on tortillas and octaves
so there i was, sitting on the floor of my bedless bedroom, listening to a playlist on youtube called video game music to float away to, and i thought to myself, it’s time to tell some jokes. the very thought made my legs itchy… me, scorsby j. glongingston, telling a joke??? it seemed like an entirely foreign concept… like i would have to unzip my skin suit and let someone, or something else entirely, come out. what would he… she… it look like? what would it say?
maybe they’d wear a zoot suit. maybe something like jim carrey’s “the mask” character. maybe he’d stand around people with a deadpan look in his eyes, and occasionally break the fourth wall with his unhinged musings on love and life. or maybe she’d make a lot of bad puns…
i once asked a mirror to tell me a joke… it just laughed at me. badum-tshhh!
the prevailing temptation of the evening (ain’t it funny how temptation always strikes in the evening?) was to drive to some late-night diner like denny’s to get pancakes. when i finally gave in and looked up pancakes on google maps, all the places were closed except the frontier, about a 20-minute drive from “my” “house”. what was i really seeking, beyond the pancakes? i thought. perhaps it was the craving for sweet ecstasy of self-realization, sublimated through my taste buds.
i went through the pantry and found the bag of wasabi seaweed i bought the other day. my dog (prince alexander) started to quietly moan as he observed me eating the wasabi seaweed, piece by piece. i handed him the occasional half-wasabi seaweed strip to soothe or perhaps encourage his pleas. i have since learned it is not good to feed your dog wasabi seaweed. i’m sorry, please forgive me, thank you, i love you.
after finishing the wasabi seaweed i still wasn’t satisfied, so i found a tortilla in the fridge, put some butter on it, then placed it directly on the hot stove top — no, that’s a bad idea, i thought — and microwaved it instead. i pretended the tortilla tasted like a pancake, and, surprisingly, it did.
❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎
yesterday i dug two holes in the backyard for my bare feet and buried them in the dirt, to help re-acquaint myself with the planet. i sat there for about ten minutes. it felt nice to be so grounded.
life for this scorsbington has taken a contemplative turn. grateful, grateful. i sleep when i’m tired, i wake when i’m inspired. i try to get in my 20 pushups and 20 squats when i can. i don’t have a strict diet, as you may have deduced. i’ve abandoned all rhyme and reason to instead abide by love’s next suggestion. but every once in a while i burn down central avenue with my 505 desert highway blues until i get to nob hill, then turn around and drive back. there’s always something more to renounce.
meditation is my tortilla and butter, the bees in my knees. chanting om 108 times (or anywhere, anytime) is never not worth the effort. they say the mind is restless without an aim, and i can certainly attest to this. my mind’s singular, perpetual aim is to realize itself, that i am here, everywhere, all the time.
maybe if we had humbled ourselves before our delphinic cousins, this aim would have arisen a lot sooner. but there’s no use feeling bad. what difference does it make if today we wear human suits and tomorrow those of bright burning stars? it’s all the same to me.
❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎
my favorite time of day (other than right here, right now) is between approximately 3:33 and 5:55 AM. this is when, for whatever reason, the deep, soul-aligning revelations and reverberations come effortlessly. i suppose this only makes sense, as these are the hours when collective awakening happens, when the earliest generative sunbeams are most new ‘n’ tasty.
this morning i received an intuitive download of harmonic octaves and how they form the underlying basis of reality. it’s hard to explain, but the transmission came through so clearly — specifically, the idea that certain frequencies, when directed repeatedly into a system, can nudge it across a resonant threshold — a sudden rearrangement or revelation, if the conditions are right… i looked up ‘octave waves’ on youtube, found a video that led me directly to walter russell’s book the universal one, and eagerly read the first twelve chapters. whatever i could say about the waves, mr. russell has already intuited, and with greater clarity and precision. what brilliant, forward-thinking, quantum-leaping understanding (especially for having been published in 1926, 99 years ago!!!) — i’m eager to read the rest.
there are so many interesting ideas to contemplate here: a sense that change follows a serpentine rather than binary geometry; that force and motion arise from the interplay between generative and radiating expressions; that the universe as we know it may not be infinite, but rather a finite, comprehensive totality… most of all, these intuitive insights reinforce my own sense that the only thing truly worth desiring is to be one with god/self/love/light/universe — its playful, powerful, peaceful presence. all else is noise — delicious, delightragic, ouroboric noise.
still, i feel the desire to share, to uplift, to inspire this truth of self-love in everyone and everything. my desire for god is ever-increasing, ever-insatiable, ever-indefatigable. my love ever-formless yet fortifying. my hunger ever-decreasing, my bliss ever-satiating, my happily ever after ever-aftering. i imagine an earth where everyone knows and identifies as christ, buddha, and every plant, animal, and star alike. where being light is obvious to all, and universal love is our guiding principle.
in the meantime, here’s a little joke for you:
what do tortillas and octaves have in common?
at 3:42 AM, don’t be surprised if they both start singing.
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