He was an ego and he couldn’t do anything about it. He was an ego and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He wasn’t a happy bunny then of course. He wasn’t a happy camper. Only the thing was that he couldn’t really understand what was going on and why he felt so downright crappy. That’s because he didn’t know he was an ego. He was an ego and he didn’t know it.
He was an ego and that was unfortunate, The wind had changed direction without any warning and so he was stuck like that. ‘There will be a wailing and gnashing of teeth’, so it was written. There shall be a great lamentation, the like of which has never heard before. Only not really – it was more of a great complaining and moaning.
There shall be a great complaining and moaning, to say nothing of the whinging and backbiting, to say nothing, to say nothing, to say nothing. To say nothing would be a blessing, a great blessing. Such as us do not deserve that blessing however. We deserve what we have got – it is our just deserts.
So it was that we were cast out of Paradise and caused to be egos, compelled to endure the wretchedness and misery that is our daily fare. ‘What will it be today?’ you ask, your serving ladle ready in your hand. ‘I’ll have the usual,’ says the first ego in the queue, ‘I’ll have a double helping of wretchedness and misery please…’
He was just another ego, the same as any other; a decent enough sort of ego but at the same time deeply flawed. Very deeply flawed – you could drive a double-decker bus through that flaw. You could drive an oil tanker through it. He was deeply flawed and yet decent enough for all that – a decent enough sort of chap. Polite and well intentioned, in a kind of a way. Just another ego like an egg in an egg-carton – An egg-like ego – fragile, yet at the same time complacent! A run-of-the-mill type ego with identity problems. The same as us all, in other words. No different from you or me.
A great wind had sprung up – the kind of wind that once it starts will never let up, will never blow out. The type of wind that drives all before it. No one likes this sort of wind. No ego likes this sort of wind, at any rate – it’s the end-game, that’s why. There’s no getting around it and there’s no getting away from it. That sort of wind gets right into your very bones that’s why it’s so frightening – it’ll blow you away and there’s nothing you or I or anyone else can do about it.
That’s the wind every ego fears, of course. We are all alike on that score, you see. We are all exactly alike on that score, no matter how tough we might like to think we are. What good is ‘tough’ when the wind of dissolution is blowing up your ass? How does ‘tough’ measure up when it’s the wind of dissolution you’re looking at? It gets under your skin and into your bones; picks you up as if you are no more than a tattered sheet of crumpled up newspaper that is being blown by a storm. It picks you up and it carries you off. It gets into your very sinews and blasts you apart.
We don’t like that wind, we egos. We have no fondness for it. It’s no joking matter, you might say. Not for us egos. That’s where all the jokes end. The joke stops here, as the saying goes. The joke stops when the old wind of dissolution gets us into its sights. When this wind starts up then it won’t ever stop you know – it won’t stop until we’re completely gone.
A sad story, don’t you think? A bit of an old emotional downer? Just a tad on the negative side, perhaps? Could do with being a bit more upbeat? Not really though. Not really, my friend. You see, the poor old ego never wanted to be an ego at all, not really. He was just kind of stuck like that. The wind suddenly changed direction on him, so to speak. First there was no wind, or maybe just a little bit of wind, or maybe a fair amount of wind, and then the next thing the wind abruptly changes direction on you and – bang! Bang and you’re stuck with the stupid face you were pulling, like some kind of dumb ejit, like some kind of jackass. You don’t half look like a plonker… The kids in the street are laughing at you. Some are frightened…
Then you’re stuck like that for a very long time, perhaps. For many years. For a life-time. Wondering the earth. Wandering here and wandering there in a perplexed and listless fashion. Not really knowing what you’re at. ‘I wandered lonely as an ego,’ as the man said. ‘I wandered lonely as a jackass…’ And then at last – at long last – up springs the wind of dissolution. Up springs the wind of dissolution at last and who’s to say that this isn’t a good thing?
