It is Sunday night. I’m staying at a Hampton Inn. Traveling for work. I finished up supper about an hour ago at a steakhouse down the road. A couple double vodka tonics, a juicy steak, and savory steamed vegetables have me feeling good and full, and now that I am finally relaxed—I know, I’m just a simple man, set at ease by satisfying the basest needs—I am thoughtful and happy because I feel just a little like fighting. And fight is what keeps me believing that people can change, life is good, and that this—being here trying the keys—is what keeps blood red.

There are bigger fish to fry.  But the problem is people don’t spend enough time on the little things to correctly engage the larger things—the bigger picture. And so, when it comes to the things that supposedly matter more than others, they don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.

They cannot understand the beautiful effect profanity can have on deaf ears.

They cannot understand that love is not defined by a book or gender or conditions or color.

They cannot understand the holiness that comes from speaking to the dead.

All of these minor details—good and bad—subjective and objective—must be fully considered so that we practice our skills of understanding. Because when we truly begin to understand we learn that the advice we’ve been giving, the opinions we’ve been pushing, and the categorizing of the world we’ve been doing so religiously, is wrong and based only on the selfish comfort we crave. And that’s when we need to shut up and listen.

But people want to be coddled. Guided politely and respectfully into their own answers. They don’t want exploration or to be shown things that jar their carefully constructed belief system. They want to experience validation. To know that they’re right. And feel good about the neglectful life they’re living.

Sometimes, in order to win you must give up everything you’ve been taught about the game. You need to go back—way, way back—to the place that is warm and weightless. The one you came from and the one you will return to, again and again and again, until you’re ready to admit you’re not free. That everything you’ve been doing has been the work of someone else.

Once you are able to do this—to begin picking apart the life you have been living, the choices you’ve been making, you will begin to see that all of us are of the same energy. That life is more than subscribing to lessons, making ends meet, and aligning yourself with pre-existing beliefs.

And then you can get out the pan. Sever the big eyes and gills from the body, slit the belly, pull out the guts and get the fish ready to fry.


~ K.J.




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