“…teaching is, after all, a form of show business.”
― Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic’s Life

I may be one with everything but sometimes it feels otherwise. Oh, I know the enlightened writers tip their hats to universality, but when you pick a zit, you do it all alone. Or at least I do. Not that enlightened people have complexion issues. I have sensed this about them. That they are deliriously happy 24/7 and prone to Skype everyone that will pay them good money just to hear them laugh.

Once I truly thought I could figure it out if I just read “enough” books. Then Deepak Chopra became flimsy and unreal to me. If he was so enlightened, how come he had such bad taste in eyewear? Didn’t his flunkies tell him he needed a stylist? Or maybe they chose his eyewear in order to get back at him for not paying them enough.

Anyhoo, that is none of my bizness. My bizness is to be unenlightened 24/7. I cannot let the true sages deter me from my appointed rounds of ignorance. For ignorance is bliss and I am writing extensively about this. My whereabouts will remain unknown, however. Otherwise, the boobs known as chelas would be hitting me up for hard-core dope on how to be as astonishingly ignorant as I am.

There was a day, and I think it was a Thursday, when I actually had a glimpse of enlightenment, but it was just the fact that I was dicing onions and was crying. The moment passed and once again, I was clearly the only one in the room that couldn’t see the connection between myself and the rest of the cosmos.

I am a lonely little petunia in an onion patch and I like it that way. I could be a Moravian Sugar Cookie or a tin of tea, but that comes later. I have read a brief pamphlet on what I can expect post-ignorance. I may consider myself Queen of the Cocktail Weenie or take up riding skateboards in waist-deep slush. I like to not know these things in advance.

Should I accidentally become enlightened, I have a strict legal brief on what to do and whom to do it to and with. It will be exciting if I should live so long. There is a certain star with my name on it that is a cross between a dog star and a Liver Snap. How cute is that?

More later, after I have been walked, fed and put back in my cage.

Vicki Woodyard