On the Testimony of What Is

03/25/2007 6:24 PM – 6:44 PM

And all there is is here and tomorrow will still be. We exist and continue there is this and, whatever it tastes like, it tastes good because it’s all there is and we take existence at its word because we can do nothing else. Then we open up our hands and let it go. Let go. Let it go and fall from the cruelty of not-enough into the just-right of what is. Fire it up.

No assurances because that would take the fun out of it (and that’s as good a theory as any, so we go with it). You know that you love hot chicks. You know that hot is a subjective description. What you know is enough. It’s enough to be the holy fool, if only for yourself. All the world is epic in its tranquility (the obvious lie being the closest to the truth). We’re here. We’ll die and go to heaven. There is much that is not our concern. There’s some that is. The strength of one’s arms. The endurance of one’s love. The eternal summer of the accepting mind. “Okay,” says Joel to Clem. And also to you. Amen. We are not what we were planning on, but we are something interesting enough to hold and let go. Laugh, you sad fucks. You’ve got good bourbon and you call the devils. Then to hell with you (if we knew what it was).

No more dark thoughts of unfathomable tomorrows. This strawberry, so red, so sweet. We are not and we become. Open your hand and let go. Let go of that false god. He only gives fear. Let go your self. He only gives fear. Apprehend your true self, asleep in the bosom of Abraham. Forget your hands. No letting go. No holding fast. Only action. Only good, unlimited by perspective or definition. We come into our own. Was it only the winter nights? No. Because we can fight it. Yes. Because it rolls over and goes away. The way of all things here. The Eternal Mystery, unknowable, grasped by the testimony of the balls. Saying: it’s good. And: it’s very good. Open up your eyes to your open eyes. There is this and, by faith, we can add the Next to the figures. Love God. Love your neighbor (who’s your neighbor?). Love your self. Open your hands and let them all go. Close your hands and hold fast. No answers, just dirty jokes and good beer. Open up your hands and float the river down. Open your hands and recognize that this too shall pass. We are our own, bought with a price. We are not our own, bought with a price. Apply the mind to accepting. Who knows, understanding may yet come. This is enough till then. So red. So sweet. Yeah. This is enough.