I awoke to find that I was not in the slightest bit different at all. Not one wit.
What an infinitely infuriating and disappointing turn of events. *sigh*
I picked up my phone, accidentally opened instagram, scrolled mindlessly, admiring scantly clad women, before I finally came to myself (not sure who took over there), and checked the date. It was definitely the first.
New year, same old me, and not even 24 hours removed from the previous round. A new record! Strangely, the comings and goings of the Gregorian calendar had little bearing on (what might generously be called) my character. What a shame. None of these extraneous measures (aka forms of spiritual bypass) seemed to quite do the trick. My shadow, as ever, patiently awaited my indulgence, if only I were to extend a passing gaze toward the poor fellow strewn on the ground behind me.
As the old saying goes: If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. But that brings us to origin of all my problems, in the first place; I don’t really want to do much of anything, not nearly as much as I’d rather do absolutely of nothing. So, another year of “quiet desperation”, then is it?
If the present moment, regardless of its colloquial import (i.e. happy new year’s friends) couldn’t deliver me from my insufferable predicament, perhaps a little time travel could? At least I’d be somewhere different. It’s a poor start, but you have to begin somewhere (else, ha).
Anyway, please Indulge me, if you will… I transport myself by way of imagination to a future period, exactly one year hence and watch myself playing out the same living nightmare scenario. One more solar return and I could (and probably will) be writing this redundant blog post yet again. What an outrageous way to live! If you can call it that. Remove me from this place Ghost of new year’s future! I can’t bear this shit!
I ponder over the unappetising dregs scattered before me: a veritable buffet of plodding, overcooked, mediocrity. This will never do. It feels like I’ve tried practically everything though. I’ve even been desperate enough to ask God for help, but he seems quite content to observe mostly passively from the sidelines.
He’s a fair weather fan, the capricious bastard! Only ever offering up the most trifling tokens of support: “I can’t do it for you, you ignominious reprobate! That would defeat the whole purpose of your being here.” he scoffs, with all the confidence of a narcissistic absentee father.
Thanks for the pep talk, creator of the mother fucking universe! Go to team g— I trail off.
Wait, team?!?
Inspiration sometimes strikes in the most mysterious of ways, which is after all God’s standard modus operandi. I suppose the big guy’s not so bad after all. His non-interventionist ways have finally paid off. I’ve been overcome by the holy spirit and I’m now on the verge of spewing absolute nonsense as I stand triumphantly on a ship that sailed long before you ever started reading this passage (here be monsters ?).
But where was I? Oh yes, I am a team! A disparate, hodgepodge of conflicting instincts and desires bundled together for the general entertainment of our maker. And did he not himself say: “A house divided against itself cannot prosper!” No wonder I’m so fucked.
But also… I’m a team, just like God, he’s a trinity and I’m like a googolplex, but I feel we can build on this commonality. We are both walking contradictions, because we’re both individuals and groups at the same time. Suddenly so much makes sense: he prays to himself to deliver himself from doing what he know he needs to do (sound familiar?). “He sacrifices himself, to himself to save us from himself!” Brilliant! I experience these types of internal struggles all the time. On a totally unrelated note I just need to quickly check instagram.
Yes! I’m a team! Like Whitman said: “Within me are multitudes.” “I am legion!” (Oops I think that last one comes the wrong team) ?
TBC: Goodbye spiritual bypass, hello Mr. Shadow (and friends). Introducing IFST ?