My Spirit Guide said to turn left at the Dairy Queen (and they were wrong)

Oooooh, Spirit Guides (insert tinkly music)! Ultra-cosmic beings of serenity and wisdom, totally dedicated to your personal well-being. They tell you what you’re supposed to be doing with your life, right? They interpret your dreams, they tell you who not to marry, they assure you that you’re descended from someone cool like Genghis Khan or Patience Eggslap, and if you get a good one, they help you find your damn keys.

Well, your spirit guides (insert tinkly music), maybe. Mine spend a lot of time transmitting their wrestling matches over the last piece of bacon and trying to blame a variety of noises and smells on each other. I know who turned who’s laundry pink and who burned the noodles.

They’ve also kept me going all these years — just like friends tend to do.

My spirit guides (insert tinkly music) and I guide each other. We do all right, so far. They don’t know how to deal with the mysteries of existence any better than I do. (In fact, some insist that “shooting it” is a viable option.) They’re not wiser, or more holy, or even better at canasta than you or I; they’re just people, from a different plane of existence.

And when I think about it, that’s really the most important thing I ever needed to know about the esoteric state of the universe. As long as I know there is something else out there (or in here…is there a difference?), I don’t need it justified. Everything else becomes academic. Maybe I can figure that part out myself. Maybe I don’t need to. My “spirit guides” (insert tinkly music) and I are figuring it out together…but I suspect that the fact that we’ve connected at all is the only secret that ever needed to be discovered. Once that’s taken care of, the rest just falls into place.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe there’s a big towel fight in the kitchen.

Wait, who’s got my damn keys?

(insert tinkly music)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *