Part One
I was always looking for God myself. I finally got the meet God and talk it all out in 2007 thanks to psilocybin mushrooms, but that is another story. I mean that is what I was interested in primarily and what I have mostly doing in life. Very Sagittarius, must say. Well, that and romantic love, and sure, mixed the two up, no bones about it. Goddess worship could not come more naturally to me. I never was much up for sports. I tried to get it up for politics but damn just can't do it, I mean, I'd rather be poked in the eye with a sharp stick than watch another minute of cable TV News. All that to emphasize that I would have never in a million years figured that The Universe was a “male” entity and a drunk, at that! And please do not yell at me about this situation not like I made it up or have any control over it, just found it this way, OK.
So here's the deal, I finally found The Universe drinking heavily late one cold winter's afternoon in a dive bar about half way between Santa Fe and Taos, New Mexico near the Rio Grande River. ( I know, right, who would have thunk it?) Now of course The Universe is not God but it came to me that it is The Universe who primarily is in charge of the nuts and bolts administration of reality, as it were. Think of God as the owner of a private corporation and The Universe as the CEO. So you can go to The Universe and see if (He) can help work things out and then, if not, well, you take it up the chain of command to The Owner. So that is a metaphor maybe not a good one but goddamn original, give me that, and all to say that it´s a process, man, a process.
If you have qualms about the feminist implications, and I understand, do not bother The Universe with it, He doesn´t want to hear it, trust me on that one. Take that shit up with “The Owner”.
Part Two
The sunlight outside is preposterously bright but the air is so cold that a half inch of old snow lies unmelted on the cactus even in the full light of a frigid afternoon sun. Inside the bar is darkness heated by a wood stove and the air so bone dry that your nose hairs start to burn after a while and when it's quiet enough – which I it never is! - you can hear your own skin crinkling up. There is a faint stench of urine. Anyone who lives here for any length of time ends up with skin looking like worn out leather. The Universe is sitting at the small bar alone, skin sure enough looks like worn out leather, I note, a big German looking guy, narrow waist, broad shoulders, not an ounce of fat, maybe mid thirties, I'd guess, running big, bony fingers through thinning, dirty blonde hair in the bad light when I first set eyes on Him. I am shocked and taken aback, not going to lie. Reality is so much different than I ever imagined.
I sit next to Him and introduce myself and The Universe nods and smiles politely, says, “hey” but does not identify Himself or even look up. I tell the bartender to bring two of what He is having and make it doubles and The Universe smiles turning to me with a toast, “to you, Mate”, he says in an Aussie accent, to my delight.
Good thing for me in this one case that I know my alcoholics. Long story short, by the age of seven, I could tell a mean drunk from a happy drunk or sad drunk with little more than a glance in their eyes. The Universe is a morose alcoholic who passes through a euphoric phase, I determine, and I hope that he was still in the euphoric phase. I am thinking that when He hits that morose phase, I want to be miles away from this place. It is a very weird but not unknown feeling to me having more than I have liked been around dangerous men who had to be handled like undomesticated pets that are amazing creatures often but could turn on you in an instant and eat your face off. Don´t judge is my motto and advice, frankly, sure you can do what you want, but it is what it is and The Universe literally has the weight of the world on His shoulders. If you think about it, managing the daily nuts of bolts of reality is no job for that “Nice Guy” – The Universe has to be able to make some pretty tough decisions and then live with them, if you know what I mean. Same as any CEO, really, have to be at least half a sociopath for these kind of jobs.
After our drinks come, a single malt Scotch, I discover, neat, I ask of Him as casually as I can manage, “so why did you take advantage of a Walk-In body, Universe. What was it suicidal guy, guessing?”
His drink stops half way up to His lips. I could see calculation flash across His face for just a beat then He says, non nonchalantly as you may please, “good guess, a suicide case, yes” downing the rest of His drink then slamming the empty glass down the counter, “load me up,” He tells the barkeep in a cheerful, friendly tone. It makes me think of that guy Steve Irwin. I really like that Steve Irwin.
"You're buying, my new Friend," the universe winks. We both know that it is not a question and He is determined to show no surprise that I recognize Him.
"I'd insist on it," I reply. I note that he doesn't go into why he had entered the body of this suicidal fellow but let that go even though it is a curiosity. Not my real concern here and the clock is ticking.
I saw that I would have to jump in for The Universe was about to cross that threshold from euphoria to morose any time now by my calculations - “I want to know about God,” I ask, “anything You can tell me?”.
He starts laughing then coughing so hard that my thought was He might throw up then after this paroxysm settled down said, “don't we all, Mate, don't we all”, in his Steve Erwin voice very much amused.
“Seriously?” I insist.
Without looking at me then, The Universe says matter of fact, “the closest thing to what you humans conceive of as “God”, is light. so then insofar as I could answer such preposterous question, the answer is light. Everything is light, Mate. Everything is light passing through light, on and on and on – do you see?”
Turning to look at me with those eyes as He asks, “Do you see?”
“I guess so,” I say.
“No you don´t see it,” He laughs again like it is really funny, “you see me but you don´t see the light yet. Well, there´s your job now, Mate. Don´t you want something, a wish or something, that´s usually where this goes?”.
I suppress an urge to flee asking instead, “to be clear then, you are not actually saying that light IS God or that God IS light?”.
The Universe downs another glass and it hits the thick, wooden bar with an empty bang. I see Him starting to approach that threshold and practically run for the door after tossing three twenties on the bar. Over my shoulder almost, I call back, “I want true love, Universe, that´s all I ever really wanted, the one of open heart who is right and true for me as I am right and true for her!”.
The last thing I hear before the door closes behind me, looking straight up into the bright, cold winter sun stabbing my eyes, is The Universe saying out loud to no one, maybe the bartender, with weary cynicism, “Fucking Romantics, man” and laughing.
I leave Him there in the growing shadow cast by the steep canyon walls around the little dive bar hauling ass in my Jeep back up a short cut on a narrow rocky road cut through the canyon walls climbing two thousand feet in elevation over a relatively few miles quickly to the 8,000ft tableland on the western side of the Rio Grande River where is my home and up on eastern escarpment, once out of the deep shade of the canyons, it is only late afternoon and still bright daylight out. It feels like a different world and I take a real breath again.
“The closest thing to what you humans conceive of as God, is light” … it makes sense in some way to me that is as of yet far beyond articulation?
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