The Circle of Life
Well ya can’t blame them people in the lower reaches of Nepal for thinkin’ the sky is fallin’ down. They’ll be walkin around outside an’ bones keep fallin’ from the sky from time to time. HUMAN bones come hurtlin’ down with a thud at that. They’re lucky not to get beaned by ‘em. What they don’t know is that there’s a tribe o’ people livin’ up in the far upper reaches of the Himalayas where nobody but them can breathe, let alone carve out an existence. What they do when somebody dies is to march their corpses even further up the mountain, an’ after a ceremony chop the dead bodies up into bite sized pieces an’ scatter them for the vultures to eat. The vultures o’ course have a feast an’ then take target practice on the unsuspecting people in the valleys below.
I was sittin’ in the bathroom yesterday mornin’, thinkin’ about the circle o’ life when it came to me that that’s exactly how things go. It’s just one big circle. I mean, we’d gone shoppin’ for groceries just the day before an’ brought home a cartful o’ stuff. By the time the Missus got everythin’ put away an’ done her cookin’, which we then got to eatin’, there was a bag o’ garbage to be taken out again. See what I mean? It all goes round an’ round in one big circle. That’s what I was thinkin’, sittin on my throne in the bathroom.
So much for body parts. What comes around goes around. Nothin’ really changes except for its composition. In the end we have exactly what we started with even in its recycled form. Well, supposin’ now that in the very beginnin’ when things was bein’ made, like people an’ animals an’ bugs an’ such, there was just so many that would fit on the face o’ the earth. Of course, they all had to have spirits, or at least an energy to animate ‘em an’ make ‘em come alive. Well suppose you got a gazillion critters already made, each with its own energy. That makes a gazillion energies you gotta do somethin’ with. So you trade ‘em off, one for another. Thus the theory of reincarnation begins to make perfect sense, ‘specially in Nepal. In this life you coulda’ been a human and the next you might be one o’ them Jackasses haulin’ freight up the mountain trail for tourists. Or you coulda’ been a cockroach turned into a human. Ya never know.
It’s an interestin’ concept to think about. Who knows, might even be true, or at least that’s how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.