Self Maintenance
The night bears on as I lay here writing with my metaphorical stinger, a pen. Calls from loving relatives like distant echoes drive me to the cave that is my mind: like, refraining from writing down curse words because of the fear of blended desolation and isolation; like the connection between Uncle and nephew, aunt and neice. These are the things that keep the children up at night... These are the adorable concepts that shut the mouths of innocent adults, only tempted by Joy.
All are innocent. The ravenous bear, the crow that eats only what is in its Nature. Gratitude fills every pore and every vein to the very subatomic nerve ending of every cell of the human body. You ask what is Love, O disciple? Know that any one Being that provides a definition is but an animal providing the Lord's work. None know the masked desires of the Infinite workings of Man, and neither with Women. Trying to figure out the Love relationship between Man and Woman is like proving Mother Earth's falsity, it simply cannot be done. Joy is the substratum of all existence; what else needest be pondered. The scribe which is me writes in fury and rage only in mere expression of that which cannot be expressed. If you believe in every word in the book of Holies then you must believe every word spoken by Man, as though a lie is an illusion.
'God sent a rainbow and that means there is not going to be another Flood.'
How do you know that that is not a mere lie out of Love? With Peace as the substratum and non-violence as my captain and commander-in-chief, I will now write down some dialogue. If violence be interpreted in this dialogue, I hereby affirm the reader should let all their tension out, Now, through breathing and/or Art.
"Hello, Mr. Dianisse, how are you?"
"Well actually quite good and how about yourself?"
"Deces Feces Mrs. Smith, I have been farting pretty much all fricken day long."
"And what would you say is the cause of all this "farting"?
"Well, I don't know Ms. Smith it's really just the effect of all that I eat, if ya catch my drift."
A dog pouts in the background.
"Dr. Dianisse, what is our next course of action?"
"Well to be quite honest with you I have no clue what it is, I am so molded in the present moment, well there is no such for me as 'next'.
"I would have to agree only with you Doctor, I much prefer the present moment over, well, anything else, to be honest. I see nothing in this Life greater then the present moment. Tis far greater then the sun or the moon, tis the most greatest and will't it ever be!"
I awoke just the other day to the sounds of birds chirping. Shall I explain it to you?
It wasn't death or a near fatal injury that drastically changed my Life, it was merely falling in Love. Everything was going well; I had a job, I was going to school, things seemed fairly decent. And then, I went to the rave. This was no ordinary rave - it was a yoga rave, meant for saints and poets and angels of every classification.
This rave had a profound effect on me, my loved one being the cause. It pushed me off the sears tower and I started falling, deep, deeply in love.
Free falling. In other words, my body against gravity. This horrendously scary free fall has lasted about one year. And just seconds before hugging the grass below, I felt a sudden physical change in the muscles below my shoulders, protruding out so sharply the momentum of my fall had broken, my body was suddenly floating, upward toward the sky, and above the earth. The blue eyes of the heavens descended like a painting framed benevolently and worked on by all master's of art descends upon a contemplative orphan boy. I was no longer falling in Love, I had fallen in Love. Love, a deep, dark pit filled with Light and Joy, intimacy and the graceful animals of the Lord.
This upward motion began to think, as though it had a separate mind. It thought independently of my body and mind!
How had this fall happened? "Getting lost in the loud and boisterous songs of the yogis; physically bonding with a purely innocent one of the opposite sex, yet not having sex," it said to itself, in its head.
5 feet, 10 feet, 50 feet it rose, beginning to look at passers by from a bird's eye view.
"After this inflammatory event, poor Noah lost his job and left community college, only to hope for the best during summer holiday vacation in North Carolina. And his Love never came. Only a holy book of intellectual imaginings and three beautiful companions, two of them Lovers, only to remind Noah in his future memory of Great things in the most miserable of times."
And, when the body and soul and movement finally ascended to where it had fallen, it questioned what had caused the ascent in the first place.
"Rebirth, divine intervention, angelic happenings?"
"No," I said to the ascending phenomena suddenly stopped short. "It was a simple Rudra Puja."
A divine ceremony difficult to attend, the Rudra Puja brings the seeker in touch harmoniously with the Lord, and can trampoline your entire existence, even give it wings if you attend the whole thing.
"Wow!" said the wise man.
And, as I sat in the lobby of Sears Tower drinking punch and eating a fair trade organic brownie, I thought of the time I had just gotten my back left tire refilled, I had 80 bucks left, with some change in my Buddha figurine. I owed 75 for insurance.
This reminded me of when I was 7 years old, with only a 5 dollar bill and some coins in my piggy bank.
Hear ye, here ye, my Divine Plea! What is impossible? My uncle of the sea? Tis the hour of Lovers, or the forgotten?
I summon my concept of God, and ask it:
Is it those ravishing blue eyes I yearn so passionately, or is it that veluptuous black hair?
Is it that magnificent rainbow that suddenly appears along with her presence, or WHAT? WHAT IS IT MY LORD? WHAT IS IT I CAN DO FOR THIS WOMAN WHAT IS IT I CAN DO FOR THE WORLD?
(This was written on an organic farm around the Winter of 2012)
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