Firing the pistol that shoots my holy pride

DRAWING FLIES

Sitting here like uninvited company
Wallowing in my own obscenities
I share a cigarette with negativity
Sitting here like wet ashes with X's in my eyes
And drawing flies

Bathed in perspiration drowned my enemies
Used my inspiration for a guillotine
I fire a loaded mental cannon to the page
Leaning on the pedestal that holds my self denial
Firing the pistol that shoots my holy pride
Sitting here like wet ashes with X's in my eyes
And drawing flies

Hey what you yellin' about
Conditions, permission, mirrored self-affliction
Hey what you yellin' about
Sadists' co-addiction, perfect analogies
Hey what you yellin' about
Conditions, permission, mirrored self-affliction

Leaning on the pedestal that holds my self denial
Firing the pistol that shoots my holy pride
Sitting here like wet ashes with X's in my eyes
And drawing flies

I'm sure that the young, 20-something Chris Cornell who wrote this song years ago had no clue as to its Zen-ness. To him, it was probably nothing more than an expression of existential angst. But, man, if that isn't the human condition in a nut-shell. From our denial of the reality of what we are to the afflictions we create for ourselves, and letting all that crap get in our own way because we forget that we're a pile of wet ashes dying with every breath we take.

Most of the rewards we get in life come to us obliquely.
(Bernd Heinrich, A Year in the Maine Woods)

I'm not talking about anything as ambitious as getting off yer duff and realizing your life's dream. It's just being aware, every day, seeing the world as greater than ourselves, noticing the little, oblique things and relishing them. It can make all the difference in helping us let go of that holy pride.