It's Saturday night and the rain still falls and it's been a good day with plenty of rest and a few things accomplished and there was a nap and the falling rain outside sounded like Buddhist bells, tiny and real and in my bed I felt comforted and stilled and healed and well.
I've just spent well over an hour trying to write something about why I love the Rolling Stones so much and it involved the sexual abuse I suffered and how music freed me to know that my body was my own and for my own pleasure and use and how the Beatles teaching me about love, the Stones teaching me about sex, probably saved my life.
But I can't seem to get it down right, can't seem to say it the way I mean it, can't find the right Youtube videos to illustrate it and god DAMN it, why does every video I watch start out with an advert for Bounty paper towels? Every. Single. One.
All I can say is that human beings are spirit and flesh and I was lucky as hell to come into awareness when there were suddenly teachers, inadvertent as they may have been, to make me know that I deserved to live fully in both, no matter what had happened to me, been done to me, sermoned to me.
I am as grateful for that as I am for anything I know. Because that music, not just of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones but of so many others from Simon and Garfunkel to the Beach Boys and Mozart and Bach and Beethoven and Bette Midler and B.B. King and Bo Diddley and Joni Mitchell and The Neville Brothers and St. Bruce Springsteen and on and on and on and on kept me alive and dancing and sometimes joyful when I don't think anything else could have.
They were all there when I needed them and I'm still here and I still believe with all of my heart the messages I have been given by them and I know that I am still living on this earth partly due to them and any sanity I may have have has to be credited to their messages.
Spirit and flesh. I refuse to be part of any religion which denies or denigrates the flesh and which sanctifies and glorifies the denial and suffering of it in the name of spirit.
It's still raining, gently and sweetly. As gently and sweetly as a thoughtful and respectful lover.
As real and as necessary to the continuation of life as is human touch is to the continuation of our species.
I guess that's all I need to say.