mmmm n ENT
Becuz: 1. in so-called geologic time, none of us (except the immortalz, or izzit the heavily-endowd-&-xxxtreemlee-juiced IMMORALZ?) don’t last very long.
#2 in the un 4t u (in)nate circum(cisn)stances:
i finished a running race (see recent post, re: north rim 8k) and had counted 3 guise ahead of me. i wuzz wrong. however, after i finished, i assumed Betty was already ready to go home. i told her the good nooze: i was not up for any awards — they awarded top three men, and top three women — and i was (by my incorrect estimation) 4th man. the women were strong this year (like “the force is strong in this one”) and there were more women ahead of me than men. yes, we could go home soon.
i went to the finish line (lying?) and looked over (rather: intruded on the personal space of) the finish-line record-keeper. I scanned the finisher’s chronicle … M F F M F F F M … that last “M” was me. I furrowed my brow and scanned with as much presence-of-mind as i could muster. Well, the first “F” was way ahead of me, and due to the heighth and short-hair-ed-ness of the person, I incorrectly ASSumed that that runner was male #2 and i was struggling along in 4th. Good thing. had i known that i was MAN RUNNER #3, i would, for sure, have gotten more neurotic and anxious than i was and probably had less fun.
And so i went back to Betty and said “I have bad news.” People sitting nearby she was talking to stopped to listen. I announced that instead of 4th, i was 3rd. Seeing as how we had skipped the awards ceremony 2 years ago when i was 2nd, i really felt committed to not skip again. I think everyone within hearing distance wondered what the problem was. She relented. We’ll have to stay …
Not that this thing was “fun.” I was in horrible shape! I had assumed (before the race) that the UPHILLS would be my strong point. Definitely not true. I walked, a lot. Embarrassing. I already plan to run MORE of the uphills next year.
Yes, mortal banishment from the realm of the so-called physically living seems to be just around the proverbial corner.
3. oh poo-poo. perhaps i should/could summarize more succinctly: i had expected clippings of my wings, instead of encouragement.
I had considered, then PLANNED to walk in on the “blues jam” night at a pub downtown. I couldn’t predict, based on two prior appearances, whether I’d feel welcome, or not.
I had an earlier appointment, and afterwards drove by the Jam location, which is on my way home —
Basically, i had assumed one of two things would happen. I’d walk into the Location (Charlie Dwellington’s Pub, Grand Junction) and the vibe would be such that I’d know early on that i wouldn’t be welcome to join in on the jam and so wouldn‘t even bother to try to play (or, even worse, try to join in and feel unwelcome);
or: I’d walk in, figure out how to play whatever song was being played right then, there’d be an open mike on the stage, and I’d just “jump in.”
And so I did. Stayed, played, and after an hour departed before whatever welcome would not be totally worn out. I think most the other musicians liked me (especially the bass player when I added his bar tab to mine). The guy in charge, Chris Kennedy (a city council member) came over a couple times to remind me to (1) not walk all over who was doing the solo right then, and (2) back off, a little, as that mike was “hot.”
I would have known if the mike was “hot” had the feed-back monitors been balanced. Hey, I’m somewhat (just ‘somewhat’?) ignorant, but, heck, when i have feed-back monitors operating properly, I KNOW when whatever i’m playing affects the other musicians, and how the affectation, uh, effects.
And so it became obvious within two or so more songs, that i was at the “hot mike” to stay for, basically, as long as i liked. I played for maybe ten or more songs. I had fun! Many people leaving the bar stopped to thank me. You know what? I’m starting to believe that I’m an above-average harmonica player. Well, for this area, that is. And why is this related to “i’m gonna die”? — just when i’m starting to get really good at something …
And now for something from DREAM TIME ~ ~ ~
one more thing before i die …
each and every thing ~
i had a recent ‘relevant’ teaching dream. as usual, i can’t remember what happened, only that after losing all fear
(including, but not limited to: apprehension, thinking about, making plans, trying to avoid it altogether, reflecting upon, etc.)
of death, things were different.
perhaps, in the words of Krishna speaking to Arjuna, i had severed any and all tendencies to identify with the fruits of my actions. i’m sure that for all of us, there are at least a few kinds of fruit we’d all like to distance ourselves from.
things … different.
no, life wasn’t. things weren’t really different. the way i looked at things had changed. not that i would go so far as to say there was an element of celestial clarity, but, perhaps, a little. no, nothing at all was different, only that it felt i could sense infinity, continually.
i still bought groceries at the store, had to drive to get there, get out, walk, grab a cart, shuffle thru’ the store. but i wasn’t just in the store. i could still sense, feel, the mountains on the horizon, the breezes shaping the clouds, &, if i wanted, i could remember the smell of the ocean. and yet i compared prices of cans of cat-food, felt for the freshest avocadoes, assessed my coupons against the prices of different coffees.
interacting with other people at a meeting. though it was foggy and night was falling outside, the separation from sources of light did not hide anything. people stood out in crisp clarity. what they said conveyed (by my humble estimation) more than three times the meaning than that which was, surficially conveyed. i tried to act accordingly. and i’ll bet i didn’t ‘act’ nor seem any different than i would had i not had this new element in my make-up. the brick taken from the structure and replaced with what appeared to be an identical brick. except the brick removed was Fear Of Death and the replacement obliterated that Fear.
i would still get tired, and sometimes get hurt. but it was as if i had a different, no, not ‘shell’ but layer … no. not another ‘layer.’
i was lighter. layers (and/or perhaps shells!) were removed. less baggage, less clutter. and the over-riding sensation that, ultimately, there really was nothing to fear. i remember thinking as i walked down a sidewalk in the dream, that the absence of fear was a logical result of knowing that you have infinity along with and inside you.
and, of course, i woke up. grew up? again: no. but like so many things in life (increasingly so with the passage of time) i knew that I knew. but not any longer. the person i was, uh, became in the dream is walled-off now, but like the pantheon of all possible personages within everyone of us, that person is there, somewhere.