Not Even the Church

I don't know if something new is coming. I don't even know what I was referring to last night. I'm losing my mind.

I want to be telling other stories, stories that are informative and entertaining and surprising. I need different experiences to tell different stories. But I want my stories to be true. So I don't need stories, I need facts. Experiential facts. Entertaining, informative, experiential facts.

I think I can be someone else. The question, of course, is whether I can make that happen as an adjunct to who I am. Or does it have to replace me? I'm a little worried about that. I'd hate to leave and not be able to come back. No story, no explanation, no comfort to the ones left behind. That's not what I'm after. I'm after a new me, with a new experience, with a new definition of what's important and what's not.

Sometimes, I wonder what migratory birds are seeing and thinking and feeling as they cross the lands beneath their remarkable wings. I'm impressed with them. I want to communicate with them. I want to understand them. Not just the genetic drive, the physical directive, the encoded directions. I want to know them at the cellular level...at the level where our consciences can meet and communicate.

It could be too much gin. Or it could be too much pain. Or it might be too many questions and not enough answers.

No one has the answers to my questions. Not even the church. But they never have. Indeed, I've always felt the church was a teacher, just not the kind I wanted or needed or that I felt was good for the student. But churches aren't fundamentally bad. They're just deluded and willing to be misled by silly bullshit instead of challenged to think about realities.

OK. I'll stay out of your way tonight. But only tonight.