Meditation for December 27th, 2016
An Apology
We are nearing the end of this meditation venture where I said I would write a meditation everyday for a year. Now that I am at the tail end of this, I now know I owe all of you an apology.
The reason I started this Cracked Pot Meditation is that on September 3rd 2014, I was diagnosed with stage 3 cancer. I had to get a teste removed, go through four intense rounds of chemo, have several lymph nodes removed via a very envasive surgery, and then wait to find out if I’m fine or have only five years to live, and then deal with the emotional and physical aftermath of all I went through. My head was clouded by the chemo treatments and the intense depression that usually follows. I had huge cognitive issues and I lost the love to read and write.
So I forced myself to do a daily practice of writing where I did a largely satirical blog posts on meditation and other new agey topics. Sometimes I got serious. Most of the time I wanted to make you laugh.
Some nights I wanted to not write anything. I was out of ideas. It was too late. I just couldn’t do it one more night. I wrote it on my phone most of the time and posted it without even editing.
I got some hate mail. People didn’t like my making fun of Buddhism or Christianity. Some people didn’t feel safe because I poked fun at chakras and the zodiac.
I do owe an apology.
In October I was diagnosed in remission. My battle with cancer was over. I could now look forward to gonin with my life. I was a free man.
It took one of the biggest devastating deals with the devil ever negotiated.
I traded several well beloved pop icons’ souls, Syria, several black men had to be shot by cops, separated Britain from Europe, and I handed the United States of America to our most feared and hated nemisis: the Russian Federation for remission.
Funny story. I was cruising down the road feeling all bad about the possibility of dying of cancer when I arrived at a crossroads. At the intersection of that crossroads stood a man with a toothy grin and skin the color of alabaster.
He said he could take my cancer away for the small price of my soul.
The unfortunate situation is that I had pawned my soul to Jerry Cantrell in 1993 for some heroin and a half pack of GPC 100s. I had no soul to sell, but that didn’t stop me from making a deal.
I pulled out my fiddle and said, “If I beat you at playing this here fiddle than I get remission, several well beloved pop icons’ souls, The complete scorched earth upon Syria, several black men have to be shot by cops, you will separate Britain from Europe, and hand the United States of America to our most feared and hated nemisis: the Russian Federation. Maybe throw in some mass shootings too.”
The devil said, “Drats, I don’t play the fiddle.”
And for that I am sorry.
Best one yet
Agreed.