For my next life, I will be a heavy metal musician. Hopefully, by the time I reincarnate, my gender will only determine if I purchase the baby-doll tee or the straight up Fruit of the Loom screen print from my favorite bands. I will write potent, mind-altering lyrics thanks to this current life as a writer. I will be born into a musically-inclined family, hopefully a great grand-something of Mike Mangini or Ann Wilson or Sully Erna. I will play every instrument including the vocals.
I only say this because I’ve always been that kid who walked the outskirts of every known group considered acceptable by mainstream society. I would jump up and down trying to see what was going on in the middle of all that respectability. Only to discover that I didn’t want any part of what I had seen after crawling through the maze of legs. Ugly things can happen beneath a smiling veneer.
When I’m reborn, I will explore the things that everyone else is too afraid to discuss in voices above a whisper. I do so now, but in my next life I will start in my hell-raising youth. I will shout it out from the rooftops, not for attention, but because my compassion for humanity insists that I tell them the truth: sex, blood, and death. Everything else is but a variation on a theme and sometimes that theme isn’t so pretty.
We are created through sex. We are born in blood. We die. The cycle repeats. In between these events, many try to pretend that sex-blood-death isn’t happening. The very clouds are borne of the intermingling of air and water. Rain is birthed. The clouds disperse. Repeat. It is a beautiful, divine cycle and we are meant to be part of it.
How is it that humanity can ignore the cycles of life: the passion, the rage, the fear? Yet humans do and with cowardly abandon. In that very non-act, the twisted psyche is born and fed. Every known avatar has come bearing the tidings of sex-blood-death. Some have been laughed at, some have been murdered, but most have been ignored. And the illness grows.
I am no stranger to sex-blood-death. Neither is anyone who reads these words. Perhaps like me, you have embraced the dark truth. You have given it a name and yet still acknowledge its mystery. There is a freedom here. A freedom to follow passion, to speak truth, and to tell the stories that must be told. \m/