. She taught us how to eat our feelings. Dessert. Southern comfort foods, garlic cheese grits, chicken and dumpling soup, rump roast simmering in the oven all day. Mom. Now, mostly loves on me in the mornings. When I’m writing about her (Hi, Mom.) or playing in my front yard garden. The one she gave me. Sometimes, people are ready to transform back into stardust. We, the living around them, may not be ready for them to evolve, but it’s not up to us.
My best-best friend at the moment is going through some tough transitions. A long-time prostate cancer warrior, the little black specs migrated to his liver, and according to the internet, that’s a short walk off the last pier. He’s starting to have lunches with people he hasn’t seen in years. He’s keeping his spirits up for those around him. For me.
We are doing a project together, Wakeup Grandpa! LINK He’s telling a few jokes, a few haiku. A few surprising haikus about questionable subjects. I’m even in the thing, but as the antagonist or producer behind the iPhone viewfinder.
Losing those we love along the way is the price of survival. It sucks. Sometimes, we might ask ourselves, is it worth it, if this person is gone? Maybe I should join them.
The fact is, what we know about death and any afterlife fantasies are mostly written by religious folk who are pushing their agenda. Even Jung got a little far out there at towards the end of his life, with alchemy and all that. But he got *god* in my opinion. Maybe not for the Jesus people, but for the seekers and contemplatives, Jung’s collective unconscious comes as close to mapping heaven, god, and the mechanics of the universe as any human has articulated.
Taking it a step further, in Slaughterhouse Five, Mr. Vonnegut introduced the concept of *all time at once.* Our human experience is merely our birth > life > death path along this part of the cosmic experience of being human. Like Jesus, souls are reborn down on Earth to express joy and love. To find creative happiness. Some will fall into bad crowds and bad habits. This god is less of an arbiter and referee, more of an “Ah, see what amazing things are happening.” For a human, the rest of the declaration is, “across time.” For someone on the spirit side there is only the canopy that ranges from amazing magic to dark tragedy, all in motion and unfolding at once, in toto, complete, all, god.
God is all at once.
God hears the prayers in our real time, what we call our human lifetime. Imagine if she/he/god had to actually bless or damn every single little league baseball team beginning a game across the entire planet at the second. And this second. And this one. All the fans inside the Super Bowl, praying for their miracle, their team, their win. Does god pick sides? Would the universe pick sides? Seems to me, the small creature crawls out of the sea to be eaten by a bird swooping down from above the sea, all in some cosmic dance that has no feelings for or against the growth and wishes of the seagull. Johnathon Livingston Seagul.
God is indifferent to human suffering. Sorry. The universe doesn’t hear your cry for help. God does not have a response for your pain.
The good news is this: another human just might be the answer. A human who listens without judgment. Someone else who can hold your story with you, beside you, asking for nothing but time and patience. “Yes, I see you. I hear your dismay.”
The powerful part is when that person also understands that listening, holding, and being quiet are the healing vibes we need from our partner. How can we listen to our dying friend? What words of support and caring do we offer? How are we still needing them to show us the way? Even as he is frustratingly aware of his drooping energy, he remains cheerful and less optimistic with each new diagnosis.
“Two weeks,” he says. That’s how long until the biopsy appointment. Before they can really tell him jack about his condition and predicted flight path to the final wormhole.
Fire and exit.
In my lucky lifetime, I have known great love. Great sadness and loss. Through the patterns of my repeating life, I have begun to get some understanding of the flight controls. My own ship, my own issues, my own mind. Those are my lessons. And learning that I can’t fix my father. Can’t get my mother to start painting again. Can’t make my lover any happier or more content. I can’t do much outside of the words and actions I use to dance through my own life.
I have tried magic tricks, scoring touchdowns in 3rd grade, standing on the front of the stage at the post-lunch performance of Le Burgermeister. I have seen the best, been the best, celebrated among my peers. I have had my moment, at least a few times in my hopeful life. I am still hopeful. Still seeking a copilot who also understands the mission. Focus on yourself and your own peace, love, and understanding. Happiness once established inside a human is hard to put out. Burn brightly with all the hope and radiance you can muster. Sure, be the one everyone asks, “Can you bring your voice down a little?”
My dying best friend adjusts his hearing aids when I arrive and the cat runs to the back of the house. Nigel is curious about my dark and booming song. I think of it as singing. I do know how to modulate my volume and intensity. Mostly, I use it for dramatic effect. I’ve always been told I was too loud.
Guess what? I am loud.
I am also quiet. Listening for you. Seeking you. Pausing on my inner bliss transmissions… Pausing my own internal monologue. Pausing… Listening… Not passively waiting. Seeking. Seeking by being illuminated from within by my own radiance. I am a joyous person. When two of us meet it’s a wonderful chemistry of sparks, flames, and hot spots of pleasure and pain. Both sides of the yin-yang balance will be in play. Love so much about them. Terrified by some aspects I don’t understand.
As we drift into each other’s orbit, we learn about alignments. Misalignments. We exchange information from our own user manuals. We arrange docking procedures. We ask… We listen… We kiss…
Before we attempt further entanglements, it is best to perform a few crosschecks. Abused? No. Takes responsibility for their part in the failures of the past? Also, no. Hmm. Let’s proceed. Ability to maintain eye contact and presence during deep conversations? Yes. A good kisser? Marginal, but picking up the style with enthusiasm and creativity of her own.
Enough of that distraction. She is no longer aboard the ship. Comms have been cut.
At this moment. In my human life. I am back in stasis. Comfortable and joyful alone. A pleasant soundtrack hinting at the next journey out and away.
{soundtrack.patrick.o.hearn>slow.time}
If you noticed in Blade Runner, so much of the mood and sadness was driven by the Vangelis soundtrack. Begin building soundtracks for your own movie. There are Sex Pistols moments, yes, but make sure you also give time to Brian Eno and friends. Orchestral music to lubricate your own internal thoughts. Sound, music, and time provide an opportunity for you to slow down your thinking, ponder deep things, make plans for what you want, what you need, and what is “nice to have” but unnecessary for survival.
It’s a long trip ahead. The yaw of deep space calls. A copilot would be nice, but is it worth delaying departure?
{soundtrack.brian.eno>always.returning.apollo}
Drift into the bed of sound and thoughts floating in your mind. Ask one question, “What is most important?” Over and over. Ask. Listen. The answer (when it comes) will not be abstract or ambivalent. You are not striking out for a new shore before you understand the goal. You can’t. Reaching for your higher goal, you can redirect the distractions and meanderings of your own mind and time.
Don’t waste a minute of your human life. Find the lover. Establish the beloved partnership. Evolve into one love. Share your love with others. Be love. Show love. Find the love within yourself that wants but does not need. Craves but can survive Desert Solitaire. I want to play chess with someone. Spades and Rummy 500 as we pass through the belt of Orion.
I am looking. Sending up random blips of bright light into the sky both day and night. I am listening. Returning signals are nonexistent. Space is large. My time as a human is limited. Load all the remaining fuel, begin the startup sequence. Check all scans for signs of life.
Paused near the entrance.
*wakeup granpa comedy – a diversion
back to *HEY* index
The Cloud Pilots episode expanding on this chapter.
