Here's what the doctor orders: dance, sing, laugh, shake your booty, go to the forests and the oceans, and live!!!!!

Date:   9/12/2005 1:03:58 AM ( 19 y ago)

It’s time to take our medicine.

It seems as though we’ve been getting sicker and sicker, weaker and weaker; our days are shorter and are nights are painfully longer. We can’t get up without moaning and groaning, or stand up for too long without our legs becoming weak and frail.

It’s time to take our medicine.

Whatever we do, however we feel, we must take this time to do what’s right and take our medicine. Our medicine is waiting. It’s time to take our medicine.

In what way can we be of service? How are we failing the others? How are we failing ourselves?

It’s time to take our medicine.

Looking high upon the mountain, we see our future waiting for us, but we’re far from being right. We must look within and do what is right.

It’s time to take our medicine.

The sickness we’ve created is overtaking everything. What we thought was real is illusion, and that illusion has taken on our illness. Our sickness is now the sickness of the planet, and it’s time to take our medicine.

We wait for someone to victoriously save us from all of this, but that is impossible, for the secret lies hidden from us, and always will be hidden: for we are the only ones who can do the saving.

It’s time to take our medicine.

Who says what is right or what is wrong? Who gives us the measurement by which we lead our own lives? Can it be that we are doing the wrong thing the wrong way, which furthers the spreading of our illness? Can it be that we are making our illness worse by taking the wrong prescriptions? Perhaps we are, indeed, being given the wrong medicine.

So here’s the prescription for the right medicine:

Lay off television. Lay off going to church. Lay off listening to the president. Lay off your girlfriend, your wife, your husband. Lay off work. Lay off your boss. Lay off anyone telling you how to live your life. Lay off driving. Lay off using your telephone, your computer, your nasal spray. Lay off your ideas. Lay off everything you did yesterday.

Now go. Go into the woods. Go into the waters of life and play, sing, jump for joy. Go crazy. Go meekly into the forests and dance with the elves and pygmies and beings you forgot existed. Drink the waters of life. Drink the elixirs of the gods. Go nuts. Go for it. Go to town riding on a pony. But just go. And leave everything behind.

This, my friends, is your medicine. And take it willingly, at high doses, and without a fuss. Three times a day for a year, take your medicine. Give up your ideas on how it will taste, how it will feel, or how it will work. Just take your medicine. And when you think you cannot take anymore, take some more.

When you’re tired of your medicine, put on some reggae music and dance. When you think it’s not working, put on some soul music and sing. When the medicine has you going out of your mind, dance on the streets like your soul has never seen before. Call your doctor and ask him if he’d like to try your medicine. And listen to your heart sing loudly with joy.

Your medicine will work because the medicine you are taking now is killing you. Eat, drink, snort, and imbibe this prescription before you even have a chance to make it to your pharmacist. Your pharmacist won’t be there when you arrive to have this new prescription filled, because I’ve just talked to him, and he’s gonna beat you to the woods and the forests and the ocean water. And if I do my job properly, maybe the president will beat the both of you to it, too.
 

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