Did you hear that?
Well, I guess, hear you.
Yes, you. Who are you?
I’m Subucon. Some like to snuggle up and call me Subby, but you can call me Buc.
Where did that name come from?
Just need to reveal the heart of the matter. Front and back, chop two, and what remains of Subucon, is staring back at you?
Oh, yeah. Buc. The Pittsburgh Pirates are Bucs. Do you think… (Buc butts in midsentence).
Sorry, I cut you off, Craignito, but given the nature of our quest, and the fact that we’ve been bunkmates ever since we both were born, I know the truth of what you are about to say, before you ever say a word; so, please, leave it to me, I really do know best. To replace that puzzled look that’s crept across your face, let me remind you that it is I, who is the I that’s directly connected to the universal reservoir of supply, and, because of this, who really has your back by-and-by. Certainly, not that mysterious trickster, Mr. Ego, who prefers to serve himself before all others; and for him, I guess, even universal principles do not apply.
Although you are aware, understand, and occasionally this is very evident in something you are about to say, and then deny; this latest MKMMA “No Opinions – Law of Compensation” assignment has put you into a bit of a pickle. Let’s put it this way, we would be well on our way to independent wealth, if for each unsolicited, unbridled opinion given, we received just one solitary nickel.
Fortunately, very fortunately for you, when they were passing them around (although not actually the way it happened), the Buc stopped here. “Why is that?” you would have asked, had I let you. So, I answer, for purposes of this story: you have been giving the brain of the ancient ones. The ancient ones being primitive men and women, who first walked this earth without the conscious awareness that everyone has today. Just like you are hearing my voice, they heard voices, too. When it came to matters of fight or flight, man depended upon these voices to tell them what to do. Then, between 5-10,000 years ago, these voices began disappearing – one by one, two by two. During this period of great uncertainty, consciousness arrived to make its presence known; giving each person the ability to choose and decide for themselves – so much so, they’d grown. Hearing voices in this day and age can be a boon or a curse – a source of divinely inspired guidance to help unravel the chaos each of us must deal; or a source of very unpleasant, additional confusion, driving more than a few to complete insanity, in knowing not what to trust as real.
Now, going back about four paragraphs to your unspoken question. When it comes to baseball, it is, indeed, the association of Bucs with buckaroos and Buccaneers that lends a degree of family friendliness that steers the mind away from those things pirates like to do; and, yes, it is a play on words to name their football team the “Steelers.” When it comes to football, at least, no need to hide a pirate’s preoccupation; in a steely town, no need to garb in a pirate’s gown, for all the world to view.
And now with my voice filling your head, you are asking yourself , half in dread, “Did I go too far, too many times, thinking out loud, so over-emotionally?” For after all, that’s what crazy people are known for, and as for them, certainly, nothing new; especially, schizophrenics, with all those voices in their head – and, now, I am hearing voices, too. So much so, in fact, simply getting a word in edge-wise has become a difficult thing to do.
Okay, just to set the record straight, my objectively-minded friend, who’s been left in charge as my watchman at the gate. If anyone happens to overhear and think you’re crazy as a loon for what he hears you saying; no need for care or worry, about the choice of tune he is playing. Was it really he, who picked the song and all the words he’s saying? Or the societal illusion that selects their use that goes around his neck like a hangman’s noose?
When the power of an undulating ocean carries every notion, and no less in rapid torrents, the rhythmic currents of great rivers carry every dream *. You’ve heard of autosuggestion as a way to re-program, – thus optimize the mind. Then I suggest that being on autopilot is part of the package, with its opportunity to unwind. This allows for focused observation of everything that happens without reservation, or want of hesitation when going with the flow. As sure may be each destination, and deeply this we know, makes getting there much more the fun. With awareness at full attention, more likely captures the surprise of each moment that so sudden right beside us, just as quickly on by us, always they do run.
So, Buc, who are you really? Who gives advice when silence is smart, and yet at other times, it’s quite okay to appear out of control, loud, and very silly?
You really don’t know do you? Although you’ve done your best to see? I’m the guy in the mirror, who heard how much you loved me, and it is this love you see that set me free to speak with thee!
Warning! Warning! Danger! Danger! (Please be advised that these words have been selected for the novelty of being the robot’s words so often heard while watching “Lost in Space.” They have no connection with either the content of this blog, or the kind of emotional reaction usually invoked)
You know was rather startling here, my friend? With everything that’s just been said, we’ve only just now reached the place I had intended to be starting, and not the very end. Waiter! Waiter! More pages, more pages, or perhaps another post! There’s so much more we will be giving, and, if deemed worthy enough, hoist high our glass and toast!
* Not to be confused with the River of Dreams, which is a slang term that usually refers to your local sewage line.