Secret Ballot

What is today? I have no indication of what is relevant to this moment? Is it Friday? Do I really have about 14,875 days full of moments like these in front of me, fewer than the ones behind me? I have given too much relevance to the concept of an entity with my birthname. I do not exist. I am a temporary confluence, a speck of dirt on the flea on the crow in the Panchatantra. I am the dung beetle's ball on the Silk Road, the pebble under the camel's foot. The four winds have no meaning to me because I am also a portion of a gamma ray waving from a distant pulsar. Waveless. Waved. Permed.

Despite this, I receive invitations to join. Who voted me in? Who counted the votes? Do you not know Groucho Marx? I belong to his species. We want no part of the club to which we'd belong. We do not exist. We are merely illusions. Free. Seek first to Learn. Then to Understand. Never any time for Joining. Be a Do Be, Not a Dilettante.