I've Been Chosen

Mornings I walk through Brunswick Forest where I enjoy the magic of a summer day. The limitations of yesterday are forgotten and my surroundings are an earthly paradise. The lagoons shine like pools of silver, rabbits dart in and out of the rhodendrons, and as far as the eye can see contented dogs lead their administrative assistants along the trails.

I walk with purpose and assurance because I'm fully engaged in my new role of Extra. Remember the recent discussion with Ms. Wonder about my purpose in life? If you missed it, I'd look it up if I were you. But if you're short of time, the gist is that I'm not the star of the show. I'm not even the humorous best friend. I'm simply an extra who is asked to do nothing more than show up on time and perform the prescribed activities.

Many of you, my followers that is, are asking why I no longer collect soul vessels. I understand your concern, what with the prophecy in the Big Book of Death about the Underworld Darkness getting all uppity and rising to take over the Above. 

Yes, it's an alarming prophecy, I'm not denying it, but things got so out of hand with so many soul vessels going uncollected, that I finally had to face the truth; the job is far too big for the few of us that are left.

Once I accepted that we were all doomed and nothing to be done about it, I became depressed like the dickens and my anxiety levels equaled that of the cat in the adage. I'm sure you feel it too.

I spoke to my therapist about it and now she's depressed. And Princess Amy makes it even worse. Every time I check in with her, I find her with eyes the size of dinner plates, wringing her hands and shouting, Run for your life!

Fortunately, I found an article in Vanity Fair, written by P.G. Wodehouse, my virtual mentor and spiritual guide. The article, entitled, The Physical Culture Peril, concerns the mistake of valuing physical reality over spiritual.

I suppose that's what the piece is about. I haven't actually read it; I skimmed it and read the pertinent parts. Mr. Wodehouse, or Plum as his friends call him, convinced me to order a small, illustrated booklet that would provide instructions for escaping the peril mentioned above.

After reading the booklet, an event of synchronicity led me to Christoper Moore's book, Dirty Job, where he described the activity of the main character. That description introduced me to the true role that I'm meant to perform.

And now I'm a different man. Little by little I have immersed myself into the new job. Now I smile at everyone I meet and offer a hearty Good morning. 

If I’m addressed by someone on my rounds, instead of trying to get away as quickly as possible, I listen attentively and make courteous replies, in short, I’m agreeable as all get out. And although I don’t make a habit of it, I've been known to slap backs and shake hands. I feel better for it and so do they.

There are exceptions. Aren't there always? Not everyone is appreciative of my new behavior. Some people ignore me or give me hard looks and, naturally, my new behavior has lost me a few friends.

And so there you have it. The full gist of the thing. My new calling and I like it.

Isn't it incredible how these metaphysical principles are manifested? I mean, the book, Dirty Job, was the source of my mistaken belief that I was a Soul Merchant. Now that same book has shown me that in fact, I'm Born to be Mild. And that's why I have dedicated myself to spreading goodness and light everywhere I go.

Will it save us from the prophecy in the Big Book of Death? No. But it makes me and the people I meet feel a little bit better about darkness taking over. We still may one day find ourselves wishing that we were dead but at least now we can hope for a good day for it.

Question Everything Like a Fox

I sometimes surprise people with my picture of reality and my version of the truth. The reason, I believe, is that I was taught to see life through the eyes of my father and through the lessons taught to me by Fox.

“Question everything.” 

~~ Euripides (480 BCE - 406 BCE)

I was reluctant to go so far as to say I'm fortunate to have been guided by Trickster, and yet to say anything less would be misleading. 

“Re-examine all that you have been told.” 

~~ Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)

The Trickster is recognized in many different disguises in cultures around the world. For example, he is Hare to my Creek and Cherokee ancestors; Fox to my Celtic ancestors of Britain and Britanny. He is Coyote to the Indians of the American southwest and he's Anansi, the Spider, in Ashanti and Yoruba cultures of West Africa. 

No matter what form he takes, he’s always a thief and a liar; he's the patron of wanderers and the lost; and in his most interesting form, to me at least, he guides the souls of the dead into eternity.

"Red hair, in my opinion, sir, is very dangerous."

~~P.G. Wodehouse, Very Good Jeeves

The last time I journeyed to the spirit world with Fox was in that automobile accident a few years back. It wasn't really Death who brought the image of Death's Doors, but Fox in the guise of Ferryman, the one who transports the dead across the River Styx in Greek mythology. 

That's Fox for you, always irreverent and joking around no matter what he’s up to.

 

"It's always when a fellow is feeling braced 

with things in general that Fate sneaks up 

behind him with a bit of lead piping.

~~ P.G. Wodehouse, Jeeves and the Unbidden Guest

Being shepherded through life by Trickster isn’t always a satisfying experience but it isn’t as bad as you might think. Yes, he is subversive, which is always unpopular, and his schemes sometimes backfire landing him and me in the soup. 

The short of being tutored by Fox is that I'm not always good and noble. I may be the hero of my personal life story but I have my off moments. Still, my virtual mentor, P.G. Wodehouse wryly observed: 

"Everything in life that's fun is either immoral, illegal, or fattening." 

“Teachers hated to see me in class because they knew I'd question everything.” 

~~ Carl Jirlds (1922 - 1992)

Fox, I believe was also my father's personal guide and that's probably why I'm so much like my dad. Dad taught me to question everything rather than follow blindly along with the crowd. He was the kind of shepherd who nudged his son off the familiar path and out into the wilderness because that’s where our own true path is found.

My feelings for Fox are very much like the feelings I have for my father. I admire and respect them both but have a healthy little bit of distrust at the same time. It's a difficult dichotomy to explain, probably because I don't really understand it myself. 

“The important thing is not to stop questioning.” 

~~ Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955)

I can't imagine a more fitting spirit guide for someone on the path of self-improvement, nor can I imagine a more fitting father for a son, but I confess that I'm biased because for better or for worse, I've become fond of them both.

I haven't seen Fox since the day of that traffic accident. I've searched without success but eventually accepted that he's gone, at least for a while. I think of him often but have little hope that I'll see him again. After a lifetime of getting used to his tricks and lies, I find that I miss him.

My new guides have no shortcomings. I am grateful for their help, their guidance, and their compassion. But I miss you, Fox. I miss your tricks and your lies, and mostly I miss your laughter.

Be well, my friend. I will always remember our time together and I will never stop looking for you.