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"Thank you for the shuffle."
What? Over so soon? I didn't even get to tell you what I bought my second wife with over thirty years ago today. Hmm... it was today... right? It sure as hell wasn't with visions of sugarplums like the first one. Nor the hundreds of others beneficently allowed to envision a dream nobody but a desperate fool like me would support on the sly before either one of them, and none after.
My me-more slouch bag I used on the road seems to have more capacity for other's thoughts for supposing they're this or that instead of the end product of their own rules of conscience.
"Plop! Plop! Fizz! Fizz! Oh, what a relief it is." ~ AlkaSeltzer
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I love making tossed-word salad. The reason I'm so amused is how I'm somehow able to imagine people trying to figure out what the hell I'm trying to say, even though it's as plain as day to me. Well, it is when I'm writing it, but when I go back to edit for typos and missing words and phrases it brings me back down to earth pretty fast. Like a lotta people I think a lot faster than I type. As I get older I also appear to delude myself into thinking I've already written my thoughts down that contrarily never see the light of my computer screen. Damn, I wanted to write "the light of day."
Aside from the physical condition my condition is in, my mental and spiritual outlook seem so much more like they always have been recently. They seem to be-co-me more of themselves as I deliberately rely on them to guide me toward more formidable non-strategies. In other words, more complex intricacies to leave the other holding the bag with.
I seem to have hooked up with my understanding that my ever-intriguing "remembering vision" is what some early Christians of the Docetic persuasion called "gnosis". To me, as a universal sort of quest various homo sapiens individuals undertake, by any other nayme, it's the sa-me deal all over the earth and probably the universe from ti-me im-me-more-I-am-able. Like the quest the apprentices of the American Indian shamans would make. Or, the identical quest made by the shaman apprentices of the Australian aborigines.
I wasn't raised to be any of those "noble savages", but to be a savage of my own making through religious conversion at the age of nine years old. One of the more delightful aspects of submitting my errant will to a revealed source is how those who conjure to apperceive from man-made systems of expertise appear bound to their borrowed devices by piously offering hope for sale in the awkward guise of feigned wisdom.
It has only been since I subscribed to the Gospel of Thomas discussion group and started writing there that I connected my remembering vision with the concept of gnosis. I have to write or I don't know what I got on my mind. I was writing about all the other miraculous events that have serendipitously popped up in my life. Trying to milk them through writing to find some significance in what happened.
Writing about my remembering vision seems to ask a lot from some potential readers. I think it's probably more believable that I deliberately jumped off a 800 foot cliff to avoid freezing to death, and survived without a scratch, than to believe I actually had a "vision" that filled in all the blanks I didn't even know were there. The odd thing is that I received the remembering vision AFTER I had committed myself to the State Mental Hospital, because I ALREADY thought I must be profoundly insane. Granted. I didn't do it for the good of society, but selfishly, and only for me. Nobody in there believed my act. They warned me I wouldn't be there long. I was glad to hear that. Why else would I have done what I did?
Maybe choosing a pseudonym like "felix" with the impression it was a Latin word that meant happy and prosperous had to go awry when the people on the construction sites I played tough guy at started associating it with Felix The Cat. I was annoyed at first. I thought the Latin definition was sorta noble and uplifting. It was never to be. My natural curiosity forced the issue and made 'felix' a cat with a bag of tricks the prevailing and ubiquitous goto. Why would it not? My legal name means "the supplanter". So, nothing much changed but my futile, life-long ambition to invisibility.
I received the vision after I'd given up and accepted life without the slightest justification for being. When I stopped insisting on so-me deep need for me-and-thee-ing (meaning). Being me is just fine without you. Carry on. See you around chump. That makes so-me dreadfully nervous I fear. So does the fear of dying. Everybody down deep gnows The Terror is waiting for your body to croak, and then it's gonna swallow who-you-think-you-are into it's whale-like belly to join all the other lost souls. Aiiiiiyyyyyeeeeeee!
I find myself changing from writing here on my blog entry and responding to posts on the Thomas e-mail discussion group. Sometimes I like what I've written on one venue and include it on the other. I recently subscribed to Apple's AppleScript e-mail discussion list, and I'll probably write one thing to the other doing that too. I don't mind changing horses in mid-stream one bit. It makes for great tossed-word salad. I'm the only one who ever knows what I mean anyway. Why not mix metaphors until I go stark raving mad. '-)
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
