Dead Man's Email

Nothing funny here, citizen. If you're looking for funny, you might wanna move on to the next post.

Da-da's been spending time looking through his friend's email -- his best friend who relapsed back into booze for the last time, got mad at himself and took his own life rather than face the anger and guilt he felt at his all too human weakness... so, Da-da hacked his best friend's account looking for a last note, a letter to the editor, a final jeremiad about addiction or insanity or fluoridation... but there was nothing. Just job offers (Da-da's friend was eminently employable), a little father's day email to his dad (and to Da-da), and spam. Sad, really. There was no final note left to mark a life lived on the quiet edge of madness. No last thoughts on the whys and wherefores that were so severe that he decided to put a bullet in his brain. Yes. It's after midnight. And Da-da's in too truthful a mood. He tried to warn you off with his DO NOT ENTER sign, but you're still here in fascination of the abomination. Da-da did a whole novel about these midnight, living dead thoughts, but you don't know about that. So, what's this all about? Late night anger and upset? About a friend who took a wrong turn? Partly. It's that, and a friendly heads-up. It's also much more. Let's explore, shall we?

We all come to that dark place, sometimes. You know the place. That spot within ourselves where we question nearly everything and wonder why we're here, wonder whether we have value, whether we should indeed go on living. For many, it comes right down to an instant, a moment. Da-da has been here awhile and has years of experience and actual old fashioned mystical knowledge, not the least of which is memory of sitting on the brink of this madness -- read, HE'S BEEN THERE... and consciously stepping back from it, unlike his tragic friend, so allow him to speak to that real being inside you a moment.

You aren't what you think you are. You're actually a part of something so grand, so majestic, so INFINITE, that... well, words are cheap. Words aren't even a real part of us (they're our invention, so we can talk to ourselves), so let's chuck that and go on gut. Whether you like it or not, you are part of something huge and intractable. Immutable. Immortal. You cannot be destroyed, no matter what you do. Blow your brains out, take poison, jump off a bridge, put asps to your breast... it's not going to do a single solitary thing, EXCEPT make you come back and do this all over again. If you're indeed on this brink, or know someone who is, read/send them this post.

Fact is, this world is not real, and suicide will do nothing but prolong the inevitable. It'll make it worse, in fact, because you'll have to recover from what you think you've done -- and what you did to yourself because of it. Guilt guilt guilt. Fear fear fear. Ridiculous. "Reality," as you know it, is not reality at all, only perception. The real "reality" of you, of me -- we're the same being, you see -- is that We Are. No amount of violence you do to yourself will change that. Do yourself in and you'll still have to face the fact that you're part of a larger Something that doesn't judge, and that you've never done anything wrong and you never could even if you wanted to. Read that again. YOU are harder on you than any concept of a Supreme Being, silly lake of fire or otherwise. Would a Supreme Being want you punished for whatever you think you've done? Not One Da-da wants wearing the Royal Sweatpants of Eternity. We Are, brother, and we're part of something tremendous, something that has a name that you can't pronounce (literally a vibration), and it's something you need not be afraid of, something that loves us so much that even the worst is forgiven. This is hard to fathom for some, as the world you're used to is about sexy bodies and guilt and blame and fear and revenge. But Da-da's here to tell you that you should step away from the brink and join in the George Bailey Dimension.

Huh?

Yes. George Bailey. The guy from, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE. The man who asked never to have been born. What's this got to do with anything and why? Because, doofus, by committing suicide, you are asking just that: to have never been born. But if you could see your life, no matter how hideous, if you could see what part that life might play, you might see the positive impact, the baby steps, no matter how small, the impact of your silly life has on others. Just as Stephen King wrote in, "The Shawshank Redemption," you have two choices: "Get busy livin', or get busy dyin." But you don't. Not only is this terrible advice, Da-da's here to tell you that there is no such choice. You might ex-out this body for a time, because you think you can't take it any more... but you'll be back, eventually, with that same fucking choice staring you in the face. And until you let go and let something else... whatever you wanna call it, Big Juju, a Higher Power... until you let It choose for you, until you let It take that fey compass from your hand and say, GO THIS WAY YOU BONEHEAD, you will be doomed to The Pottersville Dimension. Not indefintely, but for a time.

Time is an illusion most subscribe to, but it's not real. It exists only to give you a finite class length. You're a Supreme Being in your own right, part of one anyway, and you're in school, here to learn. Look away from the hourglass pain of the clock, brother, and choose to learn. Learn what? Let go and find out. Take the lessons, no matter how hard. Get through it. And get better. We'd be lying if we said we weren't counting on you. So... get busy lettin' go. Wait for the path to materialize, because it always does, and then follow it. When the student is ready, the teacher materializes. In the meantime, don't take things so seriously. And stick around. You'll be glad you did. We will, too. We're all in this together. And if you can't follow any of these ramblings, just go watch that Jimmy Stewart movie again. And pay attention this time.