Sunday, October 13, 2013

A pile of meat makes good and becomes somebody

My spirit doesn't earn a damn cent.  My body is the one out there making things happen. Oh sure, there's all those tingly "spirit" feelings and inspirations, but that never really gets the rent paid and the dishes washed.  That said, I really feel for my spirit. My spirit tries real hard to enlighten, nurture, and give me some connections that might keep me from going to hell.

I think I have it figured out, though. My spirit is like some '50s TV housewife and my body is the funny, overweight husband that gives her affection when it suits him, brings home the bacon, and beats her when the cameras are off.  It really is the best analogy I could come up with.

I've thought about divorce. I mean, I'm not looking to speed things up.  There's still much more to explore in this relationship. But, at some point, the spirit has had it with the body, or the body does something stupid, gets old, or just plain screws up.

I tried coming up with a suitable way to wrap this post up, but I got lost in fantasy.  I was thinking about how great it would be if my spirit and body did a "Freaky Friday".  I think I would learn a lot.

Anyhow, while I'm getting older, I think I can still expect great things from my body.  My spirit will always have to figure out life after my body leaves, much like the housewife that takes care of her fat, abusive husband, only to find him dead from a heart attack. Let's hope I've taken out sufficient afterlife insurance and my spirit will get what it deserves.