June 7, 2017

Every morning, I wake up not knowing if I’ll have dementia or not.

No, not that kind of clinical dementia, but the other kind all of us suffer from, spiritual dementia.

Some days, I’m living fully in spirit.
I remember everything and I can swim in that sea all day long. Yes, LOVE is all there is. Music sounds amazing. I’m inspired and fully charged. I see beauty in the birds swooping in and outta traffic. I see beauty in that old lady walking around the block for her daily exercise. There’s beauty in that little kid who will grow up to be a big one. The circle of life.

There’s beauty in the ones who’ll be dead and gone, as they emerge back into the nonphysical. And maybe they’ll come back again, this time as a Chinese piano savant. I can love the world just as it is, imperfect and all. Beauty and ugly, it’s all good. A big cosmic illusion and a fun playground.

Other times, I’m a mental patient, a zombie going through the motions of being a mammal on earth. Hunting, gathering, mating.

How to grasp onto that spiritual world longer?
The more I try, the less I can hold onto it.
When I give up from exhaustion, all of a sudden it shows up.
I’m Wile E. Coyote and she’s the Road Runner.

Sometimes mushrooms get me there.
But if I purposely try to get there too often, using shrooms as a crutch, then they bite back. Give me one hell of an anxiety trip.

Sometimes music gets me there.
If I forcefully try to get there using the same song as yesterday, it no longer works. It’s like someone took away all the flavor and scents and I’m chewing on a plain boiled chicken breast.

Ditto meditation. If I have amnesia, I forget about doing it altogether, and even if I do somehow remember, it’s the last thing I want to do.

Hang around with other mental patients too long, and they’re really everywhere, especially at the grocery store, I’ve forgotten everything! Almost for good! Put a fork in me.

It’s like those clocks that chime together after a while. Bring in a fresh new one and soon enough it’ll beat to the same old rhythm.

I can write all the sticky notes I want and have them pasted everywhere.

I can get tattoos all over my body with sayings like “just breathe” and whatnot. Nothing helps when you’ve forgotten.

The good news is that when we least expect it, that spirt world comes back and gives us a glimpse of what we’ve forgotten. It’s like the waft of a rosebush brought by the winds right to your nose. Oh yea, there it is.

Forgetting is for sure.
Remembering, if we pay attention & chill out.