reincarnation phase

August 19, Flying from PTI to SFO

            On the way to the airport, I was trying to piece together a revelation I’d had on waking to my mother at three am.  It reconciles all I’ve been thinking about lately, as dream discoveries do: that the intractable tenacity of character each person has as they are young, medium, and old, will persist in them so predictably consistent as to prove as a sort of augur of fate. I learned this from novels (since I have only lived part of a single lifetime, that I recall), the best of which capture the human condition in many levels of deliberateness and awesomeness acutely and the worst novel written by a human even is entrenched in accidental human wisdom due to its genesis.
One need only to read a book to study the playing out of many souls suffering from humanity, to answer the question “whatever happens to a person like me?”  It is not much further to watch one’s self “suffering” (from a diverse many, joyous things) and to easily recognize, target, and challenge silly attributes blocking the way beyond the grounded human incarnation. 

In me, por ejemplo, the blockages are my vanity and attachment to being not too hot or too cold/not sitting on hard chairs.  I find these things to be cute and endearing and do not feel there is enough time in this life for all I want to learn anyway, so I am content to have several thousand more.  Nirvana also demands I relinquish this body  -  when I rub a certain thing’s pretty little head and he rubs my neck I think I do not want to go beyond human ever ever ever. 

            In other humans, the symptoms are jealousy, the indispensability for vengeance, loneliness, lust, and possibly, conversely, manic traits, since it seems unbalanced that I should only target those that alienate friends and family.  Manic like falling in love or coming up with another big idea everyone knows you’re not going to follow through on, and really any old turbulence is worthy of celebration for its singularly spectacular humanness.  Coming down with any of them means you’re riding out the fever.  I tried to share with my mother that this notion of awareness should relieve some of her suffering, since it means that in several ways her fate is predetermined, even if you consider biological phases only: you will be a big-dreaming child, an idiotic teenager, an important feeling adult… (does someone want to tell me what comes next?) 

            Also a relief: that if your own rate of coming to consciousness is a fixed one (let’s say) there is no even great imperative toward accomplishment of everything this single life ! since the institution of the rate would suggest we’re all gonna need more lifetimes to quit fucking things up anyway.  Futhermore I am attached to my mother and the bouncing around of our souls to remeet over several lifetimes is an idea that appeases me.  If you are reincarnated by your own means, you get to choose your parents so apparently I chose her, according to The Fourth Tower of Inverness, a radio adventure serial she bought me and also one of three primary sources for my trip to self actualization this summer. (also Anthony from Arcata Pizza and Deli, Psychadelics)

            I do not know if I eased her suffering or if my mother even heard me, because it was three thirty am and she was driving through a rainstorm.  I trailed off and started thinking about Burlington hardxcore shows and how next lifetime I’ll be a big ugly guy with mean swinging arms so I can hold my own throwing down at the next Judgment In Malice reunion. Since at the one I left three hours ago I was too averse to getting punched in my cute little face.