Everyone who knew me before 9-11 thinks I'm dead. Sometimes, I wonder if they're right. In the evening when the sun sinks pink and the katy-dids start up, I sit on my front porch and think about that mystery: If every living link to your past thinks you're dead, can you really be alive? Sometimes, after a few drinks, I start believing that maybe I'm just writing now to satisfy some Celestial Jury in whose hands my Eternal Destiny has been placed. When I was little, I saw some movie on television about people who died and spent a week in heaven waiting on their final judgement. They rode on those open-door trains like you ride on in the parking lot at Disney. You know, the ones who are driven by the perky teenagers in flip-collard Polo shirts and white tennis shoes? If one of those things pulled up right now, I couldn't claim to be all that surprised.
If I had the chance to recast the past six years, I might. But then again, I've always heard the voice of destiny pushing me just this way. Destiny speaks with a voice you can't resist, even when you realize it might need a little help to keep turning the wheels it put in motion for you.
1 comment:
You know, I remember that same movie and I can never remember the name of it.
An interesting thought about it: once you got to "heaven," you ha the opportunity to view your past life [rather, lives - you had many]. At each progression, your celestial IQ improved and you evolved into something better. God the creator was there, but he didn't have the highest IQ [nor did you meet him].
All to say, the whole premise of the movie was about taking risks - of growing outside of the person you know. If you remember the ending, the guy in the film was able to progress because he took one final risk [in life he was an apparent tool sack] by clinging to one of the buses to chase after a woman he loved...that he met in heaven...that he would not remember once they progressed.
Anyways. Your blog. xacyzogy
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