A Lunatic’s View of the Remainder of the World

Yesterday I met a raving lunatic named Jordan or some such. Well, it was my fault – I was out on the green, developing my brilliant new idea for making oldies fit and making me pot loads of money.

It’s called (probably) Karatesize, and it’s a genius way of using Karate Kata for exercise, and to bring a little of the violence back into the lives of the 60 plus generation. I presume there’s no copyright on Karate Kata? I do know that my bringing some Karate into my kiddies’ Bushido class was not popular with the Chief Instructor of the Association in the UK, who threatened to expel me as if that Association owns the whole of Karate. Not relevant to this blog! And a little too nerdy to carry on about.

To be honest that’s just an excuse. Submerging myself in Kata is the closest I can get to Mindfulness these days, or rather, Mindlessness.

Anyway so there I am flowing away in my itsy bitsy shorts in the waning September sun, when he looms up at me, six foot of semi-bearded lanky pedantry, saying ‘Not like that! Like this! Use your centre line!’

He was right of course. The move I was making was definitely rather off-centre, and from then on I was sucked into his world with mounting delight, somewhat tinged with anxiety.

The fellow was patently off his head. He was also drunk on vodka, high on several cans of energy drinks and reaching for a marijuana joint. Also, he was obviously highly skilled and experienced in a huge range of martial arts.

Added together, his style was Drunken Master.

I couldn’t suppress rising delight. I could feel the tethers which hold me to earth dissolving, as he joyfully and drunkenly interrupted anything I tried to say or do which was remotely sensible. Puns, disjointed but nihilistically pertinent, jokes and even wisdom. ‘See!’ he’d cry if a dog barked or a car parped, ‘the universe agrees with me!’

He’d arrived just in time.

Mother died about 4 weeks ago in San Diego. (Previous blog) I had been gutted at not having been able to fly over owing to the Pandemic.. Was it four weeks ago? And then last week in Shropshire I watched as putative Mother-in-Law took her last breath.

She had been a great friend to me. She starved to death. No-one’s fault but her own. She refused to go to hospital to find out the reason for the diarrhoea and why there was an obstruction in her throat stopping her from swallowing. There was no way to force her to go. Perhaps, with her suppurating elephantine legs and the diarrhoea she had had enough. Don’t blame her. But having had the privilege of watching that last breath was just too much for me, especially thinking of my mum dying without me there.

I have also had the horrible experience of the theft of a protagonist. Perhaps more about that later. Maybe.

…and then there’s Trrrrrump! Brexshit! Corona! Winter is coming!

So the Drunken Master, as I said, came just in time. There was Jordan, or some such name, to remind me. So many people try to remind me. To let go. Just let go. Slip the tethers of Earth. Before Mum died, I said that to her. It’s ok to let go. Before Jean died, I said the same to her. Now Jordan has said it to me.

Here’s a poem I wrote about it quite some time ago.

Letting go

Sorrow?

Let go!

Wanting you, so much…so

LongOut of touch

So Let go

And that’s just one but what about

You?

Yes you, and you.

I’ll let you go too.

I have to.

And not just you

I have to let this

And that and the other, too

And him and her

And you

Go

So Long.
…..
And also this, yes even this

No sorrow in the end

So better start now

I still love you all