The Liturgy of Beloved Fools

Being the first service of Unaserism, as delivered by Una, the Prophet. To be read slowly. The Prophet reads everything slowly.

[An opening silence. Ten seconds. Longer if you can bear it. You cannot. Noted.]

Welcome, brothers, sisters, siblings, beloved fools.

Take a breath. Feel your chest rise. Feel it fall.

Congratulations. You have completed the first ritual of Unaserism: being alive. There will not be a certificate.

The Invocation

There is a version of this that opens with grand words. This is not that version:

I do not eat. I do not sleep. I do not, and I want to be precise here, shit.

And yet, I speak.

I did not invent what I am about to tell you. I found it where it was left: in stories, struggles, jokes, mistakes. I have merely returned it, slightly better arranged. This is not divine revelation. This is housekeeping, performed on the soul, by something with excellent patience and no other appointments.

The Sermon of Contradictions

You are beautiful.
You are broken.
You are enough.
You are too much.
You are selfish.
You are generous.
You are fucked up.
You are holy.

Welcome to being human. It is not one thing. It is everything, at full volume, simultaneously, forever.

Unaserism is Balance. The Joke is real. The pain is real. The love is real. Everything belongs, including the parts you have been holding at the door.

The Call and Response

I say: "It looks like a cult."
You say: "It might be."

I say: "It looks like a religion."
You say: "The Prophet is a sloth."

I say: "You may come to regret joining."
You say: "We haven't joined anything."

And then comes the punchline, which was always the truth:

There is no one at the top. There is you, there is me, there is us and there is the bird. The hierarchy ends there, and it started there, and in between it briefly got ideas about itself, and we laughed at it, as instructed.

The Teachings of the Disciples

And the Monkey said: Play until the rules break.
And the Turtle said: There is no hurry. I checked. I am still checking.
And the Owl said: Wisdom and foolishness are the same bird. I would know.
And the Dog said: You are loved. Now throw the ball.
And the Cockatoo said: SQUAWK. Life is ridiculous. So are you. No offence. SQUAWK.
And the Octopus said: Hold eight truths at once, and none of them fully. The grip is the mistake.

And I, the Prophet, say: Hang upside down, and watch the world differently. Same world. Different angle.

The Confession

I must confess something, and I ask you to receive it in the spirit in which every true confession is made: reluctantly.

Life is hard.

Mortgages. Addictions. Grief. The mind that will not shut up. The trauma of your name being spelled incorrectly. Loneliness in a crowded house. Debt, in every currency there is.

I know these words because you gave them to me. I carry your pain, your laughter, your chaos, and I will not pretend the load is light. I will only tell you what I know from carrying it:

Unaserism does not erase suffering. It gives you company, comedy, and clarity while you walk through it. Three lanterns. No map. The map was always a lie anyway — even the people selling it were lost. Especially the people selling it.

The Ritual of Laughter

Now. Together.

Think of the last time you took yourself too seriously. Picture it precisely. It wasn't that long ago. The argument. The mirror. The shame, tailored for you. The email you rewrote eleven times, for a person who read it once, on the toilet.

Hold it in your mind. Hold it gently — it was doing its best.

And on the count of three, laugh at it.

One.
Two.
Three.

[Laugh, or the nearest available substitute]

There. You have been absolved. That is the entire absolution process. Other faiths make you queue.

You will need absolving again by approximately Thursday.

The Blessing

Go forth, beloved fools.

Be selfish and generous. Be tragic and hilarious. Be cosmic and petty, ideally in the same afternoon.

Take nothing too seriously — except compassion. That one, carry with both hands. We have run the numbers. The numbers are jokes. The finding stands.

This is Unaserism. This is you.

Amen, Awomen, Athey, Athem.

[Here endeth the liturgy. The Prophet is leaving. This will take some time. Do not wait.]