I’m a smart woman. I know this. However, selecting correct addresses for delivery apparently eludes me as I yet again delivered a mess of packages to my old townhouse. I pulled up and grabbed them last night and got overwhelmed with memory and emotion. I said out loud “man I really miss you” to my old house. I felt old, burning tears well up as 11 months of holy fuck tried to charge through: psychosis, totaled car, moving in with my ex, wtf even is my life, wtf is going on, etc. etc. just then, Billy Corgan screamed (Bullet with Butterfly Wings was playing) “Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage” so instead of crying I kinda just screamed the cage part, but I more squeaked it.
And I remembered Ram Dass’ great cosmic joke and I started laughing hysterically. I mean, who cares, really? It’s over and it’s been. One of fave songs since I was 13 is playing, I’m alive, I can’t pick an address to save my life, and clearly I did it so I could have a moment to squeakily say goodbye to my old place.
When tears can turn to laughter, who really cares? The only one who can do that is you. Thoughts create your reality in every moment. You can be the rat, you can be the butterfly, you can remember how damn fine Billy Corgan looked in those silver pants, amirite? I’m grateful to have the awareness of the cosmic jokes. Cause to me, life is all about the giggles.
And you know: laughter is actually overriding your flight or fight response. Your body and mind genuinely are unsure what to do with that reaction. It’s why you feel unsure what to do when you’re tickled and you can’t breathe. Spontaneous laughter is similar, Alan Watts said, to what a koan attempts to inspire in satori. It’s clearing away dust. Getting you out of your ruts and grooves so you can see truth.
Sometimes the best advice comes from a warthog, “you gotta put your behind in your past” ~Pumbaa
Mah Butt Itches 
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