"I can't believe you. It's like something has misfired in that little squishy egg inside your head. I think you should check into getting rewired or something. Do you have good insurance?"
The Old Man was lecturing me. His moral outrage was part old-fashion and part his right as an old person. I mean I think there were moral sensibilities built into him that caused these sorts of sermons. But, I also think he just thought this was how he was supposed to speak to me--like he had earned it and even though he didn't want the free drink that comes with the meal of age, he was going to refill it as often as possible just to make it all worth it.
"I know. What do you want me to say? I told you, I agree with you."
God created it. What God created was quickly divided--the chaos that came from nothing was quickly classified--organized--and partitioned. Here, within the creation, the chaos was ordered and then disordered all too quickly. Whether that poor decision involving a reptile and some produce was planned or not, we shall never know. The point is that the disorder caused the partition--the primal partition--the original cubicle. We are now sat in a 3 sided space, with a desk that faces a temporary wall. Sitting, we face a wall mixed with appointment reminders, calendar items, extension numbers, account listings, a few pictures from last year's vacation, and a screen--a flickering, luminescent screen that is a portal into a world of sinful ones and zeroes.
"Why do you think you can do shit like this? I mean, who acts this way?"
"I don't know."
He was incensed. He stood up and paced to the counter of the Shop and back.
Well, that partition can't be crossed by either of us. Not by the Nothing that created the Nothing--to do so would be a compromise of the grandest proportions. And as good a conflict resoluter God is, he just can't bring himself to it. And not by us, either--the door to the boss's office is closed. We are here--in the swirling nothing, organized into a sham of institution, language, and other mortal economies. We are here. He is there. That is the important part.
From here, it is all a matter of intimacy. It is all this paradoxical, stupid try to get as close as we can to another--to somehow bridge that unbridgeable gap without dissolving ourselves into the other.
IT has all gone from nothing to chaos to a garden, and now to this paradox. Life is about getting as close as possible to one--to One or one--whatever you prefer, or can believe in, or see, or find. Some of us find the One. Some of us find one. Some of us find more than one, over and over again. Regardless, it comes to intimacy--to having an encounter in a place that is locked. It comes to having some-one (some-One) unlock the door that lies so deep that you can't get to it by yourself.
Let's get close, or pretend we don't want to. Let's meet--dance--speak--move--around, through, over, behind, and backwards. Let's use each other for intimacy and then move on. Let's believe in dual myths of the One that lead to the spiritual Bridegroom and a heavenly wedding. Let's stride--pace--and fight to get as close as possible . . . to pull the two sides of the strings--the ones fabricated from the chaos--so that they touch, even if it is just for one second at one point. Let's stretch the bungy chords of forgotten souls as far as they will go with the goal of hooking them up at the end.
Let's get close. Let's touch. Let's touch--show me the way to the most intimate part--I'll unlock it, believe me. Show me the way to the hidden valley--I'll put you at ease, peel the layers of chaotic sedimentation, and traverse the terra that is untrammeled and unseen. Let it out--let the place that is not a place out into the open--let's touch--let's see what we find . . .
The One? No, no. I'm not the One. Did you think? Oh goodness, this is a mix-up. My secret? My layers? No, no. I'm not going to do that. Did you think? Oh my, we are really on different planes here. Well, this is awkward. Maybe I should . . . well . . goodness.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"I don't know."
"You are a horrible human being."
"Thank you. That helps."
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