The legend of the meat suit

"Who told you that you are naked?"

God must have been puzzled at human's sudden need to cover themselves with bits of shrubbery. Surely that can't be comfortable. Surely it can't be as durable as the skin they're already wearing. The next lines from God's mythic mouth have been lost by poor transcription and eons of muddy translation. But I wonder ~

"You already had clothes on! I made you that nice meat suit to wear. It's a perfect little away-garment for while you are experiencing this sensual world. Now don't tell me that you got the idea into your head that when I made the meat suit I was making YOU? No no...who got that idea? The man did? oh...."

And so went the first of many cascading less-than-perfect ideas. The funny part is how mistakes can be so normal after a while that we forget to question them. They become projected out as part of the reality we imagine for all beings in the universe. Won't we just be surprised when folks show up from Jupiter's moon, all stark staring naked, and ask us to turn up the warmth-consciousness on our planet? Maybe they'll send us all to detox to remedy a rampant addiction to our physical bodies.

It's no simple matter to get over body addiction. After he passed my father lumbered through my dreams for months, confused as to why no one could see or hear him. He responded when we talked but we didn't turn our heads. He felt more spry and healthy than he had in years but no one seemed to care.

"How come you can hear me?" he asked one morning while we walked through some park filled with blue trees and purple sand.

I turned to him and asked "Who told you that you are dead?" He waived an arm at me and shook his head. Me and my crazy ideas.

But, in the coming months he would begin to show up in different forms. I knew him only by imprint as he was realizing that the identity that came with the recently discarded meat suit wasn't necessary. He floated through in all manner of ways, only taking on the face-of-Dad that I remembered when he needed to step in and show urgent disgust for some boy that I had just met.

It all makes perfect sense - until it doesn't. Aliens can get a pass on nudity. Humans? not so much.

Carl yanks me out of dream world again. I stuff my head in the blanket to snooze for as long as i dare before I know I must get up. It's not quite so light at 6 am yet that I can see clearly but not so dark anymore that I feel the need for lights. In this greyscale world I stand in front of the closet, hoping that the garments I pick look ok together and that I don't look like a color copy of Mr. Caffeine again. If that man owns a moss green shirt I'll just...have to take mine off!