The sense that it was all made for you and me — our divine cosmic birthright — and how that exhilaration somehow becomes mundane, and what it means when it doesn’t.
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The musician-poet Elliott Smith said in the song “Pitseleh” that he has a joke he’s been dying to tell you: “No one deserves it.” Equal parts tragic and ecstatic.
Perhaps the thought isn’t so naïve — that the universe, the world, and the one successful tree-branch of survival in the history of life on this planet, and the surrounding resources and social infrastructure, not to mention the beauty and the majesty and the art and even the seemingly mere entertainment — to imagine, to dare to imagine, that it was all made for you and me. Our divine cosmic birthright.
We are standing on the shoulders of giants. It’s exhilarating, and somehow, bizarrely, becomes mundane now and then.
How? Because we just can’t take it — the full realization. It is the stuff that dreams are made of. Dreams and acid trips.
Then again, this is just another extension of the awe and gratitude principia. How can one possibly respond to such grandeur — and dare to diminish it, so we can breathe, so we can share, so we can go on even not knowing? (There is mystery, still. So much of that.)
Pronoia[brezsny-1]. (As opposed to “paranoia”) such everyday magnificence. Mere miracles abound.
Not to say that there aren’t natural and human evils, also. But in a way, the grand scope of things kind of makes these flaws — permissible? Understandable.
“But no!!!” (tiny sad face. The dew in your eyes. There can co-exist pain and grief even amongst all of this joy and gratitude!).
The human creature is an exquisite build of natural organic forces. No one deserves to suffer — sadness, violence, filth, disease, malady of any kind. We have this divine cosmic birthright. It’s kind of like the ecstasy and the laundry.[kornfield-1] We must share our unbelievable good fortune with our brothers and sisters. How could we not?
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