Death Defying Laughter and a Touch of Infanity

A world is a perceived world. There are many worlds, and if you do not have the upperatus to pursuve it, it will not exist for you and come out to play.

A scientific world is a quantitative world, whereas religion (not the scary kind) addresses itself to qualitative aspects of the cosmos. Science, restricting itself to the horizontal aspects of reality, necessarily regards the human being as essentially superfluous, no different than any other scientific fact of matter, matter of fact.

However, on the traditional view, human beings are regarded as a microcosmos, a “universe in miniature,” sharing the same plan and clueprince as the whole existentialada. Holy guacamole! This is what the dry desert father Origen meant when he said, “Understand that you have within yourself, upon a small scale, a second universe: within you there is a sun, there is a moon, and there are also stars.”

As Meister Eckhart yelled out while running away from the religious authorities, “The world is created anew for each newborn person.” Or, you might say that when you were bearthed and begaialed, a mirrorcle of the abbasolute was born, and infanity put in a finny phase.

Existence, if you are sonsitive to these these maters (the voidgin kind), is a nonstop guffah-ha! experience. I know it is for my 17 month old gagboy, anyway. It’s all a big joke to him--discovery, surprise, convulsive laughter, rinse and repeat. How does one lose that essential attitude of existence as play, and is it possible to ungrow it again? For as I have munchkinned many times, every lila one of us is an inrisible pax of the puzzall, speaking in apunnishontical way.

One is struck (ouch!) at how absent this gladitude is in the two grim angriologies of our day, Islamism and leftism. Strangely, Ahmadinejad is always smiling, and yet his only humor is quite tensional and headache inducing. And the Tourette’s left of dailykuss and huffingandpissed is an unrelieved stream of anger and unfactive.

Here again, this is another reason why gliberal talk radio will always suckceedngly, because the left can never make fun of so much that is eminently jokeworthy--for excremplement, Ahamdinejad and Chavez, Howard Dean and Jesse Jackson, the hordes of feminist shemales and their feminized femaniacal consorts such as Johns Kerry and Edwards. The left’s laughty loondry list of sacred cowpies is so long and malodorous, that any humor that doesn’t involve hating President Bush is bound to offend one of their conflatulencies, so in a mallard of time it gets terdious very quackily, not to mention blasfumy.

Many people will have to await the occasion of death to hear the final punch line and to get the Joke Beyond Which There is No Funnier. But to live nobly is to live in the company of death, and death is a dark cosmedian, no doubt. For example, my wife and I decided somewhat late in life to have a child to always be heir for us (although our fairytality doctor reassured us on our first shakedown that we weren’t even close to the oldest fossils he had exhumined that day). As it so hap unhappyns, my son was conserved in the very same month (but in a different dish) that I was diagnosed with type I diabetes. Ha ha ha! Life and death juxtaposed. Sugar & sweet. Very funny!

This humorous yuckstaposition of various pilarities such as life and death is pregnant on nearly every page of Finnegans Wake. Sure, we’re all going to die. You anyway. But “Hohoho, Mister Finn, you’re going to be Mister Finnegan! Comeday morm and O, you’re vine! Sendday’s eve and, ah, your vinegar! Hahahaha, Mister Funn, you’re going to be fined again!” In fact, we die a thousand deaths in this liffey life, but “even if Humpty shell fall frumpty times as awkward..., there’ll be iggs for the brekkers come to mournhim, sunny side up with care.”

What will you remurmur when you died? What will you tagalog in your philopaean? I was thinking around this the other day, as I was shooting hoops, mostly oops, by my lonesome at the nearby park. Thinking about my fimfim. You know, my funferal. You’d think it would be slightly mausolating, but it was sort of... I don’t know... wet’s the world... oceanic I suppose.

And then a little byrd spoke his dylan' words to me: “The river flows, it flows to the sea, wherever that river goes, that’s where I want to be, flow river flow, let your waters wash down, take me from this road, to some other town.” That's a way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, the same bloomin' yes that worships in oneder in a weecosmic womb with a pew and is finally nothing after all (before it, two). Or so we have heard from the whys.

It reminds me of a poem Elvis used to recite to his friends and other peerasites, he really did:

As I awoke this morning
When all sweet things are born
A robin perched on my windowsill
To greet the coming dawn
He sang his song so sweetly
And paused for a moment’s lull
I gently raised the window
And crushed his fucking skull

But not a king crosses the phoenix line in this life lest he be repossessed and amortized. I guess that’s my pointer. Somehow gravity must be exchanged for levity and lovity if you want a mahahasamadhi from this womentary maninfestation, while you wait. We all go back to the mamamatrix anyway once we’re cured of plurality. Why not staret now, I for One, One for all?

Now that I have an itty bitty, I remama with him sometimes. What it was like! Face to face in a sacred space, into the blisstic mystic, no you or I, nor reason wise, count the stars up in your eyes. That's how you seeternity. It's there in a wee be tweenus. You know, the nature of reality, the rapture of nihility, a peace magnificent, silent-still, crystal clear, outshining mystery, Truth of truth, syrup hovering over the waffles, Divine spark, breath of life! And you shall never grow so old again, amen for a child's job.

A touch of infanity. Couldn’t we all use it?

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(Note to commenters--I had to enable comment moderation because HWSNBN keeps trying to hijack the thread with his inane and inapproprate comments, so there may be a short delay between posting your comment and seeing it. His assholiness has done this several times before, where he will spend hours posting the same thing no matter how many times I delete it...)