Dear Pretty Lady,
One can also consider not collapsing inwards just because the outwards doesn't live up, for we are inexplicably in some sort of ongoing sweaty tango that pushes and pulls with the beats of our individuality.
And following that, there is also always the very best efforts of tantra, so-called, to turn to, or listen to, as human, of course, as it still is, that involve the incredible miracle of the form before the former (as you have said, is that not enough for one willing initiation?), thus no need for fantasy or whips, plus as you have said, "are they not already there?" (well, you din't actually say that).
And then perhaps include a deep yet whimsical and ongoing rhythmic meditation, contemplation, exaltation on what we may and may not be, as you so delightfully suggested in the fantasmically perfect response you gave to the Sam Harris/Dennis Prager debate, about lovley Sammy's boobsession with being soul-y the body, which had me laughing out loud and—in the way of the cosmos, and the interface of silly screens and screams—led me here to your wit.
And for the record, be that record vinyl or god knows what, the actual dance of not collapsing fully inwards or outwards is perhaps a reflection of that universal tantra, so-called, ongoing, unstoppable, spinning a beautiful rock around a giant ball of fire to who knows where...?
But back to the original synapse firing, when the tension deflates or inflates too far, for example from too much messiness (as you describe it), people perhaps then start desperately tying other people up to bring that miraculous tension of the body/soul life-force journey back to a workable passion.
Then again, who knows?
I have no idea what I just wrote and I know I should read it over, but I'm not going to becuase I am haphazard and crazy today, and I blame it on your exquisite song of words that activates such an unavoidable stream of unconscious consciousness, and reminds us poor souls to play, you flea-bitten varmits, play!
Having said that, I do wonder if Sam Harris and Dennis Prager secretly love each other. I think they'd have a decent tension, if they practiced retaining, but perhaps that is too specific for your dear readers.
I ask that because I love them, and I love you too, as you dastardly (is that word?) keep your very own interdependent sacred tantra-tension alive by refusing to abandon the amazing truth and wonder of your sat, chit and ananda to the utter madness, joy, absurdity, decay, pain, rotting, dreaming, loving, giving, hoping surrending, helplessness of it all.
Petexoxoxoxoxo
Dear Pete,
Pretty Lady has this strange sort of feeling that she's met you somewhere before. Was it by the keg at the...no, did you send her that twelve-page email that almost got you...no, it was the eighteen postcards from Eur...no, the Buddhist monas...the professional poker...the graduate composer who had the nervous...never mind.
Seriously, never mind.
Ever since Pretty Lady first started noodling around with the primitive e-mail system at her work-study job, back in the Dark Ages, she has, seemingly, inspired the copious and many-authored composition of poetic, unrestrained, undisciplined missives such as this one. In latter years, she has been wondering if she ought to specialize. To wit:
Are you Brilliant?
Are you Misunderstood?
Are you in the Throes of a Spiritual Emergency???
(If you are unfamiliar with the term 'Spiritual Emergency,' this does not mean you are not suffering from one. See above letter for points of reference; if you find yourself on the point of composing such a thing, if it makes some sense to you, if it seems to articulate some inchoate and undefined sensation, niggling at the corners of your brain, you may qualify.)
Well! Then you may sign up for a Correspondence Course with Pretty Lady, your stringent but gentle guide through the treacherous shoals of Consciousness Expansion, without the unfortunate Slitting of Wrists or Torching of Valuable Relationships!
Merely fill out this form, including height, weight, age, education, IQ, exercise program, physical illnesses, mental illnesses, family history, financial assets, intellectual assets, vehicular assets, skills, talents, talents you wish you had but don't, sexual fantasies, astrological chart, and elementary school report card.
Once you have passed Pretty Lady's security check and almost-sanity test, the cost of this course is a low-low-low $59.95 a week, plus taxes, to include at least three specific, pointed, practical admonishings, written in a sprightly and engaging style, geared to your own particular charming but undisciplined needs. Phone calls extra; in-person visits are absolutely verboten.
Once you are enrolled, you are not permitted to quit until Pretty Lady fires you. Which--do not panic--she is certain to do, sooner or later.
What do you think, darlings? Is this a workable business plan?
Oh, and Pete, dear, I love you too.
25 comments:
Wow!
You get those often?
Do you have security, or just an active guardian angel? Oh, I'm sure he isn't dangerous, I'm just teasing, mostly.
At first I thought something was wrong with me. I was not getting anything from that whatsoever. I stopped reading at some point because my mind just pulled the plug, too much psychic white noise.
