Let’s Get Physical, Living in the Material World, etc….

Life is just full of cliches, isn’t it? Sometimes it seems like we’re just replaying silly love songs as the soundtrack to our lives, all about making it getting it spending it f*cking it and then doing it all over again. This is the world of stuff, possessions and possession; to get spiritual is counter-indicated here at the speed of sound: percussion and repercussions. That’s more fitting for the speed of light: the real world, light electricity and spirit flowing in unison where the destination is indeterminate and not even consequential, where the flow itself is paramount…

When I started my first business—in world crafts—some thirty-five years ago the thing that worried me most was how to get out—before I was really even in, mind you, as though the inventory and stock in trade would subvert my true interest—creative human interaction across borders and across languages and across history and across time straight into living rooms and dressing rooms and walls and floors and showcases as the ‘beautiful’ part of the great trilogy of truth, beauty and goodness.

And I accomplished that handsomely, getting out that is, almost sorta’ kinda’ maybe, I not being one to draw lines or build fences, much less burn them, so I still do that bizniz when the moon’s right and the wind blows south and the phone rings with a desire for fulfillment, still begging the question as to whether I was ever truly successful, in concrete terms of nickels and dimes, but success has a sliding scale, too (that term always makes me think of old-fashioned slide-rules; I’ll show you my age if you’ll show me yours).

So I spent ten years getting into that bizniz and now another twenty still getting out, the part I did best, moving merchandise—beauty, a concept—without ever really possessing it, a thing of beauty itself watching inventory dwindle while still creating ‘movement’, movimiento, the Spanish term that I like so much to describe this (trans)action, middlemen only disparaged by those who can do without them, but really only a bad thing if greed rules and no value is added, at which point capitalism is nothing more than a pyramid scheme, all politics aside, where free enterprise is sacred and its scary cousin C is not…

So if I were ready to die right now, then my timing would have been perfect, basic intuition; the prostate cancer would be kicking in by now, and my possessions done to almost nothing, just a little pile of appurtenances that pertain to almost nothing, likewise, a few scraps on paper that prove how bad my writing used to be, or a few letters ‘returned to sender’ back in the day before Internet would find you regardless, my life for the last ten years alternating between monkish and bookish, if not death in the immediate future then ready to get all monastic plastic elastic and ready for whatever comes, bleacher seats for the Apocalypse, and all that rap, jazz too old-fashioned and now derivative…

But this is not our fate, to sit idly by while circumstances undo us, just not Buddhist enough I, or not that old, to make the adjustments in my mind to things that would have been better adjusted in fact, i.e. a world imperfect, Christian love probably not enough, either, no, it will take some Islamic rigor and foundations (not fundamentalism) to make things right with this world, unbending discipline to a prophecy if not a Prophet, a profit motive if not an outright profit, an equation with a future perfect tense not conditional, and balance sheet sustainable…

No one will be impressed by your non-possession, my friends, by the fact that you lived your life in perfect harmony with Nature, clinging to Mother for health and sustenance. Remember the Prodigal Son? Mais oui. No one remembers the other brother who followed the rules goodly and godly, singularly lacking in drama. In this world of czars and Caesars, physics and physicality, we need to create something solid to be understood and left standing, even if the spiritual world is theoretically more ‘real.’

This is our fate, finding highest common denominators in the slow cool world, rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, and remembering the denarius in our denaro, dinar and dinero. To remember our origins in spirit and the womb is the best we can do in this world, preparing for the afterlife and the otherworld, while slumming it in this one.

I had dreams of the womb for the first five years of my life, dreams which I remember vividly to this day—light penetrating darkness and vast unreachable distances. I can’t wait to get back, to the womb, to spirit, to the speed of light, now as I prepare to get all solid physical economically invested in this world of multiple erections, one more time, this one for good, just so that I can one day renounce it all, consciously and deliberately…

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