The paragraph below is what I wrote after reading the responses to the “Faith & Creativity” stories that I asked you to share with me. Please keep them coming. What follows is a stream of conscious writing: My apologies to whomever reads this. Sometimes you just have to.....
When I am happy I do not create. When I am blue, spirits haunt me. I need a tank of fuel to create. Fueled by spirits of the bottle, madness of the psyche, motivation of my heartbeat. I sit next to the crazy girl in the bar just to listen to her talk, “Set fire to the world, envelope please, another scotch & soda barkeep” she says. I love every breath she takes. Just listen to her. It's like jazz. I steal every idea she spews. She looks at me and says “I hate people." Next she asks me the same damn thing, “Do you hate people?” No, I just like like it when they don’t ask too much of me. I am not a joiner or a loner, just a seeker of the divine. Maybe I am the divine. I think I could have been a prophet if I would have just listened more to the voices, but I didn't. The voices, the ones that speak between levels of consciousness. I drift awake, drift asleep, they speak, they whisper, they thank me for my hospitality. We need the room, you provided the space. They thank me for the fuel that I provide. They ask for another, I pour a drink, down it, then another.
Recognizing those crazy moments of madness, that is bliss. That is what pure consciousness must feel like.