I will admit this though, how you present yourself and the world you see is definitely magical. I won't say I am "turned on" by you, but I am attracted and swayed to who you seem to be. Not saying that I couldn't be interested, just that I would, if anything, prefer to be in a friendly association (as is?). Perhaps if closer in proximity, an actual friend. Just saying, there is something to the rythmic cadence and structure of how you present that is stunning.
I talk too much.
Thanks, Doom. I think that was what Pete was trying to say, too, and I hope that if he's reading this, he understands that I'm teasing. ;-)
Yes, I am afraid I DO get these sorts of things often, and what's worse, I understand them. They're a symptom of an overactive creative intellect, coupled with a lack of grounding.
I probably attract them because, for all its flights of outrageous fancy, my creative intellect IS grounded. Thus I draw the minds in need of tethering.
The effect is the psychic equivalent of thrusting one's lower lip out and rhythmically thwipping it with one's index finger, while intoning, to wit:
"Buh buh buh buh..."
Hey, quit shoving! There's room enough for all us infatuated loons up on this perch.
hehehehe desert cat, your interpetation is astounding. Your self-awareness is quite nicely played as well.
But, I am NOT a loon. More like a lark, if pursuing a place on the branch. No kidding.
Pretty Lady,
I think Crom hit on something too. There is a healing balm wrapped in the nature of your song, and my guess would be it imbues your person too. I've read some of your archives and realize you can heal or harm. Though it seems that you prefer beauty, peace, and healing when the option is left open.
My beloveds,
It was purely an unabashed compliment—alas missed—inspired firstly by your wonderful comment on Sam Harris, which most would have thought an undisciplined missive (but definitely not me—I loved it).
I knew I should have read over what I wrote. Double drat. There is some saying about brevity that I always forget.
And it wasn't at the keg, being a plankton-eater (thus, highly un-dangerous). And I didn't send a twelve page letter, although you're worth it, clearly. I think, hmm, I'm not sure...maybe you work with my lover...
Truth is, I'm not even American. This is my only ever American experience:
http://www.petemccormack.com/music/understanding_kenlive.mp3
Am I brilliant, and I misunderstood, am I in the throes of a spiritual emergency?
Aw, shucks, I don't know...I just hurt a lot inside.
Sorry if any offense was taking. Keep writing with that gorgeous wit.
Love and more love, and wishing all of you unbridled adoration, pleasure and reverence in the exploration, as Pretty Lady said, of that which we are not.
Uh oh, I'm having another breakdown!
Pete
Ah, Pete, now that was both classy and charming. ;-)
My goal is to sidle into your Correspondence Course without having to pay by not seeming to need it and yet drawing it out of you.
Are you Brilliant?
Are you Misunderstood?
Are you in the Throes of a Spiritual Emergency???
What if I am none of the above?
In fact, what if I am overly grounded, and so utterly satisfied with my spirituality that I tentatively could be described as beatific?
Brilliant? I have met some people whose intellect far exceeds my own, and I would reserve that label for them. Intelligence, in my opinion - is not the sum of facts, rather intelligence is measured by the subject's ability to utilize available data sets to the fullest extent. It's the quality of the processing of the information that defines intelligence, not simply being in the possession of a large amount of data. Socrates reminds us that understanding how little we actually know is the first step towards real knowledge and understanding.
Misunderstood? Heh. Point me towards someone who is understood all of the time, and I will show you the dullest, greyest and least interesting person on the planet. I pray that I will always contain depths that puzzle and intrigue, and that I remain unpredictable and original.
Upon reflection, I guess I could have a crisis over the fact that I lack crises. But... I don't want to pay $59.95 a week to have someone tell me to shut the f--- up when I can certainly get that from anyone on the streets of Houston, or everyone on the streets of New York for free.
;-D
Crom
Ah, well. You see, the problem with Pretty Lady's business plan is that the misunderstood geniuses are all either broke, or in denial. Also that Pretty Lady is easy to manipulate into working for free.
And you must understand, Crom, that this proposed advertising copy is not geared so much toward the actual facts of the situation, but rather to the target market's perception of those facts. Thus increasing the potential client base by an order of magnitude, since the subjective perception of genius far outweighs its objective presence within any group of people.
"...this proposed advertising copy is not geared so much toward the actual facts of the situation, but rather to the target market's perception of those facts...
I am shocked, SHOCKED I tell you to realize that you would intentionally prey upon the hysterical public with low self-esteem who would subconsciously project themselves into this destructive paradigm simply to relieve them of their fiscal earnings. Demographically speaking, this nefarious sales pitch would draw everyone who regularly watches "Desperate Housewives" to those wretched souls who have purchased any body-toning exercise gear from either Suzanne Somers or Chuck Norris.
