Just Fucking Do It!

Posted on Updated on

Pow!

How many now will seize not just the day (which Carpe Diem signifies) but every moment, second, hour, in every way (beyond how all our drudgeful habits make things seem) — will take our lives out to a place we do not know — will just be crazy for the hell of it and to the wind all caution throw, then watch our earthquake epicentres grow? Microsecond madness is sublime. Trust me. That’s how I’ve vowed to live my briefsome life through every day and all the wholesome time I’ve left on earth, which may be short but always will be sweet.

What if I would say to you: “Come with me now! Let’s walk throughout this wondrous night and talk and play and touch the stars and feel the sand beneath our feet and laugh and grasp some silence wonderfully till we see the light break on the sea — yes! you and me! — a powerhouseful unit which transcends the we”, will you respond with some erection-killing words, some verbal boring turds, such as “I have no time” or “now I have to go to work” and other “buts” and whines? SO WHAT? Excuses! All of them! What if you should feel somewhat fatigued when prison-time arrives? At least you’ve lived throughout the night and maybe when you’ve witnessed Mars and Jupiter and put some glinty little stars inside your pockets for a rainy day you’ll realise that play is more important than the work you use to excuse your lack of enthusiasm and other things with which you build that jumpless chasm running wide between your heart and all the things you’d love to do if lack of spontaneity didn’t have its deathly grip on you.

Whatever happened to adventure and let’sdoitwhilewecan? Have we become prevaricators, stick-in-muds, procrastinators, laissez-faire equivocators, boring by design? Can we no more align ourselves with joy, preferring then to atrophy, play coy?

“I must go back to meditate, or let the cat out, feed the dog, prevaricate, prepare my lunchbox, do my washing, go to church, or go to synagogue”. Don’t you know that temple-time is everywhere and on that beach with sand between our toes the power of nature overflows and what if Kitty shits upon the floor or if your dog should wait some hours more before his grub or you can bring him too. No more excuses please or I will quickly tire of you.

“I have a baby so I cannot come”. What bullshit! Stick that kiddo on my back. Bring its papoose, for babies love to dance — it helps them sleep and if they learn to love the stars while young and know their parents and their friends have flung all caution to the wind and chosen love and living in the now instead of wondering endlessly how to feel alive, I promise you that little kid will thrive and never make excuses for a failure to be free, as you are doing now while reading what is flowing on these pages from this heart of me with all my passion gallantry.

How often have I seen control-freak craziness which comes in many sizes, shapes and lies — though often clothed in thin and cleverful disguise. Controlling themselves, controlling others too. Refusing to be crazy with them, using reasons we both know aren’t true. Hiding under trendy phrases, wheezes, lines, afraid to give herself to any beautymen she finds. “I’m a strong and independent woman!” says her mouth in claims for all the world to see — throws herself into some business plan, pretending that she’s free, when really she’s just frightened of commitment and surrender and the magnetry of love and (to her) the suffocating dread of real intimacy. Refusal to commit herself because of stifling fear of some abandonment which happened as a kid or with some other guy but has no relevance to the situation which she finds herself in here.

If ever there’s a phrase which needs to catch on in this day, it’s this: “Just fucking do it!” whether others go or stay. Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. So please don’t die a wizened dried-up loveless-but-you-think-you’re-safe behind your many walls.

“I’ve too much baggage for this lark you want to take me on”. For pity’s sake, just fuck that foolish moan! For beaches are the perfect place to bring your luggage load. As when you’ve tried to drag it round on sand for hours, you’ll tire of it and leave it where it stands and wonder why you didn’t do that years ago!

For aeons I have roamed this earth in search of souls who’ll walk that sand with me — who’ll flush their dumb excuses down the lavuhtree — who’ll leave their “buts” inside their butts and choose a destiny which fits their souls and mindful-moulding poetry instead of choosing suffocating corsetry with which to manufacture phoney roles and money-grabbing goals and all the other asshole ways we make us grey instead of playful-coloured intimacy — lovelight-covered crazed impetuosity.

And so, when midnight comes, don’t bore me with “I have to go to sleep before I turn into a pumpkin” or make me weep by saying that the weather’s poor (to dance in rain or thunderstorm is clean and pure) or you’ve forgotten what the meaning is of words like “glad” or “joy” or “letsjustliveeachmomentasitcomes”. For life is shorter than we think and we’ll be gone before we’ve even time to blink our way to blindness (which, contrary to what we see around us, is not and must not ever be our natural state). So who will take my hand (or better still, my arm)? I swear no harm will come to you. In any case, the worst which happens is we die but that is not so bad for I believe there are adventures to be had beyond the veil — for after all, it’s just another ride (or flight or sail). Excuses, though, are signs of death-before-we’ve-died — a life that has been lived to no avail. For where there’s love, there’s will. And where there’s will there is a way. And where there is a way there is a certain antidote for grey.

So join me by my side and savour life where tides and moon and mystery and knightly tales of wondruncy and silly gleeful swordsmanship (a metaphor) your heart will grip (I swear by all I am that’s what our life is for)!

© Alan Morrison, 2017

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s