The Meaning of Life (RR)


by OPOVV, ©2017

Photo credit: Pixabay

(Mar. 1, 2017) — “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to ‘Pulse of the Nation,’ the show that exposes the truth. Hello, my name is Roving Reporter and I’ll be your host for this evening’s show. This setting should be familiar to our ardent viewers: yes, we’re back in Cassadaga, Florida, to once again have a session with our favorite medium, Madam Shylock.

“Hello, Madam, and welcome to ‘Pulse.’ From the goodness of her heart, my boss sent us back down for yet another session with you, bless her heart. She asked me to ask you what the meaning of life was; she also asked me if they’re universals; also the meaning of time; mental telepathy; and, lastly, if there are truths, or maybe just one truth, and if there is, would we even recognize it?”

“Love; yes; enough; don’t be silly; of course; and of course not. That’ll be $10,000 USD. Thank you. Cash or Debit, yes?”

“Wait! No way. Don’t we have to negotiate?

“No ‘negotiate’: you asked; I answered. Done deal, and I have the transaction all recorded on DVD at $19.95. But wait! If you purchase two, I’ll waive the shipping and handling.”

“You’ll ‘waive?’ Wait a minute: you mean you secretly record every ‘reading’ (or whatever you call it)?”

“I call it protection, and so does my lawyer.”

“Tell you what: throw in your session with the ‘Talking Dog’ and you’ve got a deal.”

“You’ll pay that much money for a film of a dog sleeping? I take pity on an ignorant fool. Look, just kidding. For you: $100. Here, sit, and please pay attention, no pun intended.”

“None taken.”

“Now $200. Just kidding. Let’s look into the crystal ball and see what we shall see. Ah, ah so. I see you in Japan, true?”

“Yes: I was stationed in Japan when I was in the Navy.”

“I see an old Japanese poem, written by a Samurai on his journey back to his love after battle. If I read it to you please don’t ask me to explain: some things are just not explainable, understand? Not decipherable. Do you accept?”

“This sounds like a trick. I mean, how do I know you won’t just speak a bunch of Japanese and that’ll be it?”

“Translation charge nominal; let’s make it special today price at $19.95; you like?”

“Look, here’s a nice crisp $100 bill for one answer to one question, in English: what is love?”

“Back to Japanese love poem. He says he misses her and he’ll be awfully happy to get back home. There, you like nice love story?”

“This time for real, please.”

“Very well: to set the mood, we’ll listen to the warrior and his love parting: she is saying goodbye, perhaps forever, she just doesn’t know. All she knows is that they’re parting, perhaps never to see one another again. It is a very sad yet beautiful song: she is being as strong as she can possibly be in the face of overwhelming sadness. Here; let’s listen (’Sayonara’) and then I’ll read you the poem.

I look to the awakening sun and see the sky covered in clouds; it looks as though there’s an ember of fire, an orange light striving to push the grey away; and then, in an instant, a ray of sunlight bursts through and I see wisps of clouds being vaporized before my very eyes: from shadow to clear faster than a blink, and that is the metamorphose: from being less than one to being whole, when I’m with my love, the ONE above the many; the ONLY from all that I have seen until the forever that I shall see.

I am no longer a piece of the puzzle of life; I was just a part without purpose or hope. I can now flourish without constraints for I am laid bare to scrutiny; my defenses are lowered: the arrow returned to its quiver; the sword sheathed; the quip silenced.

In yet another instant my emotions have gone into hibernation that nothing can disturb: no force of nature is strong enough to deter the one thought that makes me the soul that I am: now I am whole, when once I was empty, a wandering unfulfilled life.

Wise men say that yearning is ephemeral: one yearns and then continues, yet I know that love is a tangible wild animal that can’t be tamed nor ever controlled, nor would one want to stifle the raging beast.

To yearn makes my leg move forward; makes my foot take a step closer to my love: is not a step physical?

To yearn makes my sight blurred: are not tears also physical?

Love is as real as the day is long; as truthful as the sustenance of life; as honest as a newborn.

First requirement is to be true to oneself, for is not truth the keystone of life? And is not love the ultimate truth? And if love is life, is it not our sworn duty to be as honest as the day is long, starting with ourselves and ending with ourselves, for to live a lie is to be caught in a nightmare; to be trapped inside a whirlwind of conflicting impressions: is this the truth or is that the truth?

Truth does not lie; therefore, be true to oneself: accept the Golden Rule of Life: love is the essence of being, for without love the world is a cruel and empty wasteland.

And there is a last step: the last physical embodiment of love as the Warrior and his love run to one another, clasp to one another, as if they’re constructing a cocoon; a moat; castle walls: for the protection from the savages of life.

Home is the heart.

Victory: love does conquer all.

And that’s it; the end of the Japanese love poem. He loves her.”

“Yes, I understand now. Thank you. Well, there you have it: a reading from the fortuneteller. Thank you for watching. This is your Roving Reporter, on behalf of the crew, wishing you all a goodnight: Goodnight.

“Do you think it was a little too serious? Anyway, I do believe we got our money’s worth, don’t you? What do you say we grab a burger: my treat.”



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