Thank you. I will now begin the boring
lull after Molly Ivins. I was trying to think of what stumbling,
stuttering things I could say that might inspire you. That
was sort of what we were told we had to do, to come up with
something moderately inspirational. And then I will rise,
hopefully, to the occasion. You be the judge. I come from
a family of fairly well-educated people, and I’m proud
to say that I barely squeezed out of high school. But, while
I could have been in college, I spent the four years driving
around in a van with ten other very smelly men, and drove
around the country insisting on playing whatever gig we could
get, and we got some good attitude from it, too, and maybe
some tidbits of wisdom. And I was wondering what I could say
today, and I hope that the question I ask doesn’t sound
like too much, although it will sound like a hell of a mouthful,
but then I’ll try and moderate it by explaining myself.
I’ve thought quite often versions of this question,
“What is our obligation to God?” Having said that,
I sorda consider myself in a way a non-believer. Certainly
I don’t believe that I’m quite convinced in the
same God that “Shrub” does, up there in the White
House. I can’t imagine a sort of Santa Claus kind of
God in his long robe-y pajamas sitting there watching us,
making sure everything is happy and hunky and occasionally
choosing sides like he’s watching a football game, and
scream “kickass.” But I do find myself praying
a lot, and I don’t know what I pray to, but it seems
like I pray to the undamaged things, to the natural things,
to breasts before enhancement, to they way that a child runs
across the lawn, to trees or to a forest. I pray to those
things; to the mountain. That’s where I think God might
be at least: the mountain next to Mt. Rushmore. Although Mt.
Rushmore is impressive, it’s not as impressive as it
was prior to the damage done to it. So, what is our obligation
to this God I don’t really believe in? I was watching
TV, this is where I get wisdom, sorry I’m stumbling,
this always happens to me, I’m going to be quick, I’ll
be fast and I’m going to start talking faster, I haven’t
had enough coffee. I was watching TV, which is one of the
places I get my wisdom, my vast and deep wisdom. I was watching
and I was bouncing through the channels and then there was
a show, I think it was on HBO or maybe Link TV or something
like that, it was on some channel. It was a show about a religion,
and they were interviewing different religious scholars. I
think it was about Judaism. There was a guy describing what
he thought God wanted from us. I think he was a rabbi, or
maybe he wasn’t, but I think he had a beard. He said
that God doesn’t want us to be something specific; he
doesn’t want us to follow a rule book. He made us, or
God made us—I’m saying he out of habit. I’m
sure he doesn’t have the tackle to necessarily be a
he. That would be sort of pointless. But he said that God
made you what you are, so why would he want you to be something
other than you are. Why would he want you to pretend you are
something you are not, because your heart is what God made
it. And so, our responsibility to God, however difficult it
is, is to be what we are. To be present, not to put up a façade
that makes us feel safer. It’s not always easy. I’m
faking it a lot of times. I wish I could fake it a little
better right now. Although in a way you are more vulnerable
and vile things happen to you when you experience joy, you
get a mouthful of it, you know when you experience goods things.
Because it comes right to you, you’re right there, because
you’re not busy trying to make sure no one notices that
behind that perfect, or average, or fitting-in façade
is really what God made you. So be yourselves I guess is what
I wanted to say. Be present. I have a little poem that I was
going to read because I think that this guy was much more
able to say what I said in the last five minutes—or
ten if it feels like that—in just a couple of lines.
I went to Australia and I found this poet that I don’t
think has landed on these shores, and I thought he was kind
of magical. And it’s May, and this is called, “A
Prayer in May.” And it says, it starts, “God relieve
the dark unease. God of valves untie my throat, and God let
sink the weight of mind to the belly of heart’s content.”
Thank you very much to everybody for having me today. So save
the world now by being yourself.
