Some Days the Stupid Man suit fits just fine. Feels good. Maybe it's the barometric pressure, the dew point, the alignment of the Stars, the chemistry inside of the brain. Hard to know.
Maybe it's that I started the day listening to Curtis Mayfield's "Superfly Soundtrack?" Nothing. Better.
"Everything in it's right place." - Thom Yorke
No Jesus in America sighting. And that's just fine. I wasn't really looking for him (them). Makes me think he is out there (both of them), doing something exciting, enriching, inspiring, transforming. That would be perfect.
Yesterday was just one of those days where being conscious, having consciousness, was so fulfilling, sexy, cool, enlivening. Makes you wonder if consciousness is something inside or "out there?"
Is it something we develop, evolve, or is it something we connect to, tap into? I know greater minds than mine have contemplated, thought and explicated that great conundrum. Think: The Austere Appeal of Panpsychism
"For every inside there is an outside, and for every outside there is an inside; though they are different, they go together." —Alan Watts, Man, Nature, and the Nature of Man, 1991
I just tripped along and did my thing yesterday. And it seemed right. Not a slog. Not a burden. Sort of a rambling adventure. Nothing major happened. No drama or trauma. Being a Spirit in Stupid Man Suit seemed just right.
