egging around

Life is about sitting on an egg, — partially.

When you’re sitting on top of an egg,
– and be honest, I think we are all trying to hatch something, –
and nothing happens for too long,
there is something wrong with the egg you’re sitting on.

Nothing is wrong with you, — of course not.
You did your time and probably more than was necessary.

No bird sits on an egg longer than they intrinsically know they have to, and neither should we.

If you want to bring something about:
manifest something,
change your circumstance, change your beingness.
If nothing happens,
get off and find another egg.

If you water a seed or seedling and it doesn’t grow,
you don’t continue indefinitely, do you?
Cui bono?
There must be a benefit; else, what are you doing it for?

Maybe herein lies the problem:
We are the egg and the hen.
Between being both we get side-tracked.
We hen around when we should also egg around.
And both hen and egg have a best before date too.
Or, perhaps our egg got swapped while we were inattentive or in cloud-cuckoo-land. We might be sitting on a dinosaur egg that takes epochs to hatch,
and we only have a human lifetime.
Another more sinister reason could be that there is no egg for us. A hiccup in nature, an oversight, or perhaps a deliberate message of:
“You are wasting your time here, you should be somewhere else, sorry (hu)man, internal error, – reboot.”

I don’t think sitting on an egg is that much fun,
especially when the dream of what that egg was supposed to become has lost its verve.

In the process of incubation and brooding, you have probably also attracted a severe bout of eggshaustion.
Rest is advised but time is limited because it is now already ‘time minus one egg’.

Time and eggs clearly have some agreement.
Maybe ten time units are one egg unit, or who knows?
And, you are entering into major guesswork as to how many time and egg units are available to you.

At this stage of disillusionment with reality and eggs, you might want to run away to an island and just hangout and relax.

When that escape starts feeling like another egg, is it now the right egg? There’s nobody really around that could answer that question. Eggvisors are few and far between, if not entirely mythical. And, other islanders egging it out don’t strike you as the right reference model.

It is not inconceivable that at this moment you might decide,
“WTF, I’ll just grab an egg that looks nice and sit on it and see.”

The point is that when that first egg doesn’t hatch
and we finally decide to move on to another egg,
unless some inbuilt direction finder kicks in
and sets our compass pointing north again in our life,
we could become abandoned eggs or hens without a head.

Now, the second (nth) time around,
we have to apply extra amped-up effort and employ every ounce of skill and wisdom to bring our life together and make sense of it,
— and not accept a watered-down make-believe or a shortlived fake brochure version, —
so we can find that satisfaction which is inherent when our right egg hatches.

Advertisements

Parable of Ega and Oge

Ega and Oge were walking down the Avenue la Vie.

Ega, perpetually smiling with red lips, glistening eyes, long dark lashes and golden nails, was dressed young and fashionable, – petit, attractive and light hearted as she indulged in life.
Oge, serious as always, with a frown, wearing the fake cloak of importance with the misleading hat of wealth in the squeezing shoes of worldliness, sunken in thoughtful misery, regretted the journey.

They stopped at the Café Devineresse and sat down.

“Monsieur, Madame, what shall it be,” the attentive waiter asked?

“I will have the troubled life with extra problems and the gloomy future,” Oge sniped, “with a glass of bitter memories, – stirred.”
“Oui monsieur, – I see, the usual then, and liberally sprinkled with financial woes and health issues.”

“And you Madame?”

“I will have the hot, rich lover on a bed of laughter, a side dish of extra fun, a few wonderful surprises and a tall cocktail of pleasure and happiness.”
“You have an exquisite taste for our specialties Madame,” the waiter whispered behind his cupped hand, not to enrage Oge.

He hurried away with the order and reported back to the owner of the establishment known by the name of Dieu Gracieux.

“My goodness,“ Dieu ventured to say, “Oge has still not learned to order our specialties, and he has such a beautiful, lovely wife as an example.”

“Oui, Oui Mon Dieu Gracieux,” the waiter replied, ”I presume then that we will serve what he has requested?”

“At the Café Devineresse we will always serve what our esteemed clientele desires,” Dieu Gracieux stated, and proceeded to create the order.

Ega and Oge are anagrams of age and ego
Avenue la Vie is the avenue of life
Café Devineresse is the Soothsayer’s (foretell the future) cafe
Dieu Gracieux is God Graceful