If Not For You?

On weekday mornings I Walk. It's capitalized because it's a spiritual practice. Around 9:00 am, after performing the cat chores--feeding, administering medication, and other routine caretaking, and after a light breakfast, I leave the as-needed care with Ms. Wonder. Then I head to Brunswick Forest to walk in the pines.

It's more than walking, of course. Those who know me best are aware that anytime you find the Genome underneath a leafy canopy, he will qigong. It's a spiritual thing. In fact, I do more than perform the ancient practice that originated in the Wudang Mountains of central China--I Fierce Qigong! Like the dickens! And I do it with my Kung Fu fighting cane!

I sometimes refer to this morning ritual as lost in let's remember because it makes me think of my younger days. You know what I mean.

When the weather is warm and dry my regalia includes the fighting cane, my Qigong Wellness t-shirt, from the martial arts academy that hasn't existed in over 14 years; and my competition taiji shoes, from my teaching days, which are long over; and I wear a golf glove to complete the outfit, to prevent losing my grip on the cane and beaning innocent bystander who only came to the park to air out the dog. 

Although I pretend to have some other purpose for being here, I'm actually here for the few minutes of meditation it allows. We both know that I'd come here just to watch the dogs enjoying their morning in nature. Makes me smile....

That's the essence of my regular morning walks but that's not what went down today. I was in a different dimension this morning. I was lost in thought and feeling about what it means to be a Soul Merchant.

Being out among the coastal people, when they were just beginning to move, greeting the morning, making ready to go about the mundane business of the day, I couldn't stop wondering if I'd soon deliver a soul vessel to one of them. 

It doesn't matter that I have no idea what I’m doing or whether or not I’m really doing anything, it just seems apparent that I’ve been chosen for the job. 

Uh oh! I'm so sorry about that. I've done it again. Jumped the rails and started talking about something that you've not been introduced to. I promise to do something about that in future posts.  For now, let me just say that all this stuff about Soul Merchants and whatnot is connected to Mom's Big Book of Death. 

Surely you remember Mom's book. We've talked about it enough. Still, I promise to clear up the whole shebang in the very next post. Watch for it because I don't have your number. I don't know how to get in touch with you other than The Circular Journey and I really need to be in touch with you. 

I've said it before and I mean it still, I don't know what I'd do without you!

As I was saying, it seems apparent that I've been chosen for the job. After all, someone has to do it. But my weakness is Princess Amy, of course. She seems to take on the role of the Morrigan (stay tuned) and she keeps throwing obstacles in my way. That can't be tolerated. 

As I went about my routine, doing the things I usually do every day even though I don't really feel up to it, I realized that it felt different this morning. I felt as though I had a real purpose, a reason to breathe the air and to take up space for a period of time. I realized that I was not dumbly going through the motions. I actually strutted. I felt like Mick Jagger on tour.

And so, when most of the dogs and their people were on the other side of the lake, I found a spot in the pine thicket with a small clearing bathed in bright sunlight. I got into qigong open position and raised my arms in a gesture known as lifting the sky, and then I closed my eyes and addressed that same sky in my loudest voice, saying, 

“I am the chosen one! So don’t mess with me today!” I said it with a lot of topspin because I wanted to make sure it stuck.

I was talking to Amy, of course, and it felt good. I stood there for several seconds, arms raised to heaven, eyes closed, and with the biggest smile that I could fit on my face. 

Talking to Amy is an inside job and isn't always understood by the public. When I finally looked around, I noticed that a few doggers were back on my side of the lake. 

One couple walking a poodle stared at me with exaggerated concern. Another guy and his terrier gave me a look that said they were considering their options for escape. The woman with the Plott Hound just kept walking forward, staring at the ground and making an effort to not look at me.

“Had to be done,” I said to all of them and to no one in particular. 

The first couple glanced at each other questioningly, the second couple called to their dogs. The woman with the Plott Hound gave me a quick glance and a furtive smile. And they all walked on. They seemed to understand being messed with, don't we all in the age of COVID? And they seemed to accept my way of dealing with the situation.

I never felt so vital. I absolutely tingled with energy. I finally understood why the living, when compared to the dead, are called the quick. I completed my walk around the lake enjoying the sense of irony, that until I became Death's assistant, I'd never felt so alive.