I’m reblogging this post for a certain someone. You know who you are.
Some people think that you can choose your parents*. This morning, for some reason, I woke up thinking about this idea.
What would it really mean to make a choice like that?
And, if you could choose your parents, what else would you be choosing? How much information would you be given when making such a choice?
What might the process of this choosing look like?
Putting it into context (in other words, “me”) this is one possible imagining…
There I was floating in time and space. I didn’t know if it was heaven or hell. Maybe it was neither.
I was aware of my sense of self. I knew I was an incorporeal form.
Drifting, I ended up at a structure that looked like a car dealership. I made my way inside.
Before me there were choices…
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Be that as it may, I thought I’d share. And here, in writing, is my bold claim: I literally guarantee I will make at least one of these come true. You can take that to the bank. Which one? Only time can tell.
- Publish a novel
- Watch every episode of Downton Abbey
- CrossFit every day
- Acquire one dozen “iMac with 5k Retina Display” and run them in parallel to update my blog
- Be honored as Volunteer of the Year
- Perform the song Uptown Funk on American Idol
- High dive into the Ik Kil Yucatán cenote
- Eat a donut
I’ll report back when I’ve accomplished one of these.
Niggles normally attach at the base of the spine. They are persistent little buggers. They gnaw and chew until the job is done. They’re like scrubbing bubbles. They work hard so you don’t have to.
I am The Niggle
And I’m here to say
I bore in your skull
Every hour of the day
You wanna live your life?
You wanna get away?
I’m gonna stalk you down
I’m gonna make you pay
I’m a patient guy
I got plenty o’ time
No matter how long it takes
I’m gonna own your mind
Introducing my good buddy The Niggle. He’s an ornery rambunctious sort. Invisible and sneaky, at any given moment in time there are literally thousands of him latched on tight, gnawing at our skulls, always desperately trying to get in. Fun stuff, huh?
The Niggle is the price we pay for this modern life. He hangs on dearly when we look around and ask, “What gives? Is this all there is?”
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