Issues of the Soul

IMG_6926 - 2008-05-22 at 00-44-13


“Guilt is cancer. Guilt will confine you, torture you, destroy you as an artist. It’s a black wall. It’s a thief.” ~ Dave Grohl

I was starting to feel pretty bad this morning, until I read Dave Grohl’s quote. I share it with you here. The guy’s a rock star, after all, and that carries a lot of weight, unless, of course, you never make it to the big time, and then your wait is spent in line, like everybody else. “Rockstar” is a beverage. Drink it and become wired beyond recognition. It’s not that I won’t talk to you, after that, it’s that I won’t be able to find you, with your brain racing and all that happy horseshit. You will run ahead of me then wonder why I am not listening. Dude, s’up?

So, why am I feeling guilty? I’m not. But I was just a half hour ago. I set that feeling free, in hopes that it didn’t latch on to an unsuspecting neighbor. Guilt leads to self-hate. Do you really think I want to go there? Think again. But as for my recently possessed guilt, which I found on a catch and release basis, it was because my life has become a mess again and it is only a matter of time before some well-meaning spiritually oriented good deed doers gets me cornered and tells me that I brought it on myself, at which point I will either sigh or laugh, because I have already figured that out. Laughter would be my chalice, were I to drink freely from the moment, as that makes me feel better, but sometimes I go with the more ambiguous action, spontaneously. Why I do that to myself is anybody’s guess. Who’s got time for the truth when political correctness can provide you with a cover. Shelter from the storm.

Stepping outside, just a few moments ago, I found that it is raining, softly enough that it is almost not there at all. It is a work  day and I will work at providing service to the cats at the animal shelter where I work, for pay, on a full time basis.  When working with the dogs at the shelter rain is a compelling issue. With the cats? Not so much. Cats don’t need to go outside. It makes things easier.

So, why have I not been writing, working on one of my two books in progress? It is because I have been feeling like only sleeping, and I have to stay up long enough to . . . I don’t remember why. The rain is falling harder now, and I must keep in mind that the time for my ride to work is approaching at a predictable rate. She who would drive me is a beautiful young Spanish woman. That will make me feel better. I ditched the guilt but have a heap on sadness on my soul. Cats don’t dig sadness, so I must ditch that as well. I’m a mess this morning, but my daily blog post helps me to work through all that. This blog is a confessional of sorts. If I were to write a political blog things would be different. The conservative Tea Party not fold, would feel my lexicon and syntax. We can’t have that. They need to prosper like the rest of us, except that they need corporate greed and Christianity to do so. I’m a Druid. I don’t stand a chance, so I often talk to trees. I hope them folks don’t find me. They will make me go to Jesus, and he is my friend. I don’t want him to be otherwise, for then I would have to pick up the guilt once again. What’s the sense in that? I’ve made poor choices so I’ll be just fine going with the judgements from . . .  oh, never mind. Second cup of coffee, coming right up! Yum.

Today’s opening photograph is of a raven in flight over the shores of Eagle Nest lake, up in Moreno Valley, not far from here. I love to watch them fly. They have an elegance that matches their intelligence, which is relativity high when compared to higher primates. Yet higher primates – well, some of them – frack and judge and suppress their kindred in the name of ideals. I have ideals as well and I say, “Stop that!”. Heed my demands, all ye fools. Go to Mars to make your fortune, just get out of my ‘hood. I’d do the same for you iffin ya made any kind of friggin sense at all. But I wouldn’t go to Mars to accomplish that. I’d stay right here on Earth and make you nervous. I doubt if you could ever feel guilty. That, you relegate to the working man, and woman. They are guilty for not being just like you. I include myself in that demographic. And then I release the guilt, as I said in the first paragraph, thus proving that the longer you talk . . . umm, what’s that you said? I wasn’t listening.

I need food before I go to work. I don’t have food stamps, not yet. Here I sit writing and lecturing folks who will never read this blog. I will stop doing that as of right now, k? I’m supposed to be writing about issues of the soul. That has nothing to do with politics. My bad.

An egg sandwich ought to do me just fine. Tasty and nutritious, and easy.  I still have dreams. But they will have to come after the sandwich. I’ll have to cancel the neurologist appointment, and hopefully I will not have another seizure. That’s just one of the things that have me down these day. Poor me. Yes, I will stand tall throughout the coming days. That’ll take a little conscious tweaking of my beleaguered spine. No biggie. I’ll take physical pain over guilt, any day.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.



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