You know, this is positively weird. Perhaps like many things, the product of a superstitious mind, or the power of suggestion. Perhaps the universe really is random — I often think of that — the idea that we can see patterns in clouds — you see a teacup, I see a puppy. Is there really a teacup floating, billowing up there in the blue sky? Clearly not, but we may see one there nonetheless, and so in fact the representation of a teacup does exist, if only in our minds. And our understanding of all this nonsense is still so limited, who is to say, definitively?
Maybe its that I’m wearing my lucky shirt. This shirt makes me lucky. Do you ever think things like that? I used to have a lucky rock. I lost it on what I call our great western expedition. That’s the trip we took out west to Carlsbad, Canyon de Chelly, and Bryce. We rented a R.V. and tooled on out there, west Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Utah.
That part of the country, my friend, is a special place. People say they like to be near the sea. And they think nothing interesting ever happens far from it. They are wrong. Of course the sea is interesting, beautiful, ancient, and ponderable. But there is something else out there, in the desert. A different kind of consciousness. It is beyond words, you have to experience it to know what I’m talking about. I know they felt it out there among the Anasazi, I suspect its releated to Abraham’s journey from Ur, and Moses’ forty years wandering.
I sometimes think my lucky rock decided to escape. I found it years ago, by the side of the little Colorado river. Another ancient place, where people had been living many, many centuries ago. And this rock spoke to me, as I let my dogs swim in the river. Dogs both now gone. They are gone and I am here. But not for long. Do you get my drift?
And I took this rock with me everywhere. I have no evidence that it really was lucky, I just had this idea. I used to think maybe it was an arrowhead, or more likely some kind of small tomahawk. It had an edge that might have been notched by one of our fellow human beings. There was a red blotch near the edge that I imagined might be blood. One side had been smoothed by perhaps centuries of Colorado river water. I used to rub my thumb along its smooth side when I was stressed out. It calmed me.
Once I had lost it for a whole year, and found it again on Christmas eve, because I had left it in my suit pocket the previous Christmas eve when we went to midnight Mass down there at St. Martin’s Lutheran.
And I imagined, when I realized it was lost after we returned from our trip out west, that it had intentionally lost itself, searching for its previous owner, perhaps, or its kin, among the Anasazi out there in places like Canyon de Chelly.
But never mind that. What I want to talk about is this weird feeling, like.
One day, several weeks ago, I came to the office, and I literally closed my door and knelt down to pray. I prayed God to make my way clear. My dad used to say “follow your heart,” but I have people depending on me, I can’t just do whatever the hell I want, even though my heart tells me to just fuck it all, and be an artist. That can’t be right. But if that’s what God wants me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll just put down my work right now and walk off and follow Him, if He actually presented Himself. I mean check out Deuteronomy 31:15 and 32:20. Where is he? “I will hide my face from them,” He said, “since they have provoked Me with their no-god, I will provoke them with a no-people;”
It might possibly explain why God doesn’t present Himself to us the way he apparently used to present Himself to the chosen people. But who knows? What do those verses even mean? But in any case, if its not for God’s sake that I do it, its just a bullshit ego trip, or worse, and I’m just imagining things.
You see, this is what happens when you spend too much time reading spiritual literature. If you ever actually think about it, pick any religion — any of the prophets, the gurus, the sages, they are subject to multiple intepretations. They could be transcendentally insightful, or they could just be kooks. Either interpretation is valid in certain contexts.
You know what I mean.
But I just don’t know what the deal is! This was my prayer: please, God, make Your will known to me. That’s what I always say: let God’s will, not mine, be done. But this day I prayed: I don’t know shit! Search my heart, Lord. You see in all secret places, you know me better than I know myself. You know my comings and my goings, Lord! Then you must also know that I am as dense and as dumb as ten sticks! You know You have to hit me over the head with it Lord! I beg you, make it plain. What the fuck do you want me to do?
And in the past few days, it seems, my prayer was answered.
Thank you, Lord!