Belushi World


Alive…from new worlds… it’s Saturday Night… alive?

My awakening is very frightening. Yes, I feel stimulated, excited, I’m starting to anticipate.

I feel unsettled stirrings inside. Hot, molten risings fill rock hard veins as the surface above rises ominously.

What will happen if I let this feeling go on? My surface feels like it will pop and explode if I do. There will be no stopping it then.

So I lie settled and restless. But the stirrings still stir. They want to come out. The pleasure begins again. So good, so full, so ready to burst – I’m afraid…!

But then…

But then…

I make it through. I am alive. I am relieved. My sky is filled with smoke and I am covered in a blanket of warmth.

I have one super-continent that belts my globe north and south. There is no water passage that crosses it at any point, even at its thinnest widths.

I have two oceans that, unlike the single intermingling body of ocean on my home planet Earth, are completely separated. The only mixture of moisture possible between my two oceans is the evaporation of one into the clouds where it rains down on the other.

I have dark brown ridges delineating the deepest, widest and longest canyons.

I have dark green patches where the humid rain realm thrives.

My high yellow deserts are dry, but my light green plains are dewy and lush.

My oceans feel the waves from outer space. My sky is a membrane covering the great water vision. My waters look to the stars, and as the dense smog clears from the air I learn the universe I’ve been born of.

Even as I gaze out I think back. A cat. A cow. A robot. A human. And now, a planet. I have been so many strange things, this human from a planet “Earth”. No. I am so many things.

I speak to other planets that share the space of our stars. None of us belong to just one star. All of us switch from time to time, when stars come close enough to feel.

I dance with other planets when our orbits bring us near. We throw rocks to each other across the void, touching intimately, blending forever.

My birth star showers me with stardust unexpectedly. I am happy. I feed. I rest.

A stinging asteroid pierces my skin, burning me and blasting my serenity! I hate it!

I crackle with electricity, snapping dormant molecules to life!

Things wiggle about and squiggle within me. Things tickle and jiggle me, drill me and spackle me. They’re changing me!

I’m experiencing time at an incredible speed. The universe goes on ceaselessly spinning around me and I dimly recall my life as a man…

As a man, I, too, was the home of more parasites than there are stars in the Milky Way. I wasn’t aware of them most of the time. But a human couldn’t find peace enough to be aware of much more than taxes and heart attacks.

As a man I was trained to feel alone. My identity was forged for me by a seemingly random assemblage of indoctrinated adults. By the age of two I was being persuaded to feel like a sinner, guilty of being too curious, of living too close to the orchard of original knowledge. By teenage years I was coerced to believe myself responsible for everything I did, which had better include “making a living” – as if I wasn’t living already – and for acting on any beliefs brainwashed upon me by the adults who raised me. By adulthood I was processed into a routine, deluded into believing that human concerns were the only thing that mattered. There were years when I never looked up at the stars…

A planet never feels alone.

A planet needs no privacy.

I twirl, I pirouette, I race through space dancing with the stars.

My face, my body, my being is a receiver of cosmic news, a blender of universal information.

Know me for what I am. Meet me with what you are. My sensations and experiences reach deeper than a human can imagine. I am never alone. I am never one.

I am always the multitude, the collective, the child.