Can we take the dunce cap off yet? What if we drop the pursuit of happiness and aim for collective bliss?
If you don't mind, could we (the royal we) please make more sense? We're all disgusted by the swamp of ambiguity and futile contention society has become. Except maybe the billionaires, but they already have the whole world helping them with their issues. (To a megalomaniac, the world is your therapist 😜) Regardless, we've had it with lockdown and masks and social distancing and the desperate dying wails of the unholy triumvirate of nihilistic medicine, disintegrative journalism, and allopathic pharmacology.
Unlike adherents to the nihilistic school of Western medicine that has now infected much of humanity, we know that every disease has a cure, and sometimes the cure involves a radical shift in lifestyle. Unlike the figureheads of identity politics and the stool pigeons of globo-national broadcast fear-mongering, we know that truth exists, that it is obvious, and that we don't need it to be told to us or sold to us. And unlike the ersatz chemical magicians behind the opioid epidemic, the suicide swells, and mass mental breakdowns, we know that health is harmony, that no one thing is the cause of illness, and that life evolves through play toward homeostasis in systems of greater complexity. Satchitananda.
I'm not the only one who smells it, the squall line on the horizon that portends the Great Return. The Invisible Hand over in Davos has slipped its invisible finger off the Great Big Reset button. You may notice a flash in the BIOS as we reboot the biomes, rewrite our bios, and steer the Mothership Earth back toward the default mode where it is only natural to frolic in the effortless abundance from whence we sprang, to breathe easy and play daily, to sing the one song and dance the one dance, to eat and be food in the wonder and bliss of our source and our destiny.
What follows, the full transmission on this fulcrum of transition, sings the litany of those whispered wishes what issue forth from the ethereal tissues wound about the nexus of fuck that and fuck yes. And so it goes…
A Prayer for the Immediate Future, c. 2022
May we rediscover this year, that truth, like harmony, like peace, and like joy, begins within.
May we remember that fear is a cloud that gathers without: without empathy, without understanding, without humility, without reflective introspection.
May we recall the razor’s edge of intense attention, sharp enough to slice through whatever congealing, gossamer net of outrageous fears shrouds our heart's two-way eye with seductive subterfuge and self-fulfilling prophecies of peril and doom.
May we return to our senses, digging our toes into the fetid bog of nevermore, its steaming loam supercharged with the fallen farces and the stench of stories of speciality and separation we once kept as coats of arms and cloaks of identity.
May we respire with one another in brazen proximity, drawn in by the same affinity that swings the moon through its shadowy canon to swing our moods with the tide, drawn together along our common tether to the cosmic breath, pressed left breast to left breast that our hearts might waltz into step.
May we recant a quip of Nietzsche’s about how life would be impossible were we unable to forget, and dive headlong into that tar pool at the Spa of Lugubrious Cleansing from whence we reemerge with a gleeful squeak to leave behind the filmy grief of our failures and terrors in that cauldron where they stew into a fart worthy of the cosmos to giggle about.
May we review the premises of our doings and goings-on from the edge of the Well of Being seated neatly to bubble and foam in boundless silence at the root of heart center from which vantage the idle Worldwide Worry and Hurry are utterly absurd.
May we revisit the long and winding trail of echoes that traces right up to this ever-refreshing moment, hopping back along our choices like so many eternal stones of Kairos in the relentless River Chronos, each hop a reminder of the precious, ponderous impact of this next choice and the intention we might set toward bliss.
May we restring our instruments of attention and intent to rejoin the band of Gaia and Sol who sing the one song of nature-and-nurture that nourishes our travel-weary souls as we wander the chasms and creodes of morphic resonance out of the valley of ignorance and arrogance into the coronal dawn of reborn sovereignty.
May we respect the burning torch of will within every mote and being, greeting bees with grinning buzzes, leaving be the trees to breed, and believing in the beavers who give a dam about rebuilding the community.
May we refine our egos, polishing these fragile shells of scars and reactivity to a glistening nigh-invisible sheen, a perfect mirror finish for compassionate kindness to reflect the warmth we encounter back into the world, and an impervious aegis against the unconscious projections of those whom we still regard as Other, until we may come to find the common root that ties our tales together in the Self we share.
May we reclaim our responsibility for our well-being, taking leave of the congregation cowering about the altar of Material Scientism who pray for total(-itarian) control of the Savage and for survival in a viciously uncaring, random universe predetermined by one big bang and its countless quanta, expanding into ever darker, colder recesses of energy and/or matter away from the immanent knowledge of our essence that arises from stark naked loving awareness.
May we regard our bodies as blessings to celebrate and share with the denizens of this fair Earth who grows all of us, rather than as borders to defend against invaders unseen in a brutal jungle of teeth unknown and claws composed of our ossified guilt for the holocaust humanity has visited upon nearly every species on the planet.
May we reawaken into this dream each day with the curiosity to wonder who we have to thank for all this, and with that gratitude to fuel our generosity, and with that generosity to bring us into the effortless abundance that unfolds from being when the universe operates upon these particular but wiggling parameters of gravitation and lightspeed, veritably brimming with possibility (and zero-point energy).
May we relinquish the wars we wage on nature, on chaos, on germs and weeds, and recognize that those we label as unclean offend us because they still claim a power we have lost and sorely miss, and instead surrender to love at the very next opportunity, renewing our vow to endow our surroundings with the soulful sauce we simmer over the burning desire to do better.
May we remind ourselves to always be asking, to forgive (that’s giving we do in advance) and forget, to breathe and sleep deep, and to nourish and trust our guts that they might return the favor with a steady supply of serotonin and serendipity.
May we realize peace in the quiet space between thoughts and manifest that peace by making playful space to heal, giving pause to haste, and doing less to waste the bountiful grace of this beautiful place.
Mindlessly yours, Kerrbear