Well, as I understand it you’ve all had your noses bloodied a bit in this life, as have I. Count your blessings as we only feel the wrath of human existence for a little humility now and then. The pit you’ve been dropped into is a deep one, yes. I've been there myself and carved my name on its wall so you'd know you're not the first one down. If you're having trouble keeping your head above the sewage, don't worry, it won’t get any deeper than you can stand on your tippy toes.Now, I don't give a hoot about scripture, and I assure you I'm no weak-kneed preacher offering candy floss compresses to dress your wounds. But I'll quote one of the useful passages I've found in yon bible.
"...and God looked upon all that he had made and behold, it was VERY good..."
Do ya hear that? It was VERY good. That includes you and all that makes up your personality. It includes all the emotions we've been programmed to suppress. Like anger. Show a little now and then to the Universe, they won't mind. If you're out of line they’re not likely to pay much attention, but you’ll feel better for a bit by blowing your stack. If you're not up to talking to them direct, tell your spirit guide to take a message up if ya like. I hear they're pretty cozy, these earth angels and the ones on high. Do ya know your spirit, by the way? Mine's name is Jesse. I told him/her/it that as long as he was taggin' along I might as well call him something, and Jesse seemed apt for either male or female. So, until I hear different, it's Jesse I chat with when I need to convey my displeasure to the deity, which is pretty much a daily occurrence.
Which brings us to the next topic; prayer. I'll have none of it. Since I chose this life and the cesspit in which to live it, then I've got nothing to say to the ones who convinced me that coming here might be a dandy idea. I selected the trials and I'll face them alone. Oh, I've asked for help from time to time, and the Grand Duke has appeared when I want him, but all he seems content to do is lounge in a recliner with his nose in a book while I'm trying to shovel my way through the latest pile of horse manure that’s been conveniently dropped in my path. I've glared at him pretty angry like, and even cursed him a fair number of times, but all he does is pop another peanut in his mouth, sip on his nice cold drink, and give me some idiotic smile, as though I'm to be enjoying the excrement and the phlegm. Seems like an odd way to get someone to love you, as those churches claim is our duty, but they really miss the point.
You see, at some time in my past eternal spirit life, I apparently made some gaff that got this whole human process started for me. It was probably during a card game and I imagine I failed to make the proper bid on a run of hearts when a group of elder spirits, watching from the vantage point of the gallery, singled me out and said, "We’ve got to help that one there". So they approached me after the game and asked if I wouldn't consider going to this great school they knew of far beyond the real world in order to learn a few things that our fellow spirits weren't too keen on teaching me themselves. Naturally I agreed and the next thing I knew I was sliding out of some screaming woman's birth canal. Not recognizing exactly where the emergency was, I set up immediately with some pretty hefty screams of my own. I've had an aversion to all things slimy and bloody ever since and find this wretched body the most disgusting thing I could imagine forcing someone into. Whoever designed it never planned to spend a minute in it themselves, that I can guarantee.
Thank goodness they saw fit to provide us the recipe for Scotch Whisky, which dulls the pain from time to time. Growing up in this vile environment has been a real eye-opener, and I've been trying to get Jesse to take an urgent message back to my as-yet-unborn relatives to let them know that they better change their minds fast and ought not to come. They won't like it a bit. There's not enough vacation time for one thing, and this daily bowel experience is probably the biggest joke they could come up with. I recall being in on the planning session for that one and raised several objections. In the end, though, I was outvoted and I recall one spirit, who up until that time had been a good friend of mine, saying, "I wonder what they're going to do with all that crap when there's six or eight billion of them down there". A real belly laugh he had over it too.
Growing up was very unpleasant and I retained just enough memory of the spirit realm to know that I would never fit in with the crowd, nor would I ever want to. It seems to me that a human being of fairly average intelligence is still appallingly stupid. I’ve been surrounded by them my whole life. And the rituals they come up with for entertainment are nothing short of embarrassing. Dancing for one. Eating contests. And even sex. For all it does to relieve the passions, it's a pretty ludicrous event if you ask me. I passed up a chance to come here about 800 earth years ago, when all my frustrations could have been taken out in the slaughter of neighboring clans, but I insisted on waiting until soap and deodorant were a regular part of daily living. It's a decision I've regretted ever since. Not only would I have been long done with this hellish schooling by now, but I'd have made a few more friends since it's my understanding there's no better bonding for men than to be runnin' each other through with blunt swords and dull axes.
Ah well, it hasn't all been bad. At least I chose the relatively easy route of being posted in an affluent nation with chemically treated water and individually wrapped cheese slices. Sometimes when the pressure gets too much I'll holler at His Holiness to ease off the thumbscrews just a bit so's I can catch my breath and give a thought or two to whatever the “H” my precious “mission” is supposed to be. As usual, he nods, sips his drink and, if anything, tightens them a quarter turn. The key to survivin' it all is to remember that everything he made is supposedly VERY good. So if you have to curse him and everything that’s been put in as an obstacle, this is VERY good. If we weren’t supposed to get mad it wouldn't have been made possible. If this life was expected to be all peaches and roses, we never woulda had to leave home in the first place. So my advice to anyone who feels hard done by is this; hate it if you want to, this is VERY good, but tolerate it as best you can and be willing to ride it out to the end.
And one final word on self pity. The goody two shoes members of the human race frown on it as unhealthy. Personally, I encourage it. Wallow in it as much as you like. In time you'll see that it's a frustrating dead end in itself, but only you can know when you've reached it. I know you'll be thinkin' of me the next time you’re sittin’ on the potty, so take to heart what I've told you. I only wish some Ancient had taken ME under their wing when I was younger. I never woulda taken life half so serious.
