Ask Dr. Druid . Day 4
This piece will grok better for you if you read it
with your mouth as if out loud.
[Ask Dr. Druid is designed to begin at the beginning. Click here.]
Jolly Ing is one of the few elves left in the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />New World. You didn’t know there’d ever been any? Well, perhaps you don’t quite know it all after all? Ha. Ha.
Jolly’s brother, Chortle Ing, Esq., Chort, for short, is known far and wide for dancing, romancing, and chancing.
You have that dubious rational look I hate. Yes, I’ve met them myself or I wouldn’t be telling you this tale. They are my zards. Zards are a cross between wizards and bards who teach a lucky few the astonishing joys of Ing. Jolly Ing is 4' 8″ tall, not as portly as Chort, but a stout fellow nonetheless. His face is a glossy beardless chocolate hue, his eyes a dappled forest-glade hazel, his hair as russet as a robin’s breast.
The Ing are a guild of gerund folk who teach that all that exists, from a stone to a clown juggling four balls and a dinner plate, is a verb, nouns being only a convenience of language, not truth. It’s all alive, living, throbbing. I spell this out to appease your Rational Dubious Self. The Ings explain little and show much.
To decide whether I was enough fun to be apprenticed, fluid and druid enough of mind, I had to spend days ing-ing. I had to put i-n-g on every word I thought and said. I-ing am-ing eating chocolat-ing for-ing breakfast-ing. Verb think. More rightly put: verbing thinking.
As much as we might wish for a break, wish to just stand still, we can not. Living is an irrevocable process-ing. The sea ceaselessly sloshes. There is no way out, however persistently we pout. Y’may as well swim.
You feel panic when you first learn the verbing lesson. The wild energy of life blows through you like a hurricane. Jolly Ing taught me how to get into the eye of my own hurricane, to feel the energy but not get blown over. After awhile the energy gets savory and comforting–just as you cannot stop, you also cannot in fact get stuck. You may, and many do, become brilliant at sequential stubbornness and serial sulks, but you actually have to work at it, it is not the universe’s natural modus operandi.
Chortle showed me many of noun think’s evils, or stupid sadnesses as he called them. No plurals or collective nouns actually exist. No plurals or collective nouns actually exist. There are no giraffes — only one giraffe + one giraffe + one giraffe. There are no gooks, no men, no women, no ethnic blurs. Ah, betrayed again by my beloved language. In truth, we must consider each one, one at a time.
Jolly said that language is a splendid and useful tool as long as we do not imagine that it displays the truth. Here he would say to me slyly, poking me annoyingly in the ribs, “How fast you forget, my little turtle dove,” his hazel eyes glinting like a splash of sun off a pool in a forest glade, “Not truth, but true-ing!” He would guffaw. Chort, of course, would chortle. The Ings are certainly bloody exasperating. They did show me though how to feel the heartbeat in each living thing, its pulse, its scent, its flavor. They introduced me to the companionship of the whole world.
It was at first daunting. Heeded, every thing had a story to tell. The world positively chatted, gossiped, jabbered at me. Undrugged by anything but air, I was drunk with stunning sensation, poetic overload. It also all writhed which was shall we say disconcerting. Jolly taught me to steady the writhing to a pleasing shimmer or radiance and to turn the cacophony tuneful. “Blink,” he’d say. Apparently the poets who go mad, stare — forget to blink.
Afraid perhaps that the glory will go away, is a trick, a ruse, a lie. The Big Lie. They try Religion, drugs, drink, anything to pry open the Door to Wonder. Jolly likes to say, “I am a lert–being a lert is all that’s necessary. A lerting.”
As you traverse from a narrower, self-absorbed quantum level of energy to consistently more complex levels of energy, you will have to manage the abun-dance of new and often mischievous energy. As you weave a greater outsight with your insight, you'll have to adjust to running on a higher octane of perception. Say hurray and press on, regardless.
More Notes: I recommend re-reading Ing-ing once a week as we go along. It will always unfold new delights for you. As you open your 3rd, 4th, and 5th eyes, as it were, the layers of this cake of a story will become more apparent to you.
//I worked with a guy who used enormous quartz crystals and led lights and music. Above the middle of each of his eyebrows you could clearly see the striking development of these 4th & 5th eyes. Of course it sounds bizarre, but we're used to telescopes and microscopes now which would have seemed bizarre and magical to the earlier studiers of realities. People who train and define and refine their exquisite, portable necktop computers oughtn't be trashed until you've tried training, defining, refining.
//My drug of choice is air because I prefer my chemicals to work at my whim rather than have myself at the beck & call of the various tyrannies of the chemicals. Not to say that you couldn't impudently declare that I'm at the whim of 73% dark chocolate, Fage yogurt, Santa Cruz Dark Roast organic peanut butter, Grace Bros Pugliese, and 10 cups of organic darjeeling a day.
//title image, piece of thiebaud lollipops.
Ask Dr. Druid, 66 Days from Lead to Gold, Secrets of Alchemy You Can Use, a druid shaman’s playbook .. Intro; Prologue; Day 1; Days 2 & 3; Day 4; Day 5; Day 6; Day 7; Day 8; Day 9; Day 10; Day 11; Day 12; Day 13; Day 14; day 15 Review 2; Day 16; Day 17; Day 18; Day 19; Day 20; Day 21; Day 22; Day 23; Day 24; Day 25; Day 26; Day 27; Day 28; Day 29;
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1 Monkey . Chuen . Raccoon . West . tzol 131 03.14.07 wed