There is wisdom in this world. Some of it conventional, and some not so. Much of it touts very obvious things like "Being here now" and "Loving things as they are" as the all-too-simple secrets to finding that lifelong sought deep and enduring happiness. "Be yourself" for instance, is a favorite of mother's and theater camp audition coaches, and worse "JUST be yourself" – as if that were something a person could either avoid or aspire to, as if there was anything simple about being one's self, as if it were something one could JUST do, or not.
Rob Bresny, my guru du jour, and certainly the most entertaining writer of weekly horoscopes I've ever happened upon, quoted someone quoting Christ in his interpretation of my current Geminian status in the stars: "If you bring forth the genius within you," said Jesus in the Gnostic Gospel of Thomas, "it will free you. If you do not bring forth the genius within you, it will destroy you."
And I have this to say to that: No shit. And sometimes both, right? Won't we be destroyed either way, really? I mean free or not. Just look at what happened to Jesus. That these platitudes piss me off does not mean I think they are not true.
And I JUST am a mess, among other things. My hair is a mess, my apartment is a despicable trash heap, my life is suddenly weirdly empty of complications to still be as big of a mess as it turns out to be. I come from a really stunningly messy family and have always aspired to be less of a mess than they. But there it is. What is that about apples and the trees they fall from?
So, if I'm seeking enlightenment in the wise words of aged hippies, as I often find myself to be, then I am to love this mess that I am, embrace it, wallow in it, right? Does that mean I should or should not go ice-skating in the freezing rain? When what I want to do is stare at my greasy hair and newly budded lipzit in the huge 4'x 5' mirror I bought so I wouldn't feel like the only life-sized human in my apartment after my live-in lover of 5 years moved out, feel sorry for myself, and then pop enough Sleep Aids to keep me feverish for 10 or 12 hours?
See the problem is, the really true, really big answers to the really big questions just don't help much with the small, inconsequential questions that fill up most moments of a lifetime. At least, that's how it looks to me from here, now.