Two venti coffee's and one missing ponytail holder

...and I still can't wake up. Bumped into yet another Mara this morning. Her name also ends with the letter a; which is rather quickly becoming my least favorite vowel of the entire alphabet. Her boyfriends name is also Tim (Swissy-Missy b-friend's name) and she's also a wheresdaniela/ patiencearya mystical compository i.e., she studies Cherokee medicine and knew all about me and I didn't recognize her. Didn't recognize who she was at all. For two whole days.

Still couldn't sleep last night. The insomnia richter scale is toppeling man-made topography inside my chest and forehead. I once saw a baptist pastor friend of mine give this poignant sermon where he said that, in terms of universal sign language, the finger sign for "peace" was second only to the hands-in-the-air capitulation motion that equates "surrender".

I like that anaolgy a lot. Some Baptists like to pray with their hands in the air, as if surrendering themselves--everything they are as individuals--to the godhead.

My mom prays like this. She's a very spiritual person (reminds of patiencearya in alotta ways that are not freduian connoted). Growing up mom was always up before Dawn, hunched over her throroughly annotated bible, underlining stanza's and praying with a constipated expression on her face. I've seen her fast and from a young age I was taught that the really only thing that was important in life was "acknowledging Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior". For her notion of God, she's lived a life of complete humilty and servitude and I feel like I myself may even trump her notion of God by availing certain facets of the Universal Light which I have been fortunate enough to have spiritually felt.

But I love the notion of surrender. True in faith, but even candidly, more true in artistic endeavors....I had a dream last week where I was wedged inside an advent calender and everytime I opened a door there was another door. The doors were hard wooden and mideval and thick and I had absolutely no trouble opening them (which seemed to surprise the faceless companion in my dream)but after about twenty of thirty doors I was exhausted, and couldn't pry open the hedge of another thick wooden door on my own.

Being the Advent calender it was like, always Christmas Eve but never Christmas.

From that periphery, I was having a hard time getting to the virgin birth. I was having a hard time leaving my Jerusalem for the city of David. Was having a hard time caring for my pregnant wife who was carrying a child that was not really my own. I was having a hard time adjusting to the shit-stench of the stable. Was having a hard time giving birth to the virgin, revitalizing "new" energy that was waiting behind the last door.

I thought about how Christ says that when you knock the door would be open, but you have to knock (I didn't knock in my dream, I just shed door frames, tossing them down like loosing lottery tickets)...I thought about how Rumi has a poem where the seeker knocks and knocks and still the door won't open and then he realizes with a laugh that "He's been knocking on the inside door"--(TCSMILES)that he was already in the realm he yearned for just could not see it spiritually. I even thought about Axl Rose caterwauling a stellar rendition of Dylan's "Kocking on Heaven's Door" 1992 Wimbledon benefit memorial concert for Freddie Mercury. I thought about all of this. Knock on wood, and then I thought about the notion of surrender and maybe that's what's wrong with me. That I have to surrender all to my little world of sloppy sentences and character development. That I have to give more and not think about myself.

As Black Sabbath (of all the conspicuously non-spiritual bands) note: "Give it all and ask for no return and very soon you'll see and you'll begin to learn that it's alright, yeah it's alright."

So I need to capitulate more. I understand what I'm here to do is just pure action. I left the port along time ago to find that crazy dreamer enmeshed between the covers of his creations and there's more than that. When you get to your destination and you see that the person whom you have been so assiduosly seeking looks exactly like you, you know that what you were yearning for was the experience. What you were seeking was the initial search. The reward is in the sojourn and in the giving. It's pure giving; it's sacrifiecing the security and commodities of life for something that will help someone else.


It's Alright (1976)

Told you once about your friends and neighbors
They were always seeking but they'll never find
That it's alright, yes it's alright

Where to go, where to be
It's always been that way and it will always be
But it's alright, yes it's alright

Give it all and ask for no return
And very soon you'll see and you'll begin to learn
That it's alright, yes it's alright

Don't you know that it's so good for you
You can be making love and I see it all go through
But it's alright, yes it's alright

Hold her now and you can both go home
It's been a long time coming but you've fianlly shown
That it's alright, yes it's alright