The Cobwebs Only Seem to Fill the Sky

will the real mc guimond please stand up, please stand up, please . . . uh, sorry folks--not waving but drowning.


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE

The Cobwebs Only Seem to Fill the Sky
The world is nuts but we are still alive and the cobwebs only seem to fill the sky. We are each a world and our continents are shaped according to our chosen identifications. On my world which I call Freedom there is a whole hemisphere called Love where even the moonless night causes the flowers to dance in the fertile soil of my singing. This is the experience of reverie not an arrogant declaration. Fearless and fulfilled, all of my friends are there. And so are all notions of the holy. On my world there is a continent called healing for those who need it, no passport needed. Another continent is Authenticity. Off the coast of the nation of Leisure is an uninhabited, waste of an island called Work. In my world no one ever goes to Work. But every woman, man, child, animal, plant, and rock rejoices in the paradise of Play, a synonym for Freedom, a synonym for World. Anti-cities dot the landscape of the entire globe. I call these anti-cities Solitudes. All inhabitants are welcome in the Solitude of their choice whenever they wish. One may take up permanent residence in Solitude if one wishes but few make that choice. We respect our monks while the rest of us have fun with others.
There is no law. There is no duty. Raised in Freedom there is no need because the food is not locked behind cages or counters. Raised in Freedom there is no need because the children are not taught to hate in educational prisons, and adults are not taught to hate in occupational prisons. There is no prison if you don’t identify with it. Anyone seeking to imprison another in body or mind is asked, politely at first, to leave the world of Freedom. There is no second warning. The incorrigible are simply booted through the goal posts of Canada. This happens so rarely as to be the stuff of myth. So with solitude the words come, and with words we reconnect with the authentic, and with the authentic comes the freedom to be ourselves and the respect towards those who are different, that is everyone because everyone is free from the opinions of others. Freedom is free as laughter is free, as breath is free. There is no word for desire. There is no need for a word when desire is actualized in everyone and is never obstructed. Though this world is not manifest externally in the world we wake to it can still be real in the world within if we decide. We will write the worlds we’ve been given to write about. And we will continue to love the beloveds that this world has wind-fallen upon us. And we will be ok. And we will skinny-dip in the lake in the land called Healing. You will find me there with a six pack of cheap beer. And we will be sane. The scriptures written in purest gold in every soul are each too voluminous for one to read in a lifetime. But I will read as many as I can.
To laugh with another in joy is the wisdom of the ages. To embrace another in suffering is to know the secret name of God. And to struggle with another in the process of mutual understanding is the grand plan of this and every age. Freedom is the wind that clears the cobwebs away, and love, the child of freedom, rises over the horizon known as clarity. My story is a circus tent. I have lain and named my stakes. One is called Muse. Another Mom. Others include Julie, Sarah, Mayor, Robyn, Sam, etcetera. And all are fastened by a thousand ropes, each named for a thousand significant (and never minor) others who have laughed in my story, or wept in my story, or pushed me in my story, or pulled me in my story, or who simply smiled when I needed a smile, or who simply held me when I needed to be held. For all souls in a story comprise the story, and without one the story is less. May we each honor our stakes, our ropes, our strings, and may the wind continue to blow so that we may continue to see so that we may continue to love so that we may continue to write about it. It is good at times, this life. So let’s live our stories on the worlds we decide to live and live them well.