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“What do the ants represent? They are the conscious or pre-conscious choice and consent to remain ignore-ant of ones essential nature.”
“Consider how ignorance strengthens ego.”
“What part of Xavier does ‘Wanger’ represent? Higher-self, cowardice, reticence, empathy, choice?”
Ignore-ANTS THAT MOVE PEBBLES
The rain’s bony fingers tapped nervously on the windowpanes. As my mind floated, a belly laugh erupted as I imagined what the used-motor home business was going through. Funny, that’s what I thought about most, the mundane and useless… at least up until the sky opted to bequeath hailstones the size of hockey pucks, and with twice the fury. Still, at the time, it was hilarious to imagine leisure-suited salesmen running for their lives, protecting their heads from the onslaught.
No one could walk, drive, or sleep during such storm. The next thunderclap shook the walls, and at the tail end I heard, “Chingón, ignore that downpour, the flood, that undertow alleging I’m only a dream. We’re standing here, with our masks, looking at each other. I’ll narrate the images and you’ll open your mind. Comprende?”
I nodded in agreement.
“Puñetero, no-thing is permanent, not even government-issued MRE’s. Comprende? Own all the taco shops on the street corner of choice. Hogtie the individual withtemporal ropes,even to the extent of giving them the 'savior' they’ve been waiting for.”
The heavens hammered the Tavern. A howling hellion of a wind opened its spigot as Chumba continued, “If you grab the megaphone and announce you’re the top Luchador before you win the prize belt, expect to be kicked in the huevos! Hit-lore, Stalling, Mao Meow, Ho Chi Minh Who Flung Poo, Pol Pot Head, El Gringo Loco… all were chilitos burned to a cinder. Dust flying up from their hooves, they’re rotting because they moved against the torrent for all to see.”
I insisted, “I can do it!”
“Xavier, I’m confident you won’t eradicate all of ‘humanity’ and forfeit the opportunity to swindle the intent of those remaining. Most importantly, don’t be like that bastard Gustavo who chose not to conquer the world. Ahhh, I’m embarrassed to have him as my brother.”
“If I did, my victory would be short lived,” I responded.
“Xavier, if your fans and workers are no longer needed to sew Luchador fighting memorabilia, then your spoils become spoiled. I tell you, now is the time to give them lots of cerveza and prize Luchador posters while you bleed their remaining tomato picking skills. If the herd, uh, audience catches on, or eats more nachos than can be reliably produced, then we’ll have the stadium collapse to cull their numbers. Oye!We’ll blame it on the clown, watch as the surviving crowd panics, then strut in and offer to remove the debris.”
Wind whined and groaned against the window.
“Hey Chumba, we’re actuallyranchersthat the cattle need! They want us to play that part.”
“Si Xavier, so why have you thrown away yourStetson?Disrespect for your hat makes me wonder if I’m going to find you in a puddle of blood, having committed suicide by three gun shots to the cabeza.”
Steady for a few minutes, the rain blasted into a downpour. It stopped for a second, moved vertical to horizontal, East to West, water to ice.
Crash! Clang!
An assaultive pounding intruded. Thump thump thump thump thump! “Ya’ll fixin’ ta get a whuppin’ in there real soon? Who in hell are you talking to in der?”
“Is that the fool Wanger outside my bathroom?” Chumba asked. He was nowhere to be seen, but his voice filled my head.
“Yeah, I think so,” I replied.
“It’s me, Wanger. Ain’t you listenin’? You walkin’ in tall cotton in there? You need to look outside like the dogs was after you.”
Wanger was an annoying crow.
“Xavier, quit babbling and git outta der! Yer slower than molasses...”
Wanger’s voice betrayed tremor. He feared the storm!
Chumba’s voice continued, “Keep the chilangos arguing about whether the champions jockstrap is black or pink. Our fans are what we want them to be; unwilling to take responsibility for spilling their popcorn, carrying two different signs for when either Luchador appears victorious. The Luchadors generosity creates exclusive seating as needed. Whether arena majorities vote to gas their opposing fans, ringside republics share their seats, or good-guy Luchador billionaires hide themselves in VIP boxes, all pass into the storm drain, towards tiranía hermosa, the beautiful tyranny. Attempting to leap over the torrent with mandated seating charts only extends its inevitable end, as if limiting power removes the nature of the audience! A never-ending telenovela of distraction!”
I agreed, nodding and prancing around.
“And which pendejo thinks clearly when they’re absorbed in discovering badge wearing solutions to thewarped reflection of the soul?”
Encouraging the rant, I grunted affirmatively.
“Unfortunately, theessential natureessential nature is never hot-branded by the state. So wipe your drool, because the core essence is to be revealed - the one we keep nestled in El Luchador’s chonies!”
Wanger entered the bathroom and waded through, hoisting his pant legs above the sewage.
“Flash flood’s coming, Xavier! We gotta skedaddle!” He eyed my soaked and stinking clothes. “What in tarnation happened?”
“Wanger, go back to your beer.” I opened the windows to look outside. Rain poured through the cracks.
Wallowing through the muck, he turned. “Xavier, you better high-tail it!”
Ants – Those who are inside the carnival, yet do not see, or want to see themselves as so. 'Ignor-ant' is an emphasized extension of the word ‘ignore’. To be ‘ignorant’ is a symptom of ‘ignoring’, or avoiding complete realizations for alternate reasons. Many are inside the carnival, but have chosen to remain largely unaware there's an ‘outside’.
“The ego itself is self-limiting. While seeking to increase power, the ensuing separation undermines its very success.”
“Is Chumba saying that the systems of government, science, religion and tradition all come & go... while still insisting that higher rebellion can surf the currents of duality?”
