MOJAVE MULESKINNERS

When I was a boy, I would sometimes find a grassy little meadow smack in the middle of a clearing in the woods, or even a field of grain, lay flat on my back and stare straight up at the sky. If I was lucky there would be a hawk circling away up there or maybe big thunderheads to form mysterious shapes like Spanish Galleons or mountain canyons. Those were great moments. And now that I'm older, I have come to realize just how great.

 

This whole planet has a set of rules. Some might call them the law of nature; others claim they're the law of physics. But whatever they are, they are.

 

Everything devours something to sustain its existence else it dies, dissipates, diminishes, or fades to black. Nothing escapes this rule or law. Even when we look afar at other galaxies, we see similar things. Our small little planet spins along vulnerable to orbiting comets, meteors, and other space migrants that may collide with it causing chaos or even the end of civilization. Our mediocre3 sun, already middle aged, will one day nova and consume our solar system. Looking inward, it's even more terrifying to examine the world of bacteria, viruses, and other microscopic creatures.

 

We have books left to us by our forbearers that among other things promise us a "hereafter" if we meet certain conditions. Doing this, we're allowed to travel forever in a place where everything is perfect. Problem is, each of us has a different notion of perfection. For example: Here is some old miner who has lived all his adult life virtually alone and now stands on the golden streets of heaven to unload a mouthful of tobacco juice no ten feet from the hem of widow Jenkins' skirt who is passing on the arm of her husband. To the widow Jenkins, this is filthy, outrageous, and unspeakable, while the old miner is perfectly relaxed in the freedom of this new found heaven that permits him to do as he will.

     Some would say that heaven will have tobacco chewers or people with other foul habits. Then what about sex? Some argue this is a foul habit while others swear it's the most glorious ignition of the human senses granted mankind. I would subscribe to this view. Within the framework of love, it is the very beginning of our existence.

 

Needless to say, I'm perplexed, for if I am in any way altered when I finally pass into that great beyond, I shall not be me. Moreover, it's difficult to cultivate any enthusiasm for a condition that I'm uncertain of. Truly I would prefer arriving at that golden gate as I am, and with my present aptitudes. So here I stand in the very shadow of eternity looking for exactly what every man who has passed before me has looked for - Truth.

 

Perhaps truth is ignorance? I was certainly ignorant of all this when I was a boy in the meadow squinting up at my imaginations. Maybe to simply be unaware of most things is to live blissfully? We can't worry about what we don't know, can we?

 

Does mankind posses a spirit that when the body is lost, continues on within a mass of energy to proceed with our personal thoughts and retentions? And to what end? For what purpose? Or is it necessary to have a destination or purpose?

 

Certainly many of my old friends who've preceded me over the smoky divide could answer these questions, but they're difficult to communicate with. Or else they're ignoring me?

 

I reakon I'm just looking for a little assurance that me and that old miner will have a place to set and talk about all the things that are, or were, familiar to us. After all, if we're going to spend eternity here, it would be preferable if he had a place to spit so as to not offend anyone and I had a nice boat to sail. Or maybe a meadow to lay in. What do you think?

 

 

~ Weakeyes Cody