Life is indeed good shit . . . . .

The prominent feature of my childhood toilet was a wooden flushing handle hanging at the end of a long chain from an overhead tank with ivy growing out of it. Quite natural for this 4-year old's imagination to morph this handle into a choo-choo train steam whistle. Along with the child's sound effects came Engineer Bill who supervised a construction facility which moved the trains into the roundhouse when completed. There Roundhouse Bob notified Marshall when a train was released down the tracks that ran through his body to deliver the trains into the white porcelain fish bowl. As the years passed, the child's curiosity and pride grew to such an extent that he would study the trains, smell and even touch them before pulling on the "steam whistle" handle, sending this trains on the Orient Express to China.

Over the years Engineer Bill, Roundhouse Bob and Marshall became quite a team. Upon leaving the family menu and going to college, it became evident that the team was very adept at knowing which raw materials built the best trains. Engineer Bill would pipe up by the 2nd bite if some ill-advised ingredients were being delivered to the assembly line, and Marshall learned to heed his advice.

To this very day, I am still totally into the 'train' game. As a child having never shared it meant getting to keep it. I lay a great part of my phenomenal health to having never shared my secret trains with anyone until I was comfortable enough in my own skin to come out of the closet to the congregation of my church in the mid-'90s. My wife at the time was miffed I didn't warn her to stay home. I felt the title on the sign in the front and in the announcements of "Life is good shit” should have been sufficient.

The moral of the story and the reason to delve into such a shitty subject is how powerful imagery and play can be in manifesting that which we desire. Have fun, play on until that day the Universe confirms that you are being listened to.