At 5:20pm, I pulled into the quiet leafy suburban enclave I live in, and as I wove my way through the gentle curvy streets, I burst out laughing at the magic of it all.
I'd left Hiveworld and its nest of cubicles, its audit hangover, at 5. Then stopped by the liquor store to get some of the cherry flavored vodka the hilarious coworker told me about. Then onward to the zippy mart. Bought diet SunDrop, a bag of vinegar and salt chips, and a $2 scratch-off. Chugged a few sips of the soda so that I could empty the freebie mini bottle of green apple flavored vodka that came with the cherry vodka. And as I sat blinking in the bright Carolina sun, feeling the love of TGIF, the zippy mart parking lot delivered fine tv: the construction dudes exit the store with their tallboys, their packs of smokes. I used the little plastic scraper thing the clerk had just gifted me with and checked to see if I'd won any cash. Not this time. I smiled. Looked at the colorful decorations of the scratch off. Thought about the folks whose job it was to come up with designs, to print them, to collect and collate the data on the winnings, the chances of winnings, the distribution of who buys what when. Then I drove off into the subdivision, a little lit as I'm still not used to alcohol, especially not when it's still daylight outside, swigging at the soda with the extra special goodie treat inside.
And what got me laughing, and kept me laughing was how the life I'm living would have horrified the me of just a few years ago, how I would have judged it as sad and unspiritual, banal and pointless. But how joyful I am, how every day, even the ones filled with pain and funk, are so frakkin gorgeous my eyes mist up. I laughed because I understand at a deep level that my life is forfeit, that "I" died last year, and the me that goes on is relaxed enough so that I flow from one to the next, the bumps are softer, and the water is so warm and feels so good.
My life is forfeit! And I am so dang grateful!
I'm not saying I'm enlightened. I'm saying that I simply don't care anymore. I'm saying that having a cocktail in the zippy mart parking lot is as deep and meaningful as ashtanga yoga with my ass in the air and incense wafting in the breeze, as a lengthy Q&A with an enlightened dude, as being with the death of my beloved Hoon, as feeling outrageously awed at how my own death is coming for me, like a stripper out of a cake.
Life is good. If you were here right now I would make you a cocktail and we would watch the kitties chase the sunlight from window to window. I would fix you a grilled cheese and we'd talk about evolution and the coming extinction of life as we know it, the benefits and drawbacks of spring detoxes, and you could share with me how to make the perfect scrambled eggs.
And then, without saying goodbye, you would head off into the twilight, maybe til next time, maybe never to be seen again. And I would think: what an amazing life. What a crazy, lovely life . . .