On The Metaphysics of Gravity and Comedy...

                                                       R. Buckminster Fuller, American Philosopher

If it wasn't for gravity and, likely, comedy, none of us would be here: "here" being the condition of fakery aliveness... yes, we all bleed, breathe, eat, and excrete so there is that certain definite semblance to aliveness... but we all know, if push came to shove, that we are simply waiting our turn to die...

Why? you might wonder? Why indeed!

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Seriously: if all of us were to wear only cover-alls and dedicate a few hours everyday to kissing our lover, or a willing stranger, our happiness quotient would rise to the tippy-top of the wellness chart: and world peace would be in our collective grasp! "Tell no lie" is probably the first Big Fish every human must learn to fry: without a commitment to honesty, we live as a waste of space... even for an Occupant of a White House or a Cathedral...

Seriously: if all of us were to wake to our essential nature as mystics, we'd be shooting flames of love in every possible direction: how very eezy-peezy to feed all of the world's children! And! isn't a child dying of malnutition and starvation also an abortion? And! we are all the doctors servicing these abortions through our political limp-dick moral shit-fuck cowardice to change...

Seriously: if all of us were to lie down under a tree and look up at the waving leaves everyday for at least an hour, and everyday for at least a summer, we'd be able to stride, with that unique blend of confidence and humility, into the upper eschelons of Stupifying Insight! What good are our "religious" practices if we have lost all sense of the value of our time? If we don't have time to be utterly useless, we will never be capable of any really good use!

Seriously: if all of us were to fall in love with a dog, tortoise, or goat, we'd be awakening to our desparate need for life companionship and the splendor of basic kindness: such an awakening is similar to the story of a hermit-monk being given a basket of grapes by a passing caravan in exchange for the new basket he had woven. Knowing, though, that a certain Elder in a nearby cave was lonely and missing the comforts of his long-ago family home, he took the grapes and gave them to the Elder. The Elder, knowing that a certain young monk was deeply troubled by doubt, took the grapes to him.. Not surprisingly by now, but the young monk knew of a kind old basket-weaving hermit-monk who just might really enjoy the grapes... and indeed, they were the sweetest grapes he had ever tasted... Dying to the irrational need to glorify oneself -- and simply being kind to others -- is e v e r y thing... 

Seriously: if all of us were to change our religion and our politics to Gravity and Comedy we would lose some words from our dictionaries: like misery, greed, idiocy, violence, rape, and fear... Gravity is sort of like the door to the home we always dreamed of: the place where both voice and silence are free; where barefeet and comfort are like a gentle,  giving, massage or cup of wine; where we meet others in Sacred Circle with our stories, songs, joy and grief, poems and dance... And Comedy is like a crowded bathtub or a midnight-flashlight-beachball-volleyball game; where reality is alternatively defined as "a gateway to the nonviolent life" and where the "different", the "stranger", the "lost and lonely" can finally find their place...

Seriously: we have, right now, the option of exchanging eaten up by nothing with a new metaphysics of love... and everything could change in just one minute...