Originalis

The blastopore is the first rift, the first great hole in the developing fetus of all beasts. It is the first differentiation, the first step towards complexity. In our case, the blastopore develops into the anus, distinguishing us from protostomes, mostly aliens like spiders, nematodes, squid and molluscs. Our mouth develops in relation to our anus. Thus, it is always one step behind. The anus is the blastopore, it is the source, the life-spring. It is the first cleavage, the first assault on the geometric perfection of the archenteron. The mouth is a mere afterthought, a necessary byproduct. Through the anus we can peer into the great center of all things. We can witness the ministry of genesis.

Why do we sit on our anus? I have witnessed some 30 springs, yet have never dared to approach this deceptively simple question. Why did our senses develop around the mouth? Our brains, ears, eyes, and nose all develop around this stupid copy-cat mouth. They are all tainted by it. Only the anus and it's protective butt cheeks are pure. The anus so simple, surrounded only by fatty tissue. The mouth surrounds itself with the most sophisticated architecture, and to what end? I am certainly not taken in by this ruse! All smoke and mirrors these elaborate and useless things. What good are the talents of smelling, hearing, and seeing but in the service of the great hole?

So then I must consider, what does it mean to smell flatulence? To witness the visual splendor of a solid, well formed shit? To take in the full anal symphony of a precious fart held captive for over 6 hours? These actions are all just the anus enjoying itself, nothing more. We are all just bundles of complexity layered atop the anus, all in service of the anus. When we enjoy the spice of our farts, we are really just one giant anus reveling in this truth. When we snap photos of those shits that are all to perfect, we are just watching ourselves smiling (our primeval selves, our anuses).

I write these words as a celebration of these truths. My mouth performs this duty in eternal subordination to its anal progenitor. I keep a record of these things not to shock, disgust or entertain, but to witness clearly and unabashedly the heart of all things. We are most ashamed of our anus because it likes it that way. It yearns not for the spotlight, it is far too wise. But I am tired of this shame, and I seek to disturb the anus from its holy seat for no other reason than to better know Him. I am not afraid. I know not what I may discover, but I am certain that few have taken this road before. Anus, I kneel before you as I kneel before my creator and my self. You are all things, and I am you. Carry on.