Zen is a bird perched on a branch, I was going to say, but then I changed my mind. I start to think that maybe it’s a mischievous, yet friendly gremlin having a wink at me from a drain pipe, but that doesn’t seem right either. I’m looking for some cohesive ideas. Maybe it’s a twinkling star, or a crouching tigress, or a song you write in your sleep, but can’t recreate upon waking. Nothing’s sure around here, that’s for sure. What am I trying to say? I guess I’m trying to say that each passing moment makes less sense than the last. My perception is a lopsided, careening kaleidoscope of hay particles, and the dust of lead paint, sparkling like so many galaxies. No matter, though, because I can get into this, whatever this is. I’ll try to be Zen about it. After all, that’s what neurotic agoraphobes with ADHD do. Didn't you know? We try to figure Zen out.
At best, I’m a philosophical tourist. Only a few of us are truly native to Crazy Island. The rest travel here by sailboat or airplane, myself included. Yeah, just like that perching bird, that sewer gremlin, that crouching tigress, that star in the night, that elusive melody—we are all children of God. But what is God? Maybe God is Zen. Sigh. I’m going to have to meditate an extra ten minutes tonight just to get out of the hole I just dug in my head.
One of these days, I’m going to save up enough money to go on one of those fancy spiritual retreats. You know, one of those weekend getaways just for women? We’ll have morning yoga and pray to Lilith. Then, the gals and I will gnosh on apples with peanut butter, or even a Luna bar for breakfast, followed by Group Consciousness. Then it’s on to lunch in the meadow. Next, we’re off to the river for some skinny-dipping. We will all feel so free in that moment, unburdened of our hanging breasts, our too-tight jeans, and all our judgement. Yeah, baby, we’ll let that cosmic current flow between our legs. We’ll succumb to the moment. We’ll live in “the now” until we can’t take it anymore, until we scream in unison, and shudder.
That would be awesome. Radical. Dope. The cat’s meow. If I didn’t know any better, I’d venture to say that it would be grand beyond my wildest dreams, but I’ve most definitely had dreams that were wilder. Sometimes this world seems so strange and irreverent that I wonder if I’m not dreaming. Sometimes the only indication that I’m awake is that I’m so tired. I’m always so tired. Really, the only time that I’m not so tired is when I’m sleeping.
Last night I dreamt of a house with a secret room, and that room had a back door that opened up to the ocean. I took what I had, built a sailboat, and made for the island. I had never sailed before. If I could have anything in the world, I would have that dream again tonight, and the next night, and the next. Maybe that’s it. Maybe Zen is having every night be your first day on a sailboat, and then waking up with the memory of the songs you sang at sea.