WALKING AFTER THE RAIN

Monday, August 10, 2009

WALKING AFTER THE RAIN

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2009 by Philip Cairns

I’m walking after the rain has stopped.

Air is fresh and clean.

Crisp, damp.

Thinking about Cultural Icons.

Society needs them.

People desire role models.

Someone to look up to and fantasize about.

Listen to teenagers talk.

They babble on about the latest pop star celebrity,

As if that person was truly important in their lives.

They say we chose the circumstances of our life before we come down to Earth,

As well as the way it will end.

Someone consented to be James Dean and die in a horrific car crash.

It’s as if we are actors choosing our roles before we descend onto this thrilling Paradise.

A soul even agreed to be Adolf Hitler, as that being was needed on the planet.

We decide beforehand what we need to work on in the upcoming lifetime.

A group of souls staying and playing together for eons.

One time, this particular one is your Mother.

In another life, they become your husband.

Someone is spreading vicious lies about me.

A channeller said that this man is getting his revenge

Because of a past life connection between us.

We seek peace, comfort and knowledge on this plane of existence.

It’s a learning experience for us.

Even before the printing press, there was the Town Crier

Announcing news and upcoming theatrical events.

Humans need to look outside themselves,

To empathize with other beings.

To see their own stories right in front of their eyes.

I’m walking after the rain.

Feeling good.

Wondering what’s coming next?

Trying to make sense of past traumas

In order to move on and thrive.

Remembering fun times when I had more stars in my eyes.

I had celebrity role models.

Jane Fonda, Judy Garland, Janis Joplin, James Dean, Montgomery Clift.

I liked the ones with drama surrounding them.

A whirlwind of sex and acclaim.

I never grew up to be an icon,

Though I was blessed with some gifts.

You be the judge of that.

We hide in our little cubby holes

Coming up for air when we need it.

Mingling with like-minded spirits.

Attempting to tell the truth, we hope.

Dolls morph into magazine photos

Which transform into thoughts and dreams.

Lusting after the unattainable.

Even Brando turned out old and fat and finally dead.

I think of some truly talented people and the misery of their lives.

Give me Van Gogh’s genius but not his torment.

Bless me with Judy’s glorious singing voice but not her crippling addictions.

Give me Liz Taylor’s youthful beauty but you can keep her illnesses for yourself .

Society reaches out to grasp these icon’s dazzling lives.

It takes us away from the dreariness of our own puss-filled boredom.

Even Jesus Christ had to relieve himself, just like you and me.

After death, we review the life we just lived, as if it were a novel we’d studied in school.

What did we learn?

What did we do right or wrong?

What challenges did we overcome and why?

In one life, you are a male peasant, starving to death in a barren wasteland.

In another, you’re a beautiful woman, with jewels on silver platters.

We have to experience everything.

You murder and are murdered.

Rich and poor.

Famous and infamous.

Easy lives and hard ones,

All flowing into the same swirling river.

A kaleidoscope of lives meshing into each other.

Will you be royalty, if requested?

General Patton?

Roosevelt or Woody Guthrie.

Jewish or Arab.

Intersexed.

Heterosexual or gay.

Asexual or trans.

Consider the possibilities.

We have all of Eternity to play these endless games.

May we all be blessed with our fair share of joy.