Jesus and King Kong: two myths

I watched, or rather absorbed, Peter Jackson's extraordinary remake of the Kong trilogy (what is it with Jackson and trilogies? The trilogy, the holy trinity, the triumvurate?). After peeling myself off of the floor, and being consoled by my significant feline other, I proceeded to weep for nigh on a week now. I no longer try to analyse a film much any more. I really just try to check in with what is happening to me and go from there. I mean, I will never forget seeing the rather unremarkable film "Ghost" at a drive-in theater many many moons ago with a buddy of mine. I dismissed it as drivel, while he was changed forever. I know enough to not judge anyones reaction to art anymore.

I guess I could get into all the reasons for my being moved so deeply: having an animal of my own for so many years who is on his last legs, a lost mother complex, addiction issues in general. But I made a very personal decision to allow what I was feeling to take precedence over criticism and intelectual disection. This was a big step for me actually. I knew that I was having a rather "holy" experience with the movie. My rational mind tried to but in, superior wag that it is. But I just kept letting my deeper, softer and more innocent "me" watch and marvel at what was happening in front of my eyes. The result was overwhelming. The experience of beauty was hopeful. More so as I get older and think I've seen it all. The images of the "beast" and the "beauty" will stay with me for a very very long time.

And that gets me to the two myths I mentioned. The Jesus myth is the most wide spread and holy of our myths. It deals with our divinity. But the Kong myth deserves equal treatment and time. As animals, and yes we are animals, that part of our existence deserves to have a myth as broad and resonant as our Godly side. Peter Jackson, if anything, understands the power of myth and the need as humans for myths to have efficacy. I believe that Kong, in his mystery and the depth of our animal spirit (animus, anima) resolves our soul issues and heals the split between the alienated parts of ourselves. I believe that this is what I experienced, a closing of the schism and healing over the wound of our great nature.

I was ready to receive it. Thankfully.

What am I gonna do...

when Inky dies? It just hit me again today. Right now. I simply cannot imagine my life without my closest, dearest friend and companion in the world. I imagined my grief today and have just been struck dumb and numb. The well of sadness, its implication, is too overwhelming to comprehend.

I have no words.

Gorgeous

Good morning. Today is Monday, a new day. This is the first day of the rest of your week. I smell eggs and toast, right here at Hollywood High. Perhaps it's not toast at all. Perhaps its gas. The fizzle of sizzle that ruminates from the beginning of the hampster wheel. I slept quite poorly last night, thank you very much. Co-dependent withdrawal is not an easy thing. To take away the focus from another person, and put it where it belongs is deeply disturbing. I'm not sure that most people would willingly go through this kind of change. Unless they absolutely have to. I often wonder what it is that keeps putting me in the hospital. Is it the flu? The food poisoning? Or maybe it is the subconcious not dealing very well with what it means to stop the incessant caretaking and codependency. The ego is a funny animal. It really doesn't deal very well at all with here and now. I just want more and more and more, and THEN I will be happy, at peace, content, secure. It is so hopelessly identified with itself that any possible revelation of it's strange and illusory nature causes it to reassert it's power. The mind is its do-bidder. The mind runs the ship, but takes its order from "Mr. Shadow". Then, we little people down here, the "meek", kind of wait around and have to listen to this rot gut. The hideous cruelty of the voices that tell us "no" and "you can't". But more than all of these, the voice (or voices, depending on your medication) pound into you your unworthiness. You are essentially unworthy, says the voice. And you need to do many many more things to make yourself worthy. But the nasty part of it is that when you do these things that the ego tells you to do, most of which are about your outsides, then you STILL don't feel any more worthy. The whole race is a big giant slalom of unworthiness chasing its own tail.

If you are unconcious of this then you are its absolute and total prisoner. But you will be unconcious of this fact, and hence will not know that you are under arrest. You won't even know that you are in a cage. When you begin the process of waking up you begin to understand the nature of the game, realize that you are not the game at all, but that you are playing the game that you don't know it is a game. You forget that who you are, and what you are, in reality is total bliss and joy and you identify yourself as this body, in this bag of skin, in this time and place but you are never really in this time and place because the ego cannot be here now. When you see through this, when you observe the mind in its habitual state, you begin to achieve sartori, the recognition of the silliness. And, as the Zen monk says, you laugh yourself silly.

This state, recognition, requires a fundamental commitment to presence on a daily basis. It is a choice. Instead of turning on the news in the morning ( a habit I have done away with completely) you begin the day with connection to your true nature as the ever-present one mind. You begin a concious contact of turning it over to what come to believe is the true nature of self. You let go and surrender. From this place comes the gift of acceptance and, ultimately, inner peace. The peace of God.

What could be more valuable?