The Missing Years

It seems, unbeknownst to me, that there is a great deal of debate regarding the whereabouts of Jesus from 18 to 30 AD. (Aside: It never really occurred to me until now that Jesus is the time we accept, at least in years, and I'm thinking that 2007 is pretty fucking old and outdated) Well, I figure he did pretty much the same things any young man does between 18 and 30--trying to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up, carousing a lot and chasing pussy. Sure, it's possible he took a little road trip to India, ate a lot of macaroni and cheese, smoked a little weed, did a little yoga, and sought the 'essence' of the path he was choosing, being the son of god and all. I am certain however, that this was the high time of his life, filled with the invincibility of youth and the angst of growing. Somehow, I'm sure that Jesus assumed that he'd never live past 30. It was, after all, the original Age of Aquarius. Then, of course, he got a job, became the messiah, and spent his little remaining time wondering why it paid so little, and was so temporal.

It's funny really, that we have all chosen similar paths, especially since most of us have no legitimate messianic leanings. Why is it, dear reader, that we choose to close up our aquarian shops when we hit 30, or thereabouts? Why is it that the summer of love eventually became the winter of stocks and bonds? Why is it that 30 to dead becomes a time of maintenance, of sustaining, of atrophy? Have we really gotten where we want to be?

The answers to these questions are complicated, but are all tinted by a dynamic that doesn't really enter our lives until then, namely fear. I don't know where fear hides until we grow up, but it clearly doesn't exist until then. It sneaks up on us, like a scorpion crawling up your leg in the outhouse, and initially, we swat it away and step on it, but eventually we are all bitten. I don't know about you, but for me the words 'afraid', 'boring' and 'stale' don't appear in my inner definition of 'really living'. I'm not claiming that I have been immune to these ravaging diseases, in fact, I've been crippled by them several times, but I am telling you that I am now eliminating them, evacuating them like a morning bowel movement, and releasing my 'inner adolescent' from my self-constructed prison.

As has been indicated earlier, there are two main goals in the liturgy of the Great Triad: the attainment of nothing, and entangled enlightenment. I have recently taken an enormous leap of faith, and it feels right as rain. I am as clean, as blank as I have ever been. My journey has only begun, but it is free of fear and doubt and expectation. I am like a newly plowed field, irrigated and 'dripping wet with things to understand', my bounty is freely given and possible. I do not know where I am going or how to get there, but I am going there and I will find it.

I'm not sure I know who I was before my journey began. I have always been a bit sponge, a bit thief, a bit liar. I have absorbed many experiences, not always my own, and integrated them into my life. I have stolen many moments, and made up countless more. I have loved with abandon, but I'm not certain my foundation was always real or imagined. I do know that my life has consisted of many pieces glued together by friendship, imagination, falsehood and joy, and I am proud of it.

I am sure that I have no idea who I am now. All the tiles of my mosaic have come unglued, and they are flying in spirals flowing upward and downward. The future medium of my masterpiece is undetermined, but I don't see tile as apropos any longer. Perhaps, colored sands, or maybe rocks, or even limestone. Then again, maybe oils, maybe words, maybe willow. It is still very unclear. But my slate, my canvas, my slab of granite is unblemished by my interventions. It is clean, clean, clean and waiting patiently. And my vision of my life is smoky, like fog and dry ice, and unformed and unperceived. I don't know what it will look like, only that it will come, or rather that it is coming.

In the experiments I have previously described regarding suspending light in nothing, I have mentioned that the light itself is not there, only the 'certainty' of the light. I have clearly reached my entanglement, my entwinement but my light is still the free radical, the muon, the prophecy of the oracle, and is yet certain but unrealized, there but unobservable, earthly yet ethereal. My entangled enlightenment is there, just beyond the event horizon.

While all of it floats just beyond my sight, there is one thing of which I am sure. My planet revolves around a star in South Dakota. She has helped me find my way to nowhere. She has helped create my vacuum. She has made my light certain and suspended it in the void. She has unlocked the door to my unborn universe. Our lights, and our colors, are travelling in the same beam. Our atoms are coalescing, the heat is rising and the Big Bang is imminent.

What wonders await I do not know; what nebulae and blobs will appear; what forces, facets, planes and spheres; what green and infrared giants, what brown periods, what conservation of energy, what mystic particles.

Jesus may love you, but a pirate in South Dakota works better for me. I like her, I love her, I adore her. I know it all begins there, wrapped in her blanket in the Black Hills.