What is easier? I have an old habit of placing a large Lama wool sweater, much cheaper
and bulkier than the Irish, back on top of another. Just as lumpy. It never fails, the first one always brings the resting one down on my heels. I have been doing this for twenty years now, but it has become a ritual of much comfort and satisfaction. In homage to Loki, the Norse Scandinavian trickster God. Even
though it pushes me far past the reaches of the most cunning aquatic Chinese expert in the act of pain can ever devise. So what keeps me from taking the extra time to clean the shelf off and try something new by placing them alongside each other on the bottom or the top of the other heavy New England gear?
What would be harder to do? Plan and act consciously. Engage the time needy by choice to arrange a new way of doing things. Or keep wearing the worn out loafers that became my trusted friend. Even at the increase of my bunions and woes?
To borrow from Kurt Vonnegut, but sort of different? I will use his terms of Karrass and Granfalloons, loosely though to tell only a small white foma. For arguments sake, lets assume that a Karrass is when nature finds its natural path through its journey of motion to rest and back again. Granfalloons are what seems to be easy in the moment to facilitate the journey. For even though you are traveling even faster, it does not necessarily mean you are on the right road?
Before I go into the next part of this unstructured essay; I have a small story;
A small bird once fell out of its nest into a pile of fox poo. Even though he fell from a great distance, the poo cushioned his fall. Kept him warm. Gave him comfort. The small bird spied the fox returning and chirped for his kind assistance. The Fox bent down and pulled the small bird out by the scruff. Jerked his head and swallowed him down.So what is the moral of this tale: If you find yourself fallen from a great height. Be appreciative if you are warm and safe. For those who are willing to bring you back up to the same bough that snapped, might not be doing you any favors.
Granfalloons. Some fomas act as a band aid. They keep your mind clean and unasssailed for a period. But without the access of the spirit of the air, it never closes or heals. It just is soggy. Sometimes the foma is the prodigal son. Who says being late for work is a bad thing, it could of made you check your watch in a hurry as the pick pocket passed unnoticed. But any foma kept too long is like two day old skin on the eczema scalp. But the Granfalloons sell you the same leaky pot they steal back from you in the night. They carry it back to the well empty. Because it was empty by the time you entered the house. For the waters of life still run deep within you. For the even the good pot is a foma. The best and final water carrier is through the mouth. Just be lucky. If some one was watching out for you, there might be flowers from the path of your leaky cauldron. That is if the Granfalloon did not step on them in the dark.
Once at Docspond, a whirlpool formed from a crack in the side of the tunnel. I watched twigs twirl about. Then sucked down in a furry. Why? Because it was the least path of resistance. The molecules before it gave up their seat in a hurry. Only natural thing was to fill it quick and shoot past the singularity out the other side. At which point it follows the most desired path of water, up! For when water is in streams it desires to rise. When in clouds, to fall. In this process it will move balloons and mountains. For what is a black hole anyway.
When friction is removed, it is not always the best proponent of motion. For when you are sailing down the ski slope at maddening speeds, has your risk of injury increased. So is the snow and slope only enabling at best? Is it displacement only? Friction of the wind increases.
Is the way of your life like the space ship. As it approaches the speed of light, created an increasing proportion of friction. Now how do you remove the space in front of. To open the draw bridge? Quantum Physics is the science based on quantitative study of parts and motions of something no one has ever touched, seen, heard, or smelled, But the atom does exist and has done dreadful things in the name of peace. The power within. Is that the new science? If new, has it been here since the beginning? Like the line in a whore house, it moves quickly. Chain reactions are the emptying of a space that quantum parts sense as a relief from the pressure that assails it in all other direction. Even if the rest is infinitesimal Like air feeling the pressure of elastic, upon it, flies out with the smallest of pin holes.
So how do you remove the friction from your life? It starts within. The belief you want it and deserve it. In knowing it already happened. Which at that point it is for you to only sit in the back of the bus. Granted you still had to work a forty hour week to earn wages to pay for the Greyhound. It might not be comfortable, but as long as you stay aboard, it gets you to the place you had paid for in advance.
If you get off, it is a long walk back to the place you hang your hat. And it might not be home. But you can always work another week to take the journey again. This time finish it for their is allot of Granfalloons who would like to see you stop midway to pay them again.
Now animals are smarter. Stick a set of reindeer horns on a dog. It will try to take them off as fast as it can. What keeps yours on. Lust? Is five years of loneliness alone less than fifty years of a cold bed and heart? Where lies the foma? Six month of unemployment or forty years of an unanswered life of why you get out of bed at all? Only thing quicker than a line in a whore house is the speed of the pink slip after Christmas. So why do you wear those silly things?
Is the quick cut of the knife worse than the three years of death that follow the untreated cancer?
So I find myself going to the shelf to prepare a place for the sweaters when I return them from the dry cleaners. My first new pair of Reeboks in two years arrived today. Mrs. Fox next door is doing better with her Cancer. They say she can get of the Chemo and she got to see the Florida Keys and found time outside work. She was pulled through the ringer to that singularity and spit
back out. But she was spit back out into the waters of life. Even though she could not stay away from the work that was killing her, bag at her side and all. She still felt she had to be at work to be anyone. Small things she never seen or knew existed within her was killing her until they were examined. Can she get those things from within to shine on the x-ray? For what is within you can kill you or save you. Now if you choose not to let something beyond yourself to carry you through, do you just jump the bus. The road back to this point in the next life is a long one. But many die of thirst as the palms of the oasis is just on the horizon. Can she find a reason to drink the waters of life, or does she find a thief in the night scampering away with her pot.
I am just glad I had to deal with two shaved Lamas...
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