Family Outing

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In string theory everything is made up of impossibly small rings of vibrating energy.

So tiny you can never measure them.


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I was thinking today about suffering. I have a small experience of it. Others have their doctorate degrees.


Are we all going to get that much pain? I can hardly bear the thought of all the pain that is floating around in the universe, like those tiny strings, vibrating, filling the void with the music of it all: the cries of the dying, the moans of the wounded, the crippled, the starving. The old struggle, trying to reconcile the beauty with the horror. I know it is intrinsic, I know that it must be embedded in each note, and that every speck and every corner of the whole vast multiverse is filled with horror, is actually made up of horror.

Whose other face is beauty.


Peace.

Surrender.

Joy.

Love.

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Love.



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Today I really want to get drunk. I want my brain fuzzed out. I want to knock out the little dictator driving the bus and let it drift down the road and watch the scenery go by in a verdant green blur. But there's nothing to drink in the house and I don't want to go out and besides, I need to ride this feeling out.

All my meditation and yoga teachings would tell me to stop resisting the present moment and to abandon my preconceived notions of how the moment should be and open up all of my senses to how it actually is.

How it actually is.


Right now.


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Yeah.


I still want an ice-cold vodka martini really, really, bad.


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Or a vicodan.


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Okay, both.



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Also, I want to go to the Sea Chest and down a big pot of mussels.




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I am in a mood.











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