CONVERSATIONS WITH GUB:, 2
ME: I feel like I’m: a failure.
GUB: Okay.
ME: It’s okay to feel that?
GUB: You want a bolt of lighting for being hard on yourself? That will make things better?
ME: I should be getting more done.
GUB: Or less.
ME: More or less again.
GUB: Get more happiness done, get less worry and hurry. It looks nice where you are.
ME: I love it outside on beautiful days, but I should be inside, doing computer stuff.
GUB: Ah, should, should. The weight of the world. The clang of the inner prison doors. The lash of the inner whip. Lash, bash, crash.
ME: It is like that, isn’t it?
GUB: Beautiful day, and you making a hell inside. This is what you came to Earth to do?
ME: Not really.
GUB: Not really, not smeally. You did your chores which meant getting out. You came to a beautiful field to write this fake channeling down. What’s the problem?
ME: I should…
GUB:: Yes, yes. That’s the problem. Not the beautiful field. The auditory hallucination, the "should" hallucination.
ME: Words in my head?
GUB:: So called “thinking.” Call it inner sub-vocal stinking for all the good it’s doing you.
ME: Leaves are blowing across the grass. No one else is out here. Kids are in school. Parents at work, home, shopping.
GUB:: Or on the computer. Or driving around, driving themselves crazy. All sorts of ways to waste a day, spend a day, experience your moments.
ME: It’s beautiful now. So beautiful.
GUB:: Why live in a beautiful place and spend the whole day indoors?
ME: If I were more successful I’d be…
GUB:: Complaining you don’t get outside enough. Or else depressed and not knowing why. Outdoors is a food. Nature is a food. If people don’t eat enough they wither inside.
ME: I’d love to do Feldenkrais outside.
GUB:: So do. Figure a way to do it.
ME: But people are afraid of nature.
GUB:: Some are. Some aren’t. You’ll lose some.
ME: Can I afford that?
GUB:: Can you afford to ignore the song of your heart?
ME: Song of my heart? That sounds schmaltzy.
GUB:: Schmaltzy waltzy. If life isn’t a sweet dance, you aren’t living it right.
ME: But all the “successful” people buckle down, don’t go outdoors until after work, don’t…
GUB:: This is a concept, a story, and is it true?
ME: Seems like it.
GUB:: Ah, but who is going to be successful at loving this beautiful afternoon if you aren’t out here doing it?
ME: You aren’t much a pusher of guilt, are you?
GUB:: Feel guilty when you are about to hurt someone and stop before you do. That’s the only non-harmful way to feel guilty.
ME: What about after you have done some harm?
GUB:: Guilt then is wallowing. If you’ve hurt someone, make it right. If you’ve violated some social taboo: for example, saying no to an invitation you didn’t want, then feel happy you can be yourself, not guilty.
ME: But others get mad at you.
GUB:: Mad like crazy. Sure, when you are crazy, don’t you expect the world to jump through your hoops?
ME: Yes.
GUB:: Well. Other people, too. Crazy full of “shoulds” about you and what you “should” do. Want a life of slavery? Try to pay attention to and follow every one else’s shoulds for you. From the eye opening of waking to dropping into dreary sleep, you’ll be running raggedy to keep up with all these demands that you don’t be who is really you.
ME: What’s really me?
GUB:: Out here in the light. Wind, birds, blue sky, sun. leaves. Now they are resting. Waiting for the next time they get to dance along.
ME: This is too easy.
GUB: If it's so easy, why aren't more doing it?
ME: It still feels a little wrong, enjoying all this, when others...
GUB:: Worthless guilt. Enjoy. The computer will be there when it gets dark.
ME: But I’m: not getting anything done.
GUB:: Just listening, looking, enjoying, learning, loving life. That’s all. Seems like enough to me. What about you, really?
ME: It’s sweet.
GUB:: Sweet is good.
ME: Now I suppose you’re going to take a nap?
GUB:: No. You. Your turn. Taking a nap on a beautiful day out doors, sweetly getting nothing done but loving life, ah, that’s a gift to you and to the world.
ME: Okay.
GUB:: You’re not going to argue that one?
ME: No.
GUB:: Good.
Copyright Chris Elms 2006