The Televisionary Oracle (71 page)

That is it for “Pronoiac Prophecies,” beauty and truth fans. Hope you enjoyed them. I would now like to turn things back over to the Head Shamanatrix herself, Rapunzel Blavatsky.

Rapunzel?

Thanks, Osiris, and hi again, beauty and truth fans. I’m very pleased to let you know that this is an incredibly perfect moment. It’s a perfect moment for many reasons, but especially because I have been inspired to say a gigantic prayer for all of you. I’ve been roused by your gorgeous vibes to unleash a divinely greedy, apocalyptically healing prayer for each and every creature who can hear me—even those of you who don’t believe in the power of prayer.

And so I am starting to pray right now to the God of Gods … the God beyond all Gods … the Girlfriend of God … the Teacher of God … the Goddess who invented God.…

O Dear Goddess, Who Never Kills But Only Changes:

I pray that my exuberant, suave, and accidental words will move you to shower ferocious blessings down on all the beauty and truth fans who hear this prayer.

I pray that you will give them what they don’t even know they want. Not just the boons they think they need, but everything they’ve always been afraid to even imagine or ask for.

Dear Goddess, You Wealthy Anarchist Burning Heaven to the Ground:

Many of the divine chameleons out there don’t even know that their souls will live forever. Please use your blinding magic to help them see that they are all wildly creative geniuses too big for their own bodies.

Guide them to realize that they are all completely different from what they think they are and more exciting than they can possibly imagine.

Make it illegal, immoral, irrelevant, unpatriotic, and totally tasteless for them to be in love with anyone or anything that’s no good for them.

Oh dear Goddess, Who Gives Us So Much Love and Pain Mixed Together That Our Morality Is Always on the Verge of Collapsing:

I beg you to cast a boisterous love spell that will nullify all the black magic that has ever been cast on all the wise and sexy geniuses out there.

Remove, banish, annihilate, and laugh into oblivion any jinx that has clung to them, no matter how long they’ve suffered from it, and even if they’ve become accustomed or addicted to its ugly companionship.

Conjure an aura of protection around them so that they will receive an early warning if they are ever about to act in such a way as to bring another hex or plague or voodoo into their lives.

Dear Goddess, You Sly Universal Virus with No Fucking Opinion:

I pray that you will help all the personal growth addicts within the sound of my voice to become disciplined enough to go crazy in the name of creation not destruction.

I pray that you will teach them the difference between oppressive self-control and liberating self-control.

Awaken in them the power to do the half-right thing when it is impossible to do the totally right thing. Arouse the Wild Woman within them—even if they’re men.

And please, dear Goddess, give them bigger, better, more original sins and wilder, wetter, more interesting problems.

Oh Goddess, You Pregnant Slut Who Scorns All Mediocre Longing:

I pray that you will inspire all the compassionate fuckers out there to love their enemies just in case their friends turn out to be jerks.

Provoke them to throw away or give away all the things they own that encourage them to believe they are better or more special than anyone else.

Show them how much fun it is to brag about what they cannot do and do not have.

Most of all, Goddess, brainwash them with your freedom so that they never love their own pain more than anyone else’s pain.

Dear Goddess, You Psychedelic Mushroom Cloud at the Center of All Our Brains:

These curiously divine human beings I am communing with deserve everything they are yearning for and much much more.

Please arrange for a statue to be built in their honor, or a memento of their genius to be launched into orbit around the Earth, or a flurry of gossip to be spun out by smart people who adore them.

Help them win the battle against time, and learn to talk the language of the most scientific angels, and master the zen of temper tantrums, and get a fabulous mommy and daddy in their next incarnation.

Teach them to push their own buttons and unbreak their own hearts and right their own wrongs and sing their own songs and be their own wives and save their own lives.

And please give them lots of gifts, dear Goddess. More gifts than
they think they deserve. Bless them with lucid dreams while they are wide awake and solar-energy-operated sex toys that work even in the dark and vacuum cleaners for their magic carpets and a knack for avoiding other people’s hells and a secret admirer that is not a psychotic stalker and a thousand different masks that all fit their face perfectly and their very own 900 number so that everyone has to pay to talk to them.

Oh Goddess, You Fiercely Tender, Hauntingly Reassuring, Orgiastically Sacred Feeling That Is Even Now Running Through All Our Soft Warm Animal Bodies:

I pray that you provide all the compassionate fuckers out there with a license to bend and even break all rules, laws, and traditions that keep them apart from the things they love.

Show them how to purge the wishy-washy wishes that distract them from their daring, dramatic, divine desires.

And teach them that they can have anything they want if they’ll only ask for it in an unselfish tone of voice.

And now dear God of God, God beyond all Gods, Girlfriend of God, Teacher of God, Goddess who invented God,

I bring this prayer to a close, trusting that You have begun to change everyone in the exact way they’ve needed to change.

And if I’ve forgotten anything that will help their cause, please flash it into my imagination in the coming days and months and decades, and motivate me to perform any tricks or carry out any project that will encourage an abundant flow of sweaty creativity to flow through them, inspiring them to become more wildly disciplined, compassionately horny, aggressively sensitive, ironically sincere, lyrically logical, insanely poised, and macho feminist.

Amen. Awomen. And glory halle-fucking-lujah.

There you have it, beauty and truth fans. A personalized prayer just for you. A prayer that’ll probably come true simply because you didn’t even ask for it.

You may now kiss yourself on your own lips.

Delirious waves of gratitude are pouring out from me towards my psychotherapist Jennifer Welwood, my daughter Zoe Brezsny, my friend Joseph Matheny, my teachers Paul Foster Case and Ann Davies, and my freaky crony and luck buddy Rapunzel Blavatsky. Their help and inspiration were crucial.

Sincere yowls of thanks go to Shoshana Alexander, Richard Grossinger, and Chuck Stein for extremely useful feedback on the ripening text, as well as to Kathy Glass for stupendous copyediting.

Booming thunderclaps of lusty reverence spiral out to the best deity in the universe—the funniest, smartest, and most lovable deity—the Great Goddess Herself.

Rob Brezsny is an aspiring master of curiosity, perpetrator of sacred uproar, and founder of the Beauty and Truth Lab. He writes “Free Will Astrology,” a syndicated weekly column that reaches an audience of millions in over 100 publications and on his website,
FreeWillAstrology.com
.

As much a storyteller as astrologer, Brezsny brings a literate, myth-savvy perspective to his work. When
Utne Reader
named him a “Culture Hero,” it summed up his role this way: “With a blend of spontaneous poetry, feisty politics, and fanciful put-on, Brezsny breathes new life into the tabloid mummy of zodiac advice columns.”

Before
The Televisionary Oracle
, many of Brezsny’s artistic artifacts were music albums. He created one as a solo artist, one with the band Tao Chemical, and three with the “Jungian beatnik funk” band World Entertainment War. Among the latter was a major-label CD that was nominated for a “Bammie,” California’s version of the Grammies. It benefited from the promotional wizardry of rock’s top impresario, Bill Graham, who managed World Entertainment War until his death.

Since the publication of
The Televisionary Oracle
, Truthrooster (as he is called when attending festivals) has also created the book
Pronoia Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings
.