I will start at the end.
Today my friend and former high-school classmate sent me a picture from our yearbook of part of our class on the steps of St Patrick’s Cathedral giving a sermon. There I was a young man of 17 on the hallowed steeps of this historic Cathedral breaking off knowledge as if it was bread in order to feed the multitudes of the hungry questioning souls. I have taken the liberty of call this the Sermon on the Queefs. (For those who do not know a queef is an expulsion of wind from the vulva during coitus.)
We spent last Friday evening cruising the streets of both NY and Jersey City reminiscing and talking recklessly. I was reminded about my failure to behave at opportune moments like when I got kicked off the Speech and debate team (and other teams), how I put some underclass men in garbage cans (we were friends at the time), and made a mortal enemy of this chick by nicknaming her Stache after Tom Selleck the eponymous mustache wearing star of the 1980’s. And go figure it turns out I’ve been saying off the wall shit since high school. If we had camera phones, and all the amenities kids today have, it would have been a wrap for me.
Truth be told
I actually had fun. I feel that our culture sucks all the fun and vivaciousness out of life. I have always found that there is an underlying comedic thread that runs through life. To that end I have always identified with the the trickster energy or archetype.
In mythology, and in the study of folklore and religion, a trickster is a god, goddess, spirit, man, woman, or anthropomorphic animal who plays tricks or otherwise disobeys normal rules and conventional behavior. I like the shades of grey, that region bound by neither a or not A neither b or not B. Armed with fuzzy logic is how I like to look at the world. I like riddles and being confounded.
Which brings me back to the sermon on the Queefs. Was it in bad taste to give this sermon on the cathedral steps ? Perhaps, well it can’t be worst than child fucking on the inside the church.
I found it odd historically that in Christianity, the suffering Christ (when he is being tortured and eventually crucified) is called his passion. Choosing the word passion set humanity back a few hundred years. For example our warped interpretation of the word made the passion of coitus something shameful or illicit as well as partying to excess, and all forms or merry-making. It’s like for centuries under the grips of epic small-mindedness, we couldn’t understand that our animalistic urges and need for fun are not to be shunned and suppressed but they are a necessary part of our existence. I think that why working in a cold feeling-less cubicle is my nightmare, or working those jobs where all expression and displays of personality are frowned upon
I would think that the sacred and the profane are both sides of the same coin that allow as us to progress as persons or as spiritual beings or as whatever it is we/you are. I think that is where we make many mistakes focus too much on any one face of the coin and we become psychologically imbalanced. I’ve always felt balance was what was to be strived for
Anyways that is it. I hope I’ve inspired you to give your own sermon in an inappropriate place.