What’s your deal, anyway?

September 24, 2011


It’s Mario Puzo’s fault, man. When I read “Fools Die” as a teenager it was over for me. The first kindred spirit. The first thing I could REALLY relate to. In the box. The feel, the tone, of feeling the box and going a bit crazy about it. Or maybe not crazy enough. Perhaps the real secret of it all is going mind-numbingly crazy such that you really don’t think about it or feel it, actually. Thinking about it is one thing. A simple prop, to occupy my time. The feeling, the pervasive feeling, is another. And to become Merlin is brilliant. To ride the ride, but don’t believe your own bullshit enough to numb yourself to the X factor. That’s how fools die.

Sometimes I wish I could follow through and just go batshit, myself. Or self medicate to the point of going through the motions like everyone else, and it being enough. But it always breaks down, damn it. At some point I feel lost without that somewhat haunting existentialism that has always been there with me. It has become how I know I am alive. It has been there with me through it all, by my side, my life-long companion. I spent at least the first half (more) of my life feeling accursed with this. It has taken a long time to settle down and see the gift in it. That it wasn’t just the box, but a peek outside. Nah, too strong a description. A feeling of what it might be like to peek outside the box.

But it isn’t about me. It is never about me. That’s what flipped it over. That basic understanding. As long as I was constantly caught up in reading and rewriting my own in-house press, I was miserable. Trying to figure out a way to play the reindeer games without showing what a loser I was and how afraid I was. If I could figure that out, I could shake the beast off me. I could be comfortably numb. Ha ha ha ha ha ha…it wasn’t letting go. It had plans for me. It was willing to wait for the fruit to ripen.


It is tough to put some sort of qualifying statement in the same paragraph without sounding utterly pretentious. As if I REALLY understand what is going on there. Maybe magic. What do you consider magic? I know it is what broke the spell of self-absorptive wallowing for me. Love for a woman, love for a child. It isn’t about me, it never really was. That was, and is, an evolving realization. It can take a while to let a relationship be what it is, instead of what you thought it should be. And that feeling was still there. Sure it was easy to drown it out in the drunken spell of love magic, but it is patient, as I may have said.

So when things settled down, there it still was. And I was confused at first. I thought I had found the answer (Ha ha ha ha ha ha), but I also realized that I missed the feeling. It was integral to who I was. So much time running from my own shadow.

I waded in more and more. When the will is strong I will submerge for a stretch, and then go back to hanging on the beach, for better or worse, and give some of what I’ve brought back time to work its way through the conditional filters that I’ve built to impress myself and others. But more and more, it has become a desire for me to connect with it so that I can say “Thank you.” For all of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And in return, I have been told my purpose for being here. The Wizard of Oz gave me what I already had.

I am a heyoka. I am crazy. I am the cosmic clown. And that does not necessarily mean making any of us laugh…just ‘it’. I have no intimate friends, in the traditional, cultural sense. Well, one. She will understand every word of this. I will try to live up to it, for her. Beyond that, it all gets confusing. I will test you, aggravate you, mirror you, whatever the situation is calling me for. In exchange, it is necessary for me to live outside the main village, and I get a feeling of what it might be like to peek outside the box. But I am not Merlin. I do not control the magic. It doesn’t really work like that…

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6 Comments on “What’s your deal, anyway?”

  1. kateshrewsday Says:

    Thunderbrid-dreamer. Your voice reminds me of another heyoka, the narrator of The Gargoyle- Andrew Davidson. One of the most haunting books I have ever read.


  2. wordsfallfrommyeyes Says:

    I love your ‘talk to me, cute thing’ 🙂 Very interesting read – really drew me in. And no-one can control magic, hey.


  3. Tori Nelson Says:

    “Thank You” for all of it… that’s the very best way to live I think! Great post.


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