Mix in some subliminal suggestions into a mandala painting as the cover artwork, add some involuntary trance induction phrasing below 20 Hz for the cassettes, and chuckle darkly as the bucks come rolling in.
Damn. You haven't copyrighted this yet, have you?
=D
Crom
Don't worry, Crom, I'm probably too lazy to follow through.
But I'd be GOOD for people! Mostly! Honest!
;-)
"Understand, dear Lady, I would use this Idea from a desire to do good. But through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine."
Crom
Hey, I watch Desperate Housewives! Only because my wife makes me, but...
It's not a bad show, really.
Um.
Actually we have a nice little group session going already, don't we? *laughs* Chris gets a little edgy about his "place on the perch" occassionally, but. hehe He watches "Desperate Housewives to make up for it though!
I don't know about everyone else, but for the three qualifiers... genius, misunderstood, and spiritually confused... As far as genius, I've gotten to where I realize I can't know, so went in that direction rather than going on to wealth (and probably misery). That covers the misunderstood part aptly, I think? Though, it also took care of the spiritual angst. Hmmm, 2 out of three (or just 1 out of 3 depending on how you feel about the genius answer, which might lead to a nixing of the misunderstood part too?). Still, I think I'm in the right group.
Okay! So we've established that no one in this group qualifies for Pretty Lady's advice, ministrations or whatnot, except possibly Chris. So what are you all doing here?
I don't watch much television.
I never watch sitcoms. Why, you may ask? Laugh tracks. If the producers think me so stupid that I cannot glean the humor from their excremental plotline without the assistance from a fake studio audience, then I won't watch their show. Very simple, end of story.
I have too much self-respect to be subjugated by a television.
And Doom, I must strenuously disagree. I do not view my time here as some disembodied AA meeting where the freaks and the antelopes play, nor do I count myself among the dysfunctional. I come here for the originality, the panache, the wit and subtle wordsmithing that Pretty Lady displays in her writing. I read things here that I make me think, and ofttimes research. I do not see PL as the pshrink to the literate Fallen, but rather as the clever tour guide who shows you the hidden delights that are normally invisible to the tourists. To me, Pretty Lady is a crystal tumbler of absinthe, not a warm mug of milk on a sleepless night.
Crom
Urhm, isn't it possible with time and place realities that if you have been somewhere, perhaps some aspect of you is always there? Beyond, can you ever truly not be where you were, wouldn't it negate some of who you are? If so, then I qualify.
And even a strong creature needs respite. Your place is warm, welcome, healing, and pleasant, yet seemingly real. What is to ponder? Besides, does your healing and gifting have to be one way?
*laughing* I might be "full of it" or not, but I like to think I am sincere. I try to be.
Crom,
I yield, in full measure. My second paragraph might be more to your sensabilities, if not exact.
I was playing, to some extent, with the therapy thing.
Crom, have you ever thought that the TV is not telling you when to laugh as much as it's trying to convince you something is funny? Research has proven that humans will laugh more if other nearby humans are laughing. So they're not pointing out the jokes because they think you won't get them, they're pointing out the jokes because they're so pathetic you won't laugh without help. Laugh tracks aren't about how dumb you are, they're about how dumb TV writers are. And TV writers are dumb.
My favorite shows don't have laugh tracks. Some good shows have had laugh tracks. Some bad shows haven't.
If it was entirely up to me, I'd probably forget to watch most TV. But my wife uses the TV as her "wind down" time after the kids go to bed, so our ritual is to sit in front of the glass teat and watch something stupid on the TiVo before retiring. It's not the best of all possible worlds, but it's better than poking each other with sharp sticks.
Oh, and:
I am not brilliant. I am not misunderstood. And I am not in the throes of a spiritual emergency. I'm just in need of mothering. I need someone to clap and say gleefully, "Look who went poopie!"
I am in the Throes of laughter!
So what are you all doing here?
Breadcrumbs m'lady. Glorious breadcrumbs. Like shimmering jewels of light on the pavement they are.
And everything Doom said way up at the top.
Genius, check.
Misunderstood, check.
In a "spiritual emergency"? I confess I still don't quite grok that.
In a "spiritual emergency"? I confess I still don't quite grok that.
Liar. Any reader of Carlos Castaneda has no excuse for that remark. Plus, you've obviously been through yours years ago, if not decades. Pretty Lady regards you as a Genuine Peer, not a wannabe.
Oh, and Chris, did you do your exercises today?
Oh, and Chris, did you do your exercises today?
Not today. But I did go poopie.
I am not going to say it. I am sitting on my hands. Not, not, not, not, not going to say it. No way. Uh-uh. Not me.
Oh, look who went poopie!
Drat.
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