Well, woe is me. Karagöz is up to his tricks, this time with a “ghost post.” These puppets are so anxious to get ahead on posting for the new year, that they accidentally hit “publish” instead of “schedule” for a post they just inspired their human, me, the one who types, to write.
Zenne, well, true to form, she is even more of a nervous nellie, shaking like jelly that someone will be upset, or even un-friend us on Facebook, de-tweet us on Twitter or stop following us on email.
The chorus of dancing ladies, well, they just grumble and mumble from their usual spot in my purse as Bebe Ruhi asks me, over and over and over, “why do you do this? Why do you do this writing? What is the meaning of this writing? What do you think subconsciously led you to hit “publish” and why?”
Esma, the little hippie puppet, she looked at me – and just instructed me to assume the position, the lotus position, that is. Namely, it is time to meditate and consider this addiction to writing that has befallen me – and made me lose my senses.
At the mention of addiciton, Tiryaki stirs from his opium-laced sleep, opens one eye, surveys the tense situation, and falls immediately back to sleep.
And what do I say to the little hippie lady practically beating me with a lotus flower? “It’s a hell of a lot more fun than grading papers.” She has no argument.
And then Hacivad Bey shows up, and as usual, he has a quote from Rumi that leaves me ready to move on:
“Mistakes can also lead you to the Truth. Ask, the answer will be given.”