Chug-a-lug, Donna.

Let's rock.

I have been on a mission for nearly a quarter of a century now. At no time did I understand the meaning of this mission. I followed the path laid out before me. At first I resisted the call. Then I begrudgingly gave in, mostly to prove it was bullshit. Then you walk in. Of all the gin joints in Orlando, why did we walk into yours?

You see, I'm using the back door to the universal unconsciouness now for a very specific purpose. I understand what it all means. This life is a metaphor. This life is a folk tale being told to children in another place, time, and dimension. We are never alone. We are always there, somewhere, putting together the next piece of the puzzle until we realize who we are. You'll never do it in this lifetime. Most every spiritual tradition in every part of the world understood that. They also understood their stories were metaphors meant to teach important lessons. At some point people started taking it literally and fucked the whole thing up.

You see, my sweet darling, it was never going to be possible for us to be together. There were two women who understood this and did not run from it. I married one. The other I cursed by locking her into eternal love with me and then I had to leave. It was the hardest thing I ever did, and yet I have no regrets about it. Neither does she. I'm always decomposing. Always one step away from the next piece of the puzzle. Always moving away from the present and into the past. Can't stay too long. The red riders will catch up to me.

We function mostly at our conscious level. It is what connects us to this world around us. All of its structures, all of its demands, all of its sorrows and joys enter our consciousness. Beyond that we have something else. We are fundamentally aware of who we are, what makes us that singular being, and the more aware of it we are, the more aware we are that we are severely limiting ourselves by clinging to this life as if it means everything. Oh, it means a lot, my love. It really does. This life means more than you can imagine, but it is just a small piece of the puzzle.

The whole bitch would burn you if you were aware of it in its entirety. Don't be a fool, my love. You can only ride so far, so fast. My love rides with you forever. You know that. I have made you eternal. You have made me immortal.

The unconscious is aware of it all. It is connected to it all. It contains our judge, jury, and execurioner. In the end the only one who will judge you will be yourself. And you will try to fuck yourself so hard. When you bathe yourself in the truth of all you have done and meant in this life, you will be worse than your harshest critic. And then you will recreate yourself.

Roll the dice, baby girl. You'll do okay. I'll see you over the next ridge.

This shit is an adventure, my friends. Why do so many believe it needs to be drudgery? What was that I said about us being worse than our harshest critic? Who do you think sent you to this place, anyway? You choose your adventure. You punish yourself for your crimes. You came here for a reason. You know the reason. It just hasn't reached your consciousness yet. Oh, it will someday, but you'll be somewhere else.

The horror, the horror.

Who do you think would punish you the harshest? Yourself armed with your real truth or some overworked god with too much paperwork to catch up on? You got it. You're fucked.

I'm here to tell you there is something else. Something bigger than the biggest tomato you ever saw.

Those of us who have gone on a journey to the other side and back are weird folks. We have no fear of death, so a lot of what we do seems irrational or strange. We only fear stagnation and complacency. Mundane tasks drive us up the wall. I've already experienced doing laundry. Can I stop doing it yet? What is the next thing?

Hopping around like Peter Cottontail bouncing down the bunny trail. Here, have some fake grass, cowboy.

Nice boots, Anne.

I can't tell you how to live your life. What I can tell you is that all that matters is the souls you touch in this life and whether you bring them a little bit of light or a little bit of dark. Karma may be a bitch, but it is an oversimplification. The unconscious has a terrible habit of remembering what we want to forget. Ever wonder why you're having so many nightmares? You've forget some shit and you need to deal with it.

You can leave your hat on, my love. I'll take your coat. Refreshments?

People been shouting about this shit since the dawn of time. They danced around campfires before there was any Coleman shit and told stories of how important it was to give all you could to the benefit of others. That Jesus dude was throwing mental fits trying to get people to understand the message and stop stoning each other. Fuckers never listen. Fuckers go on being fuckers.

I'm decomposing. It only makes sense. It has been almost twenty-five years since my death. My body is breaking down. The Lupus wolf is chewing me up. I've taken so many shots across the broadside at this point it is amazing my ship still floats. It taught me a lesson. Why do bad things happen to good people? To make us empathic warriors. You can only understand the suffering of others when you have suffered yourself. To be of better service to others you have to get the shit kicked out of you first. The path is not an easy one. If all you want out of life is a box of chocolates and a red rose, it isn't for you.

You have to understand the rewards. It has nothing to do with that heaven shit. That's another metaphor everyone gets wrong. Why did literalists take over the human narrative? It is only through literalism that you can build an empire. People only obey your commands if they believe it is necessary for rewards in heaven or out of fear. What is life? Does it involve someone paying you eight bucks an hour to move pieces of paper from one pile to another? Great work ethic, buddy, but that is bullshit. For some people that is the definition of life. As long as they can have a beer and lasagne at the end of the day and maybe meet a little love friend to share their bed and make some chicken tenderloins with, this is life. What the fuck is that shit? I have never gotten that whole having a job is what gives your life meaning line. Work ethic, my ass. Passion for working to the benefit of others is where you need to refocus that shit. You aren't saving humanity by throwing them into a coal mine in God's name.

My sisters and brothers, you are what matters, and when you go out into the world stretch out your arms and say it out loud.

My brothers and sisters,

You are what matters

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