I tried to watch the Pope's mass being broadcast from Philadelphia. Kiki was not having it, and after ten minutes demanded Disney Jr, so I recorded it to watch later.
When we were watching the mass Kiki maintained interest by repeatedly asking me what the Pope, priest, alter servers are wearing under their robes. She kept asking me, "What is under his robe?" I don't know for certain, but I told her my best guess, pants and a shirt.
Kiki's fascination with naked people has me optimistic she will pursue a career as a doctor. One time at a breakfast diner, she had me take her to the bathroom three times until I figured out she was captivated by a poster of Burt Reynolds posing on a bear skin rug, his infamous Centerfold shot, and wanted to chat about it. A relative of ours works at Mattel and brings Kiki a new Barbie every time we meet up. Upon opening the box, Kiki requests all the clothes be stripped off, regardless of if she is a dazzling holiday Barbie queen, or the most adorable sporty lifeguard, she is nude, and Kiki happily runs off examining her naked doll.
Of the Pope's mass, I was able to watch the beginning of the second reading. I found it suited my defeated disposition, and even considered the reading to be serendipitous. I needed to hear that if you have a hand that sins, cut it off, it's better to go to heaven maimed than go to Gehenna with two hands. I'm battling my own personal daemon, and it's humbling to realize that there is a time when, symbolically, cutting off my hand is going to serve a greater purpose, going to allow me to live a meaningful life. There could be a culmination of cosmic energy, the super blood moon and eclipse, that paved the way for a literal punch in the face, wake up call, on how to be a better person.
I don't ever remember hearing about blood moons before this last year, but I find it hard to believe that they are a new phenomena, since celestial settings are pretty much a constant at this point, aside from the misclassification of Pluto. I went on Twitter, and the first fifty tweets were about the blood moon, and the next fifty were about the pope, demonstrating a powerful collective consciousness this weekend. I've been reading a lot on parapsychology lately. Last night I read about proven effects of collective consciousness, one example being how random number generators are not random, showing patterns, at times where there is a strong collection of consciouses, like during the OJ Simpson Trial, 9/11, and Obama's first presidency win. Maybe Blood Moons are a study of collective consciouses, and this is all research conducted on the population and our collected focus, because I find it so peculiar that blood moons have only recently come into existence, and they occur so damn frequently.
My sister Lacey has been on Pope watch all day long. She called me throughout the day to give me Pope updates. She lives in Philly, where the Pope energy is palpable, and she was completely enthralled. First, she told me about how the Pope is rad because he drives a Fiat, and is going to open the world's eyes to environmental issues. Then she called to tell me he is having very bad sciatica, and looks pained. She informed me he prays at least two hours a day, which I think sounds right, since he's the pope. She was laughing as she told me he pulled his Fiat up to the back of the American Airlines plane, a hilariously inappropriate place to park a tiny car. She hung up, and then called me back minutes later. I picked up the phone to her laughing hysterically, telling me that a news reporter just explained how a congressman acted sheepish because he was caught stealing the Pope's water glass as a souvenir. After we stopped laughing, and got back to talking, she took a long drawn out sigh, and asked, "I wonder if the Pope is wearing underwear?"
I don't ever remember hearing about blood moons before this last year, but I find it hard to believe that they are a new phenomena, since celestial settings are pretty much a constant at this point, aside from the misclassification of Pluto. I went on Twitter, and the first fifty tweets were about the blood moon, and the next fifty were about the pope, demonstrating a powerful collective consciousness this weekend. I've been reading a lot on parapsychology lately. Last night I read about proven effects of collective consciousness, one example being how random number generators are not random, showing patterns, at times where there is a strong collection of consciouses, like during the OJ Simpson Trial, 9/11, and Obama's first presidency win. Maybe Blood Moons are a study of collective consciouses, and this is all research conducted on the population and our collected focus, because I find it so peculiar that blood moons have only recently come into existence, and they occur so damn frequently.
My sister Lacey has been on Pope watch all day long. She called me throughout the day to give me Pope updates. She lives in Philly, where the Pope energy is palpable, and she was completely enthralled. First, she told me about how the Pope is rad because he drives a Fiat, and is going to open the world's eyes to environmental issues. Then she called to tell me he is having very bad sciatica, and looks pained. She informed me he prays at least two hours a day, which I think sounds right, since he's the pope. She was laughing as she told me he pulled his Fiat up to the back of the American Airlines plane, a hilariously inappropriate place to park a tiny car. She hung up, and then called me back minutes later. I picked up the phone to her laughing hysterically, telling me that a news reporter just explained how a congressman acted sheepish because he was caught stealing the Pope's water glass as a souvenir. After we stopped laughing, and got back to talking, she took a long drawn out sigh, and asked, "I wonder if the Pope is wearing underwear?"
No comments:
Post a Comment