In all the universes that have, currently, and will exist, I wish there was one where I’m not so lost. Nigh on twenty-seven years have I wandered around like a fool with nothing to show for it but frivolous affectations. The worry of it is if something truly did change, would I recognize it?

Right now, I am looking for a new job since my current one has become unpalatable. I had an interview last week for a job that I’m all but burning for. I must confess that my interviews could have been better but they also could have been much, much worse. At the end, the seniors said they would look into what the next steps of the process are, but I’m not holding out much since no one has gotten back to me. Yes, it is more than possible I will hear back, since my interview was just on Wednesday. At the same time I have also learned of the futility of hope. It seems every time a hope is fulfilled, there is some dirty catch that turns a hope into the devil’s pitchfork.

How cruel to talk about moving a hopeful to the next stage of a process, then not following up quickly! Is the devil not enough? Has he gathered recruits? Perhaps, after all, the devil is no longer enough to jab blights such as I.

I dearly wish that somewhere there is an affirmation that I am, indeed, loved and wanted in some way or another. It gets cold being alone. And if my cry in the ether goes unanswered then should I be a maltheist? Should I be a misanthrope?  Should I point to the green crossroad near my home and say, “this is a hateful thing?” just as I point to my malaise and say the same? Should I turn my back on a kind face and say “where were you when I died in the gutter?”

Why do I even bother to ask you, when I don’t need your pity?

Oh, I know where my physical studies are taking me: right onto mediocrity though I should be able to support myself until I find the right time to shuffle off. And I know where my spiritual studies should be taking me, or perhaps I don’t. I find it difficult to trust a person, let alone a deity. If I chanted om namah shivaya I should make a liar out of myself, because I haven’t an idea if the Lord of Love is going to hear that din. If he did, what would I do? I am no longer filled with the reckless,  exuberant confidence that ultimately led to my demise. Sometimes I wonder how things would have turned out if I had met Bastet when I was older, more emotionally stable (albeit more suicidal), and more sadly aware of the state of affairs that will, no doubt, one day bring me to wrap a wire around my throat and affix the further end to a doorknob.

I have so many major and petty karmas. I believe I must have murdered someone in some farflung life to be in these dire straits. Thus, even if I believed there was a Lord of Love so inclined to reach out or hear my chanting, he’d walk away from the bloody mess that I am. Yes, despite being a god of the ashes and ghouls and those with nowhere else to go, Lord Shiva has some fucking dignity. That’s more than I can say for myself or the rest of you corporeal prats.

There is a line in the Gita where Krishna says, “you are very dear to me.” Does that apply to all the devas? And do I believe it?

If I comprehend Narada, then something has to give–me. And I don’t mean give like walk into a store with a bazooka and cyanide teeth; I mean I’m expected to let go of all this hurt and disappointment and anger for something I’m not sure exists. But I have developed an attitude that the world ought to come to me, because I am a wounded deer in the desert. Have the gods not come down to me more than I deserve? You people never have. So I suppose the missing element is out there with you. You have all promised and so often failed to deliver. No matter what I do, I am never enough for you, and so therefore have ceased to care about your existence.

I am supposed to see expressions of the Lord of Love on all of you. Where am I supposed to find him? He should be there…do the scriptures lie, or have they simply become defunct in the modern person? I am not a seer or a sage and cannot pretend to be any sort of final authority on the matter. All I know is I have seen love in the trees and stars and waters and sun and moon. I have seen it in a wisp of fog and a tremble of steam. I have seen it, even, in austere cathedrals, cemeteries, and hills laid bare by fire. I have seen it in a horse’s canter, a dog’s begging stare at the table, and the out spread wings of every bird.

But I have looked into my and your eyes and have seen no such thing. I have watched you tend your children and your pets and all I see are mechanical wind ups performing the same tasks again and again. I have listened to you in churches and mosques. I have heard you sing and where are you? You could be anywhere.

You are not here. The Lord of Love is not here, yet there is nowhere where he is not. What is the answer to this painful mystery? The Lord must be in the empty space. Shiva: god of the gaps. Not so far from his nature, either. If you are there, lord, then let me put down this burden for awhile. What little things are you trying to teach me–what great? I have seen your fire-tipped teeth…

I have seen that terrible bow, and I tremble at thinking of what damage it can do as you launch arrows down the axes of time. I have felt the loneliness of Kailash and was not able to think of it as solitude. I can intellectualize, but otherwise the pain is too great.

It does not matter if I read the Gita, or Narada, or Shvetashvatara, or any of those. Nor does it matter if I double back into the weeds seeking what I had, thinking a stiletto in the back better than the Great White Nothing. It all leads to the same place, with ragged sleep the sole relief.

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