Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Mingus & Mythotherapy

Oh, hello there, reader. I am exhausted, as you can see from this picture. I recently finished reading The End of the Road, by John Barth; a book I loved and hated in turns (loved for its philosophical musings, hated for its frank misogyny and violence against women).

There is one aspect of the book that has stayed with me: Mythotherapy. Here the main character Jacob Horner is speaking to his Doctor. The Doctor is describing Mythotherapy as an entirely therapeutic thought process that Jacob has already been employing without knowing it:

"In life," he [the Doctor] said, "there are no essentially major or minor characters. To that extent, all fiction and biography, and most historiography, are a lie. Everyone is necessarily the hero if his own life story. Hamlet could be told from Polonius' point of view and called The Tragedy of Polonius, Lord Chamberlain of Denmark. He didn't think he was a minor character in anything, I daresay." (88)

In celebration of the idea of Mythotherapy, I have asked Mingus to be a guest blogger today (as I have perhaps erroneously portrayed him as a minor character in this blog, I wish to allow him to make himself full fleshed, as it were, for you). Mingus is my cell mate, a six year old ginger colored fluff ball, with whom everyone is in love. Mingus, please, as they say,  take it away.

Thanks, Luco, and thanks to you who are reading this. Luco asked me to blog today, and first I thought "nah." You know why? It seemed like a lot of work! Not that I'm lazy, it's just I have other things to do. Autographs to sign, fan letters to respond to, dogs to torture.... I'm just joking. Probably "dog torturing" is the only real thing on my list. I could've added sleeping. And lying in the windowsill. Eating. Running from the dog.

But then I thought, wait. Just wait a second there, Mingy. You can provide these good readers of Luco's (sorry to say, but usually) depressing blog a little bit of sunshine. Some happiness, right? So that's what I decided to try to do right now (I was going to chase the dog around the living room, but we've all gotta make sacrifices, right?).

What is the most beauteous, the most lovely, the most marvelous thing in the house? The sink. Luco and I share this love (he would demur and say he loves nothing, but I've seen the shine his eyes gets when he's there. I've seen his lips curl up in a little smile. He can't bear to know this, but he does love it). 

Have you ever granted yourself the delicious freedom of curling up in a sink, allowing the water to drip on you, and then licking that water off? Okay, maybe it sounds kinda weird, but it's absolutely divine, I swear.

Each drop of water a reminder that to live is to experience joy and fullness. I feel safe here. And so happy. Maybe if I've been feeling down, you know? Then all that just sorta melts away when I'm in the sink. It's a salve. A salvation even. 

I think we need places like this in our lives. Places we can go where we feel entirely free, outside of judgement, outside of any kind of scrutiny. Probably Luco would agree with me if he'd lighten up just for like just a second. Anyway, I love it here. I really do.

And yes, Luco, I will still die one day, but experiences like this give my life meaning. Make living worthwhile. Its shared experiences like this that allow you and me to start to understand each other. 

Every drop of water holds a micro-rainbow inside. Every tiny drop of water will be returned to the churning oceans. Every drop of water is a reminder to me that life is sweet; that life ought to be enjoyed while we're lucky enough to be living it. 

Aren't you happy, Luco, to be alive? To have these experiences? Aren't you grateful at all for any of this?

No, not especially.

1 comment:

  1. When I see a cat sleeping I don't know why but I want to tease them as much as I can.