[ out of a meditative trance last week ]
Why should I listen to my elders? The young-becoming-man asks the shaman in the jungle. Jaguars near in interest. It is neither his shaman nor his jungle but the question, who am I, is his.
Yes, the question is his.
Who is the elder of your elders? The shaman asks and spits a red juice on a log the snakes avoid. They are many vines to climb and tangle as the two brothers follow the question and back through time.
"The One Without A Second"
And why should you listen to "The One Without A Second"?
How can I not? The "I" is within its context. The "I" floats in a Salt Lake of gratitude.
The young-becoming-man draws fences and barricades and labyrinths and subducation faults for the columns of faithful ants with a single toe.
And if my elders somewhere when why forgot or misheard their own elders?
Do you trust your innocence more than their misunderstandings? Your elders are a clay vessel bewtween you and the fire of "The One Without A Second". The are the only net between high and low. They are the reed and you beneath the water in the Great Sweet Lake. They are the media. They are here to guide and to protect you from the ardent truth.
I don't want to be protected from the Truth. I want to be burned.
You will be. Burned. Broken. Drowned. Go ahead! Choose your own spouse, make your own path, make your own jewelry. You give up nothing and will have no one to blame. Nothing between you and destiny. Between you and joy. Between you and terror. You will be burned.
back to mangolandia.