Cuz, I'm high on life, ya dig it?
I'm so focused on the moment - this task right here of typing the words that you're reading - that I could die and it wouldn't matter, I don't have one pico-second to give to any thoughts of fear. Nope. I'm too damn engaged in the indescribable joy and sense of infinite possibility that I can feel all around me and inside of me, right now....NOW*.
You see?
How did I get here?
What a joke of a question! You're here too, ya dummy. Perhaps you just don't realize it at the moment.
You're higher than frick right now. You're higher than a kite on sunny, cloudless day. There's a part of you that's dancing, right now...no, you don't get it...like, RIGHT now. In fact, it's happening ALL THE TIME inside of you. Yes, there's this little guy, or gal, inside of you bobbing his/ her head up and down playfully, for no good reason, only because it feels good...because, why not feel good?
FREEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM !
You're high on freedom, but, perhaps, you're also drugged down on illusion, or what some call game-consciousness. That's ight. It's okay to play games for a time. Just know that you can't live in a fairy-tale world forever. You can't keep pretending like you ain't all that and a bag of chips.
Worry
I like to worry too from time to time. I even like to worry about worrying. It's a fun game! I even like to get myself lost in it and pretend like I'm some little, scared, victim in a cruel world. But I'm so drawn to the high of the truth that I can't force myself to stay there for long. Games are just for fun. "Adults" are just for games. We're all children, in truth.
There's this little song that I've always been drawn to
It's called Freedom, and I don't mean the one sang by one George Michael. This song is both song and dance, simultaneously. It's shapes and colors in almost random movement, with mere moments of seeming order and meaning. There's these funny characters whom think that they have things "under control" - they appear to those in the real know like Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd, good only for a good 'ol belly laugh - pure entertainment.
Flow
I don't know why. I don't care the reasons. Is there causation? Order?
Mere words and concepts. I've got them, just like you. Plenty of words and thousands of concepts, many of which overlap, mix, and merge with others. Oh, I see 'em...and I intelligently slide right away from them in the most absurd, yet joyous and free, dance.
Just for fun, I'll do a little Michael Jackson-esque, crab the crotch and spin-move, and then moon-walk away from thoughts and worries as I flash them a cocky smile and and pound some thumb-ups to the beat of my joyous rhythm, so much more intoxicating than any instrumental music, even whilst under the influence of the sundry drugs available for smoking and sniffing and shooting and bla, bla, bla...I'm bored with this already.
Back to the dance
There are infinite notes of eternal beauty between two spoken words of lyric. I can hear them ALL, echoing forever, through infinite space.
I've seen the big bang play out inside of a teardrop. I saw all of time, from the moment of the big bang to present, before that tear collapsed on the floor. I've heard God speak to me through the words "nothing but a gangsta party...", uttered by the one and only Tupac Shakur. Then I've destroyed that God by moon-walking away from this concept, too.
I don't care...I'm free. I ain't going anywhere. I CAN'T go anywhere, even if I tried, even if Satan gave me all of his powers. Yes, moon-walk with thumbs up away from even the evil spirits, I do...and talk like Yoda, I can.
Free
Like a waterfall. Like a bird. Like a child empty of the FUD spread by their parents and society.
Walking in the air. Air Jordan got nothing on me! Helium balloons got nothing on me! Higher than a kite. Watch me burn away in the atmosphere as I flash you a friendly middle finger, laughing out loud in total insanity, or is it "total clarity of mind"?
Who cares?
Worry is game. It can fall away in an instant. Some will hit a pipe to make it go away - it waits at the door for the "come back". Other, more intelligent types, will use their own inherent powers to just let it go, allowing it to be the B.S. problem that it really is - "bye, bye old friend."