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Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Weighting for De-Grow

January 23, 2013:  Never one to fixate on weight, except in other people, I suddenly find myself struggling with this ungainly—if you’ll forgive the rather clever pun—subject. I’m reminded because it’s all I can do at this moment to not wrap my hotdogs in several buns each, all in order to satisfy the hunger that envelopes me and, simultaneously, attempts to assuage—if you’ll forgive the rather clever pun—my gaping god hole (as Wendy Mole so eloquently references it in the novel “Space Case”) …

I’m frightened to report that I’m at an all-time high with regard to my ever-increasing fatness. This is funny, because I’ve actually never looked better, at least that’s what many people keep telling me lately, although most of them are people I’ve never met before. But I know this has to do with my ongoing spiritual development, which seems to be proportionately linked to how much I’m eating. I think this is why Buddha was so fat, and Jesus, after he went out on his own, was known to just gorge himself on chickpeas and halvah. So, really, if I can let go of the societal-imposed ideals and negative messages, I’m really in a very centered place, although it’s a fat place, centered in whipped cream and doughnuts. The problem is understanding—or misunderstanding; I don’t really care which—that it’s not so much a gluttonous pursuit of sensual satisfaction that drives me, but a spiritual quest for more peace and more potatoes.

Somehow toward this subject—though I won’t be entirely sure how until I’m finished with this sentence—a friend of mine who’s apparently decaying rapidly has come to recognize that her failing eyesight, as she plummets into the unforgiving abyss of aging, is proving to be a remarkable gift. She sees—if you’ll forgive the rather clever pun—that all these awful examples of her imminent decay are meaningless and unimportant because her eyes are worse and she can’t see them as well—the decays I mean, not her eyes. This is brilliant, of course, and I identified with my own experience and discoveries. In fact, there’s a good chance I discovered it first, but she just hounded in for the credit, which is very like her. But no matter, for the soft-focus on my vision keeps me from bothering to claim victories, or even see what’s really going on—both here and abroad. And so the very physical maladies that approach me turn out to be a lovely means for physical denial. God knows I’ve lived in emotional and mental denial for so many years, isn’t it about time to have some physical denial as well? This is the same soft vision that enables me to overlook the rampant growth of hairs in my ears, mainly because I can’t see them. Of course if my vision were better, I might stand to notice them, but then if my vision were better, I wouldn’t be sprouting so many hairs in the first place.

This is sound circular thinking, of course, and explains—dare I even say justifies—the reasoning behind my new weight gain, (if you could even call it that; some would say I look great and the addition of a few fatty pounds is just my body’s way of making more room for the bountiful spiritual growth I’m enjoying) …

And now I don’t remember where I started. Let’s just say, I’d like to lose a few pounds, but I simply too good a person to do it.