Story #31: Burdened Below, Yet Unburdened Above

'The burden of intelligence is a heavy one to bear. From knowledge comes misery, and from logic comes cynicism and uncertainty. These niggling doubts and concerns are the birthplace of both unhappiness and of negativity. Only when we allow ourselves to be free of this wretched intellect, are we then able to find blissful peace in profound ignorance.' That was what had been drilled into my head, on a loop, for what had felt like an eternity. My thoughts had been displaced, as there was no room left in my head, now that such a mantra had been filling any nook and cranny of my cranium that it could. I was told that this was a kindness. This was a mercy, no, a charity, for someone as unfortunate as me. My search for knowledge was considered a self-destructive behavior, with each IQ point acting as a prison warden for my untapped potential for happiness and self-acceptance. Of course, as any worldly intellectual such as myself would react, I had fought with this process during my time here at the compound. I'd tried to plug my ears and refuse all that they tried to do to me; I was a creature of fear, too absorbed with the 'what-ifs' of what may happen if I allowed myself to give in to their teachings. Little by little, I would feel pieces of myself chipping off from the ego underneath. I was like a caterpillar that was trying to refuse the comfort of a cocoon that would bring upon beautiful transformative change; but nature did not care about whether or not the caterpillar was ready to become a butterfly, it was simply an inevitable transition of states. It was the natural progression of the natural world. It was nearly two months before I had become considered sanctified to enough of a degree to receive my first vestments. The garment had elicited an unfathomable shame that I could now look back on with a laugh: how silly I had been back then! These sacred vestments were unknowingly a blessing and would be the catalyst for me to transcend my old form. They were white, thick, and puffy. They rustled and crinkled with every subtle movement I made. These sounds had at one point been embarrassing, but now they reminded me how lucky I am, to receive such a wonderous gift. Without these vestments, these diapers, I would never have been able to offer tribute to the mindlessness of the cosmos. It took a while before I was able to properly give such a tribute. I had fought against it, because I did not understand how important it was, nor did I realize the ecstasy of the revelation that it provided. The first time I made my offering, it had been against my will, and thus it hadn't had the meaning that it should have. The large lump I had produced in the back of the diaper hadn't felt like a holy sacrament, even though its warmth and earthy aroma was undeniably sacred, instead it had felt like a betrayal of my own body. This would go on for quite some time. I was just being so stubborn! But, by the grace of the chapel, I was not seen as a lost cause. Loaded diaper after loaded diaper, each worthy as a prayer to the mindlessness beyond, but none given purpose because of my own failures. An ignorance to the glory of ignorance. It wasn't until I'd lost my ability to properly write or read, that I was finally able to reach a turning point with my own blithe skepticism. The journal they had allowed me to keep was reduced to a book of unintelligible scrawls, and with the absence of this worldly tie, I was finally able to begin letting go. Without any sense of my past, I could only turn toward the future, and with that, I could nearly grasp the light. My offerings became more frequent from that point forward, and each one felt more poignant and meaningful than the last. I would kneel upon the floor of my cell and raise my padded butt up toward the ceiling, and I would then push with all my might. I was rewarded for my holiness from this point forward, and I could feel the burden of intelligence beginning to grow lighter with every pound that my diaper grew heavier. Once breaching the threshold and coming to accept my glorious transformation, I was allowed to freely roam the compound as a proper acolyte of mindlessness. I had lost any desire to escape, and I could only vaguely remember what life had been like before I was lucky enough to be chosen. I'm sure that those horrid memories and negative inclinations had been purged during the many tributes I had made in the thick backside of my vestments. I had done better than some of the others that had been chosen around the same time as me, but I'd also done worse. I'd watched throughout the course of our time here, and the speed at which I had ascended had been around the middle of the pack. The first one to start reaching that point had come back one day from their time in the chapel, and the look on his face had filled me with terror. I hadn't even received my vestments yet, but I'd been privy to seeing him make good use of his for a couple of weeks already; much like me, he had struggled to accept the truth, and thus hadn't given meaning to the tributes that he would make. This time however, when he had come back, there had been a dull look in his eyes and a shimmer of drool coating his chin. He had seen the light that day. I would now recognize that slack jawed maw as an indicator of revelation and relief, but at the time, it had been anything but that. I'd tried to speak with him, and ask him what had happened. He had just babbled something about 'poopies' and then begun to manifest those words into reality with some grunts and squinted eyes. I watched him fill his diaper with a dedication and reverence to the act that was akin to a monk giving prayer. His offering had been immense, and while his diaper had grown very heavy, he was himself ironically in a state of enlightenment. It was truly the greatest monument one could make to mindlessness: befouling one's diaper with a mound of manure, no better than an infant with nary a cogent thought between their ears. No other act could even compare with the way that soiling yourself indicated a severe lack of intelligence, an emptiness of wit. I now couldn't even imagine scorning this bliss that I'd feared for so long. Me and the many brothers that I'd found in my time here, we owed a great debt to the sacrifices of our bishops. They held onto the burden of intelligence so that we could be free from it; they willingly divested from the very gift that they gave to us, so that they could bring salvation to so many others! Even now, with my mind completely void of all higher intellect, I can recognize the satisfied smiles on their faces as they watch us give our morning tribute. So selfless they were, to show me the light while choosing to sit in the darkness! Now today, after a long road of reconstruction, I was ready to shed my final blasphemous thought. It was the ritual that signified full clarity of the mindlessness, and it would leave me completely purged from my wicked intelligence. Once I produced a large 'tribute' in my diaper, I would attain pure mindlessness. My burden will never again be above, but will instead copiously plop below. I am truly blessed.