“One day in 1910, Thomas Hunt Morgan peered through a hand lens at a male fruit fly, and he noticed it didn’t look right.”
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5
I get a few letters. One of my favorite pen pals that has come about since the Missouri Water Park incident, has been with a man who goes by the pseudonym of Tom Morgan. I wanted to share the following dialogue, because I know this man’s heart, with it’s masculine and human issues reaching out is not alone, nor is my feminine heart with it’s expression alone, in the reaching back in a very basic and human response to him. The issues we all deal with are humanistic, societal, and somewhat unique to our time. And then again, not at all. The echos that arise in the chambers of this man’s heart (throughout several correspondences) apparently are:
Does life have a purpose? And if so, what might that purpose be?
And so we have a theme, which past the point of bare and basic survival, and playing the “game” of life, has been the historical and lifelong theme of humanity itself.
The purpose my friends is love -and the higher things of love, which include honor, respect, and truthfulness to a fault -the very nature of honesty transcending all fault. Love itself is the very theme and purpose of this life, and without love, life has no meaning outside of pleasure and survival. You work. You play. You mate. You die. You wish to hell that you understood why.
Let me tell you something as basic as a fairy book story, as good as a great Disney Movie, and as profoundly tragic and also beautiful as a strung up God on a cross. You were born into this world to Love. In whatever shape or matter you are able to summon up and cause this form to rise- or in whatever natural, or seemingly unnatural form, it naturally arises. No matter what conquest, gain, power, dominance, sense of authority, personal actualization you achieve in this lifetime- a life void of love is a sad and vacuous dream- like a beautifully designed, yet empty house, filled with no sounds of laughter.
-Love has always been holy.
In order to love another, you first must love yourself. And not lip service love. Not, “I want to make myself feel good because I am a selfish creature that likes to feel good love.” But you must love yourself in the way that you love something honorable and worthy. Which means you must dig for and uncover the honor and the worth that lives inside of you. It is there.
The things you have given energy to have grown stronger inside of you. But you can begin the process of choking out those weeds. You can become a selective consumer -better word, CREATOR- of the person that you are today, and the person that you can be, and will become tomorrow.
Let’s go treasure hunting. Shall we?
I think I’ll go with…no. You’re right, I’m sick to death of myself and it’s because I’ve tried to make a man out of a dog. There is not a woman on this earth worth any time or effort that won’t stab you in the back or in some cases have the decency to look you in the eye while they cut out your heart and feed it to you. Men and women are equally a joke and disposable. We all claim to look for something deep and vast, yet none are capable of both and in some cases, either! There are those deeper than any ocean but about as broad a drinking glass and others who are vast and interesting but don’t even require you to roll up your pant legs with their depth. We are looking for God in mere mortals and wonder why we are persistently disappointed? This world is a salad bar and we all take turns being the customer and being menu items. I’m sick to death of being on the menu. I’m sick to death of trying to be Godly when God has nothing to do with ANYTHING that runs thru my mind on a daily basis, as I’m stuck in the sorrows of the past, the misery of the present and/or the bleakness of the future. Nothing that makes me smile waits for me down any road and I am sick to death of choking on this loathsome bitter existence. So if I’ll find no peace in my life, I’ll settle for a little piece in my life and settle for the depths of vagina than the depth of souls (which is fine since that’s deeper than any soul in this world) and the depths of any other orifice anyone wants to offer up for a sacrificial stabbing. This world consists of nothing but junkies looking for their next rush, so fuck it! I have neither a place in God’s world nor his kingdom. “Man goes to doctor. Says he’s depressed. Life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world. Doctor says treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town. Go see him. That should pick you up. Man bursts into tears. ‘But doctor,’ he says, ‘I AM Pagliacci’…..Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on snare drum. Curtains.” – Rorschack/Watchmen
You’ve had too much of one, and you’re ready for the other. It is there if you look for it- but you also have to believe in it. Which means you first have to harvest, nurture, and believe in it within yourself. You threw away your innocence. Now purposefully seize it back. Period.And remember to be grateful for experiencing the contrast, and having the right to choose.We only have the capacity to see the thing that we are. Work on creating the depth of your own soul, in order that you might see the potential depth in others.You said: ”We are looking for God in mere mortals and wonder why we are persistently disappointed?Great line/thought, and I remember when you suggested I relieve myself from this sense of obligation.*****Another Ode To Love, Because We All Know It’s True. Yes, We All Know It’s True. Dig Deep. Become Unburied.Resurrect Your Golden Boy.Great Joy.Joy.