I’ve been doing a lot of beard stroking, pipe smoking, and pondering lately. You know, the deep stuff. Life gets real interesting when you feel like you’re living in the bonus round.
Did you ever play those old Nintendo games? You know, the ones where sometimes the cartridge wouldn’t work no matter how many times you jammed it into the slot? So you'd give it a little gamer CPR, breathing on it like you were resuscitating the thing. That’s what the universe just did to me. It took me out of the slot, shook me, gave me a good blow (get your mind out of the gutter), and popped me back in to make sure it wasn’t GAME OVER.
I feel like I’ve shifted into a new reality—got another chance to clear this level. The barrels and fireballs are still flying at me, but this time I’ve got a different perspective on what they are and what they actually do. Looking back, I laugh at the things I used to hold so tightly—ideologies, opinions, lifestyles. Now? I could care less about most of it.
Back in the day, I was all about ‘alternative’ music: Jane's Addiction, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Nirvana—classic four or five-piece bands with the usual drums, bass, guitar, and a singer. I’d pump my fist in the air and shout, 'Drum machines have no soul!' I was so sure of it, I probably would’ve slapped that on a bumper sticker and stuck it right on my ’82 Honda Accord. But now? It’s rare for me to even listen to music in that old-school formula, and I love that I’ve changed my tune (ha, clever monkey). It’s refreshing to not be stuck in that same mindset for life.
Maybe it's because I’ve traveled the world extensively, or maybe I’m still that kid, endlessly curious about the world and the people who add new spices to the recipe of life. 'They' say you should stick to your guns, but come on, there are so many different guns. You can flip on the news any day and learn about a new type—there are even ghost guns. Boo! Now you see 'em, now you don’t.
But think about this for a second: imagine sticking to your guns and refusing to try pineapple on pizza. 'That’s disgusting!' you say, 'I will never try that.' Then, one day, you cave. And guess what? You love it. The greasy, salty pepperoni mixing with the sweet, crunchy pineapple? Flavor explosion. Hits all the right senses.
Now, let’s take it a step further. Imagine you hate immigrants because your nightly news feeds you a steady diet of fear and sensationalized nonsense. But then, it’s taco Tuesday, and you and your work buddies head out for burritos and margaritas. You chat with the waiter or maybe even flirt with the staff, and suddenly, you realize, 'Hey, these people are just trying to make a living like me.' Your whole perspective shifts.
Or picture this: you hate yourself so much, you feel trapped, helpless, stuck in this version of life you didn’t sign up for. Then, one day, you decide to jump into a parallel universe, take over the life of the 'you' who’s happy, content, and grateful. Did you kill off the version of yourself you hated? Did you push aside the other 'you' that was living the life you wanted? Where do those versions go? Is it game over for them?"
I held a little ceremony to honor the old version of myself—the one I no longer wanted to be—and to celebrate the new version that slipped into a parallel universe to finish this level of the game. I do believe in reincarnation, and honestly, it feels a lot like a video game or one of those old choose-your-own-adventure books. You get a certain number of chances to make it through the game or the adventure, trying to reach your goal. But if you don’t reach it… well, it's GAME OVER.
Love & Light;
MM
EYE & EAR HOLES: Goals as I get older.
I guess this is what they call wisdom. Pure wisdom, my friend Mister Moyer.