…the C-of-C-C Newsletter romance and relationship advice column
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Dear Sarge,
“Why is it that I meet so few women who are into metaphysics? None of them seem to have the slightest interest in where we come from and what we are doing here. How can they be so oblivious to these questions that make our existence an interesting experience?”
—Ken from Seattle
Dear Ken,
Wake up, pal. It’s right in front of your eyes.
Women aren’t interested in these questions because they are the Mystery—and they’re just not into going any deeper. They embody it. That’s enough to ponder for a lifetime, all by yourself.
Like Iris DeMent, in her appropriately titled album Infamous Angel, women are too busy being the Mystery to worry about what it is. And why should they?
Besides, once they have children, they’ve got so much to do. Do we really want them staring off into the distance or reading books all the time?
Come on. You’ll have enough to do earning a living. Do you want to be doing dishes and changing diapers, too?
I could tell you were from the Northwest.
Closer to the Mediterranean—where I come from—we’ve known this for eons: Women are the epitome of the union of the sacred and the profane. They are, all at once, an example of the best and worst that life offers us.
(My mother is the exception—being an example of the saintly alone. Didn’t I say I’m from the Mediterranean?)
Take heart, Ken. As we speak, there are young women being raised who will make excellent wives someday. Be patient. Just get out of the city and find them.
Watch out for the snakes, though—and approach with the best of intentions.
Every father and brother out there knows how to handle a shotgun.
—
Best of Luck,
Sergeant Pepe
(From his garden, tending to his little carrots and sweet peas)
COUNCIL-OF CONCERNED-CONSERVATIONISTS…..Between Jest And Earnest….. 