Fact #1. I don’t belong here— I’m innocent.
I’m only sort of kidding. Our planet Urantia is, in a peculiar sense, a prison/playpen for self-conscious monkey men. Granted, it’s a large, spectacularly beautiful and complex prison, and it would seem, a prison very poorly run, for the most part, by the most unqualified inmates; but there’s way more to it than that. There are no traditional bipedal guards, just a couple inventive things like gravity and an atmosphere that keeps us all mostly on the surface, involuntarily breathing away, taking care of business, or fucking things up; that freewill thing, you know.
Generally, the only practical way off the planet is with a toe-tag. But it’s a shame so few inmates realize they’re doing time here, or why, and a bigger disappointment that even fewer actively seek the answer to that question; not to mention a shitload of other essential truths. They mostly just wander around the prison, occasionally shivving others, occasionally getting shivved themselves, accidentally, or on purpose. When they’ve done their time, most of them will wake up on the next world all slack-jawed, where they’ll spend upwards of a 100 years or so learning all the shit they should’ve learned here. So: Live to Learn, Learn to Live.
Fact #2. I eat Cheetos.
It’s more than just the power of cheese, or the exquisite crunchiness; now they have jalapeño cheddar flavoring. Cheetos have always been my road trip snack of choice, despite yellow-sticky-fingers. It’s no surprise that a dick like Joe Scarborough thinks he’s ridiculing bloggers who eat Cheetos in their underoos while we write; but the part about us wiping the cheesey goodness on our bare skin is Joe’s sick peccadillo, you can be sure; only he’s doing it while watching internet teletubbie porn:
Fact #3. My phosphenes have gotten nasty lately.
Not talking optical migraine here; but those little white critters that pop into your vision and swim a few strokes, then disappear, or sometimes they trigger an optical migraine. Maybe I should call them blog-fiends; they mostly always happen when I’m staring at my visual editor.
Fact #4. I make my own serotonin.
Yeh, yeh, we all do; but I make mine in the bathtub— twenty or thirty gallons at a time— two or three times a year, depending on the severity of the winter; bulk chemicals, the whole nine yards. It keeps pretty fresh in an air-tight container in a dark cool place; I use recycled wine bottles. Drink chilled.
Fact #5. I don’t wear a hat.
But I’m into guided self-observation, (see the clip) and have been whittling down the distractions that delay evolving my soul. If you don’t know how to self-observe, find yourself a copy of Letters of the Scattered Brotherhood and read it. Or better yet, The Urantia Book. You’ll see why. Just be prepared to give up your hats.
Fact #6. I. love. water.
In Robert Heinlein‘s Stranger In A Strange Land, Michael Valentine Smith introduces earthlings to the concept of “water brothers.” When I read the book in 1971, it seemed like a cool way to define a relationship with prospective young females, since sex was what water bros most often shared besides the water.
But after sharing a lot of water, eventually I realized the sheer beauty of water spoke volumes about its Creator; from the contemplation of eternity inspired by the endless crashing of waves, to the infinite variety of form created on it’s surface, to its divine power to keep all living things alive.
Fact #7. I’m enlightened, and you can be too!
Relatively speaking, of course. It simply means you know what you am, where you are, why you’re here, and where you’re going. All of these things are freely available to anyone; again: read The Urantia Book.
But enlightenment doesn’t turn you into Gandhi, or the Dalai Lama. It’s kind of a perfunctory awareness, when you think it through. We can have a genuine personal religious experience with our Indwelling Spirit. We are still imperfect flesh and blood creatures, albeit with one fabulously amazing potential aspect: we can choose to live forever.
So put down the cake and get after it, you clowns!