On Waking from a Dream

(Note: This was originally written on August 15th, 2004)

Today I surrender to life. I die in it. Today I release myself from the cage of asking questions. From the cage of limitations. I surrender myself to the never ending miracle that is. To the fullness of joy. I release myself from the ties of doubt that I bind myself with. Henceforth I will accept, not question the magic and live each moment for what it is - not my last, but my first. In the endless circle.

We are all swimming in our life and death. And, ultimately, that is the greatest joke. Like swimming in quicksilver. Like breathing water, being immersed in it. In letting go we hold on. In giving up we win. The ultimate joke. In being meaningless we are meaning full. Trying to hold on to a dream that answered the mysteries of life and death. The ultimate joke. Surviving the storm means dying in it. Drowning in the water means breaking from its surface. It means breathing it in until you are one with it and what dooms you releases you.

There is no beginning and no end. We live in the loop, it is all as one. The joke is how futily we try to understand what we live every moment. We only need to close our eyes to see. Nothing can destroy us. Chaos births order, death births life, and so in death we are reborn in the endless cycle. Swimming in quicksilver, breathing air where there is none. Laughing at the greatest joke that ever was - ourselves, and our delusions of our own self importance.

Tickle my funny bone

I'm a person who loves to laugh. I think being able to appreciate the absurd in life is what keeps me sane. Seriously.

I've even been known to laugh at funerals..which is not a generally acceptable place for giggles. Take my dad's funeral for instance..I was at the back of the church, standing over his casket, giggling my ass off...all because the florist forgot to take the tag off his casket spray.

Obviously she had just picked up the first card at hand, scribbled his name on it as a hasty reminder to the guy delivering it as to whom the wreath was to go to. Mr. Delivery guy did his job, dropped off the beautiful flowers at the church, but forgot to remove the little tag. Result being my dad's funeral spray was tagged with a card saying "Get well soon!". In a way it couldn't have been more appropriate. Dad would have wanted us to "get well soon" ...for our souls to start to heal after those two very sad years watching him helplessly as he lost his battle with cancer.

Laughter is my defense system. And why should we take life seriously anyway? Where's the fun in that? At least when I get old I'll know all my wrinkles are the good kind, the ones you get from being happy.

Damn, have to stop blogging. My miserable other half is nagging me to make garlic bread to go with dinner. Will get back to this eventually.

How do I get myself into these things?

Ok, I guess that now I am a blogger. Maybe its just as well, as at the moment I'm all bloggered up with the flu. Wandered into this thing as accidentally as I wander through most of my life. Following friends off the beaten path so to speak. Not sure if I'll update this regularly - being a domestic goddess does carve a huge chunk out of my exciting day you know. The one good thing about this is that chances are a zillion to one that the only person who will ever read this rot will be me. I'll have to start writing in my sleep..at least then my entries will seem fresh and interesting.

Blogg on.. Blogg off... zeique wherever you are, thanks for giving me one more useless thing to fill my day. I hope you're happy.