We live in a paradoxical cosmos. Sometimes the contradictions are transparent, but on other occasions they lied buried in the mud of all that gets discarded in daily garbage mills. Yet garbage is just as life giving as sterile blood. What it produces can either be recycled or used to fertilize new growth.
A case in point, the recent rush to find self-realization through Oprah's Book Club or Big Gives, or a hybrid vehicle, or essential Omega 3 Oils, or solar panels, or political hope, or LA weight loss, or the Final Four, or Income tax rebates, or being an American Idol, or Meeting the Press, or America's Next Top Model, or Viva Viagra, or Making the Playoffs, or Rollover minutes, or Air Miles, or great tasting, less filling, Constitution loving, Star Spangled, truth-telling, yes I can dance consciousness.
But seriously folks, why do my landing gear retreat when the way to Nirvana is again on the New York Times best-seller list. Could it be *The Myth of the Eternal Return, like Godzilla or the Bride of Frankenstein waiting to take you away, and your money, and your mind?
How many versions of Cinderella are there?
How many parallels to a virgin birth?
How many roads must we walk down?
Before we realize the Existential Dilemma doesn't care what you are wearing.
Before we learn from our own experience that being in the now is something we
resist naturally until the paradox kicks in with assistance from our very own feet.
And in the end...
It's all Bueno;
I don't care how you get there, just go.
*M. Eliade
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