Le Fou et l'Ocean de doulear

Dear K,

I have a new resolve.

I'm going to do this. I'm going to move on. I'm steeling myself now. I'm going to make the choice to neither speak nor write of her. I've indulged too much in the bitter drink of sorrow. In my life I have come to enjoy the taste. It is odd how one can acquire a taste for heartache, like black bitter coffee. I drink in heartache like wine. I drink it in a garden staring up at the moon thinking of what was and what may be.

Did you know that it does not matter either way? That what was will happen again, and that what will be has already happened, and will happen again and all of it is all true. Everything is in the cycle. Everything is bound to the wheel. Even our universe will die, and then live and then die and then live, and we within it will live and die an unknowable number of times, and all of this does not matter because the only truth is the present. Did you know this? I'm sure you did. You're very clever.

I've decided on my first tattoo. I'm going to get a tarot card tattooed on me. The Fool. Because I am a fool, more than anything else. I am a fool, and there is a kind of wisdom in being a fool. It is a good thing to be a fool, it is fertile soil to grow in. I believe that I am on a journey. I am in progress, and that I will trip and stumble and make God laugh until the very end, when I'll probably go out with a big fart. I'll wear ashes in my hair and rags to the brightest dinners and a tuxedo to sleep in the alley. I'll throw away gems for apple cores and hold them up to the sun saying look how they shine and shine as they rot in my hands. I am a fool.

Bhudda says there are four types of horses. There is the horse that as soon as you jump in the saddle begins galloping off to where you want to go. The second horse needs only for you to grasp the reins lightly and gently. The third horse needs a gentle kick and a tug of the reins and will obey your commands. The fourth horse will struggle and kick and will need to be beaten with a lash until it's flanks are bloody and bone is showing in the wounds before it will move. I am like the fourth horse. We are all like the fourth horse. It is good to be the fourth horse. There is purpose in it.

Meher Baba was a Persian-Indian mystic popular in Hollywood in the 1930's. He took a vow of silence and spoke with an alphabet board and hand signs. He invited High Society women to come to his ashram and they did by the bus load, to scandal and scorn back home. Later in the 50's and 60's he demanded that twenty of his followers join him on a never ending pilgrimage. They must fill their hearts with hopeless helplessness, and be cheerful about it. No matter what difficulty they encountered they were to be cheerful in resolving it. They were to overcome sickness and death and hunger and thirst and pain and fever and flies and rainstorms and sharp rocks and broken bones with song and laughter.

I am convinced this is the way of things.

For now.

That is the advantage of being a fool, you can always realize that you are being fooled. It is much better than being wise or smart.

Le Fou,

K