-The Celtic Warlord
"...and God looked upon all that he had made and behold, it was VERY good..."
Do ya hear that? It was VERY good. That includes you and all that makes up your personality. It includes all the emotions we've been programmed to suppress. Like anger. Show a little now and then to the Universe, they won't mind. If you're out of line they’re not likely to pay much attention, but you’ll feel better for a bit by blowing your stack. If you're not up to talking to them direct, tell your spirit guide to take a message up if ya like. I hear they're pretty cozy, these earth angels and the ones on high. Do ya know your spirit, by the way? Mine's name is Jesse. I told him/her/it that as long as he was taggin' along I might as well call him something, and Jesse seemed apt for either male or female. So, until I hear different, it's Jesse I chat with when I need to convey my displeasure to the deity, which is pretty much a daily occurrence.
Which brings us to the next topic; prayer. I'll have none of it. Since I chose this life and the cesspit in which to live it, then I've got nothing to say to the ones who convinced me that coming here might be a dandy idea. I selected the trials and I'll face them alone. Oh, I've asked for help from time to time, and the Grand Duke has appeared when I want him, but all he seems content to do is lounge in a recliner with his nose in a book while I'm trying to shovel my way through the latest pile of horse manure that’s been conveniently dropped in my path. I've glared at him pretty angry like, and even cursed him a fair number of times, but all he does is pop another peanut in his mouth, sip on his nice cold drink, and give me some idiotic smile, as though I'm to be enjoying the excrement and the phlegm. Seems like an odd way to get someone to love you, as those churches claim is our duty, but they really miss the point.
You see, at some time in my past eternal spirit life, I apparently made some gaff that got this whole human process started for me. It was probably during a card game and I imagine I failed to make the proper bid on a run of hearts when a group of elder spirits, watching from the vantage point of the gallery, singled me out and said, "We’ve got to help that one there". So they approached me after the game and asked if I wouldn't consider going to this great school they knew of far beyond the real world in order to learn a few things that our fellow spirits weren't too keen on teaching me themselves. Naturally I agreed and the next thing I knew I was sliding out of some screaming woman's birth canal. Not recognizing exactly where the emergency was, I set up immediately with some pretty hefty screams of my own. I've had an aversion to all things slimy and bloody ever since and find this wretched body the most disgusting thing I could imagine forcing someone into. Whoever designed it never planned to spend a minute in it themselves, that I can guarantee.
Thank goodness they saw fit to provide us the recipe for Scotch Whisky, which dulls the pain from time to time. Growing up in this vile environment has been a real eye-opener, and I've been trying to get Jesse to take an urgent message back to my as-yet-unborn relatives to let them know that they better change their minds fast and ought not to come. They won't like it a bit. There's not enough vacation time for one thing, and this daily bowel experience is probably the biggest joke they could come up with. I recall being in on the planning session for that one and raised several objections. In the end, though, I was outvoted and I recall one spirit, who up until that time had been a good friend of mine, saying, "I wonder what they're going to do with all that crap when there's six or eight billion of them down there". A real belly laugh he had over it too.
Growing up was very unpleasant and I retained just enough memory of the spirit realm to know that I would never fit in with the crowd, nor would I ever want to. It seems to me that a human being of fairly average intelligence is still appallingly stupid. I’ve been surrounded by them my whole life. And the rituals they come up with for entertainment are nothing short of embarrassing. Dancing for one. Eating contests. And even sex. For all it does to relieve the passions, it's a pretty ludicrous event if you ask me. I passed up a chance to come here about 800 earth years ago, when all my frustrations could have been taken out in the slaughter of neighboring clans, but I insisted on waiting until soap and deodorant were a regular part of daily living. It's a decision I've regretted ever since. Not only would I have been long done with this hellish schooling by now, but I'd have made a few more friends since it's my understanding there's no better bonding for men than to be runnin' each other through with blunt swords and dull axes.
Ah well, it hasn't all been bad. At least I chose the relatively easy route of being posted in an affluent nation with chemically treated water and individually wrapped cheese slices. Sometimes when the pressure gets too much I'll holler at His Holiness to ease off the thumbscrews just a bit so's I can catch my breath and give a thought or two to whatever the “H” my precious “mission” is supposed to be. As usual, he nods, sips his drink and, if anything, tightens them a quarter turn. The key to survivin' it all is to remember that everything he made is supposedly VERY good. So if you have to curse him and everything that’s been put in as an obstacle, this is VERY good. If we weren’t supposed to get mad it wouldn't have been made possible. If this life was expected to be all peaches and roses, we never woulda had to leave home in the first place. So my advice to anyone who feels hard done by is this; hate it if you want to, this is VERY good, but tolerate it as best you can and be willing to ride it out to the end.
And one final word on self pity. The goody two shoes members of the human race frown on it as unhealthy. Personally, I encourage it. Wallow in it as much as you like. In time you'll see that it's a frustrating dead end in itself, but only you can know when you've reached it. I know you'll be thinkin' of me the next time you’re sittin’ on the potty, so take to heart what I've told you. I only wish some Ancient had taken ME under their wing when I was younger. I never woulda taken life half so serious.
-The Celtic Warlord
CW, you are amazing, Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteGlad to see you've started blogging.
ReplyDeleteI'm thinking if I chose this life and it's trials, I should have given myself a much faster metabolism, 'cuz I'm tired of reigning in the gluttony where food is concerned. ;)
Best intro ever!
ReplyDelete