My head moves more fluidly (inside and out) after a smattering of beer—usually about half a bottle of Moose Drool. I achieve similar results by playing with the right amount of paint, rusted metal, knotty slabs of wood, rocks, or dirt. The right amount of God is a different formula. It ranges from less than none to cosmic tons.
“What do you mean, similar results?” God asks lazily from the kitchen where he’s adding a lot of cream to his coffee.
“Hmmm. Let me think about that,” I say, as if I’m going to answer. I’m sipping my Moose Drool, adjusting my lists, and enjoying the bright yellow birds hopping around in our diversely-cultured front yard. God melts through the window and into the lawn so quietly the birds don’t even notice they are now hopping around on God’s chest. This tickles God. He tries to hold still but the earth trembles. The great heart of God is gathering force as it comes apart in the dirt.
The trick with God is to stall. He’s got the worst case of attention deficit disorder ever. Humans with attention problems face a lot of challenges, but with God, it’s just another glorious day of goldfinches flitting across the wide expanse of everywhere at once.
Ah ha! Everywhere at once. That’s it. That’s my answer. The result of just enough paint, canvas, rock, metal, or beer is the momentary assurance that I’m in the right river, and I’m not going to drown. I’m everywhere and everyone. connected but alone, safe and in mortal danger; and I accept this eternally transitory condition as my own. As God. As a bright yellow bird.
“God,” I shout. “I have it!”
God surfaces and blinks. He’d fallen asleep among the holy invisibilities of existence. “You have what?” he asks, not fully awake.
“I have your answer,” I say, disappointed at his apparent confusion.
God scratches his rangy head. “I think I forgot the question, honey. Sorry about that.”
“God,” I say. “Sometimes, it seems like you’re not paying any attention to me at all. You’re too busy enjoying the yellow birds.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right,” God admits with a guilty grin. “They’re so beguiling and fragile. So perfect and temporary. But then, so are you. I’ll try harder.”
“O.K.” I agree. It’s time to get dressed. I put on my bright yellow pants and a yellow hoodie.
“Look!” I shout to God from my yellowness. “This should make it easier for you.” I’ve also added hot pink high-tops to my outfit. We both think this is very funny.
4 thoughts on “Under the Influence”
I like this episode of your conversations-the relaxed morning, the “holy invisibilities of existence (is it the moose drool in the morning that lets you come up with lines like that?), God’s ADD, and the bright yellow birds. My big question is whether you only have goldfinches or other bright yellow birds.
Moose drool in the morning,
LikeLiked by 1 person
Of course, birdman…you WOULD like this and ask hard questions. They are bright yellow. Technically, that’s all I know. I make things up, as you well know. And who knows where the birds or the words come from? Magic.
Dear Rita, I discovered your precious blog a few months ago, went all the way back to the beginning of it, and have been reading clumps of your wisdom, deep, true and lovely since then. I have finally caught up to now and look forward every Sunday to hearing your voice, to receiving the golden nuggets you so generously share. What a gift you have and are. Thank you! Carol Blum (from graduate school and beyond in Missoula).
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well hi Carol! It makes me happy to think of you wandering around in the land of Blog and stumbling upon mine! Very brave of you to read a lot at once. I could imagine a kind of overload happening! Thanks for the support. It continues to be a strange experience to write and share these parable/prose poems/ reports/essays or whatever it is they are!