Carols, Korans, and Fountains of Bliss

It's that time again. Chestnuts burning on a sharpened spit and all that. I've been a little glum, but things are picking up again. That's the funny thing about life, right? Situations are always changing, disappointments eventually lose their sharp edges, and before you know it you're skipping down the halls of the monastery and whistling your favorite dirge. Life is pretty wonderful, once you get the hang of it.

I'll be spending Christmas with the 'rents in Vermont. Mom and dad and I will rock out with Barbra Streisand's Christmas Favorites (isn't she Jewish?) and knock back a few eggnogs. I was just up there this weekend, decorating their house for the holidays, spreading Christmas cheer, and decking their halls with festive pine pitch. (Heloise has no hints for removing sap from carpets, in case you were wondering).

I'll be back in New York for New Year's Eve, and as yet have nothing lined up. Since recently lowering the bar on eligibility for a date, the chances are good that I'll be able to scrape something together. My new criteria is as follows:

1) His age plus my age should not exceed my weight. (I'm willing to put on a few pounds for the right guy).
2) Kids are fine, but if he has grandkids, they must be potty trained. (Hey listen, I've got some nice carpets).
3) If certifiably psychotic, he must receive social security benefits and have full control of bladder and bowels. (That rug thing again).
4) If he doesn't have a job, he must be good with an X-acto knife (see below).

That's about it. The sad thing is that even after widening the gate, I haven't had any applicants. It's been suggested to me that I need to get out more, like, at least once a month. Jeez, I dunno. It's just so dang cozy here in my fetal den, what with my Marmot down snuggy and Sizzlin' Sudoku and peppermint pecan fudge and Christmas carols. Yes, I really do listen to them. I'm the only gal in hipster-infested Bushwick who streams Christmas carols on her laptop. It's the time of year; I gotta have it.

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And then there's the book of Revelation that desperately needs cutting. As reported in a recent blog entry, I'm cutting up the Koran and transmogrifying it into the text of the book of Revelation. This will be installed in Famous Accountants Gallery in January, and the show will open on February 18. I'm way excited about it. I've just reached chapter 21 of Revelation, but there were a few that I skipped, so I have maybe four chapters left. See, I'm pre-cutting the letters, since I'll only have a month to do the install. Until recently I had someone helping me by cutting up the Koran letter by letter with an X-acto knife, but I can't afford to pay her at the moment (see above).

The chapter I'm currently working on is the penultimate chapter of Revelation, and therefore of the Bible. John is starting to wind things up, make his point, and bring it on home. He describes heaven and its glories, and gives God's children a sneak preview at where they'll be spending eternity, if they play their cards right. Here's a sampler for you:

WARNING!
SPOILER ALERT!

"And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband (...) And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain."

Called me whacked, but I find this profoundly beautiful. This is what my creative work is about. Not the specifics, but the underlying desire for oneness and completion. It's what we all long for: to be reunited with and absorbed back into the unity from which we came. It's human nature to reach for comfort, and when there is none, we create a mythology centered around hope. New Jerusalem is a metaphor for that which we humans long for, where death and sorrow are replaced with life flowing with Presence and unity. Here's a passage from the Koran, describing the same thing:

"This is the Paradise which the righteous have been promised. There shall flow in it rivers of purest water, and rivers of milk forever fresh; rivers of wine delectable to those that drink it, and rivers of clearest honey."

Again, there's the ceaseless longing for our hearts to be at peace; to live in a state of equilibrium that requires nothing except to be. Rivers of life, fountains of bliss, and oceans of love are common metaphors in sacred writings, and allude to everlasting abundance, where there is no lack, and pain and sorrow are washed away by the flow of life-giving energy. Since it appears to be inaccessible in this lifetime, the mythologies state that we'll have it in the next. But it's all here, folks. The fountain is set squarely in the heart, and can bubble up with bliss in this lifetime, if one cares to pursue it. Religion isn't very effective at communicating this. It's something that you just gotta figure out on your own, and then melt into it.

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As I type, snowflakes are accumulating on my windowsill. Warmth and fuzziness prevail. May the fountain in your heart gush with joy, and may rivers of love enrich your soul. Happy holidays, everyone!

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Above: There's the old gal. It just wouldn't be Christmas without Babs belting out a few carols.