Upon first learning of spiritual principles, I wanted to create egoic walls and separations, to say “this is spiritual and that is not, avoid this/embrace that,” but now I see the error of my ways.  Knowing that I’m an integral part of a vast web of consciousness, I feel obliged to explore, to see transcendence in everything.  

I feel obliged to not stand with those prude hermits that became twisted into religious obsolescence, but to plunge into wild, deep waters, and to not just speak of faith, but live it.

Logically, trying to wrestle off death is a monumental waste.  It naturally follows that if we all die, then we should learn to laugh at the absurdity of it, to flout social convention and crack the blackest jokes.  

Not out of some twisted defiance, but out of honest recognition that we should enjoy the ride.

Personally, I believe the key to writing is being as brutally honest with myself as possible, and channeling that into my story.  While writing may be a world of make-believe and fantasticality, it’s only palatable if it’s flavored with truth.

I am all for the Gucci’d-out spirituality of “power” foods/objects/clothes/shrines…but only as an intermediary.  These tools are useful if they propel us toward seeing interconnectivity.  But as soon as these things are considered unchangingly indispensable, they’ve become handicaps.

Should we ever get hung up on gadgets and tools, then we’ve traded novelty for substance.

If tapping the numinous/mystical/magical was a matter of “proper” environment/money/physicality, that would be a sad joke indeed, for we are limited in all of those things.  No, I believe at a deeper level, we CHOSE these limitations to see how the infinite weaves itself into each and every quanta, no matter how “limited” or “low vibe” or “distasteful” they may seem.  I have to believe that no matter how mad or atrocious it gets, there is some deeper good at work, everywhere, all the time.

What is “natural?”  Considering that our cheap plastics come from the same star-stuff as flesh and plants, “natural” is a subjective word.  

IMHO, it is wiser to focus on what is fitting.  The evolved responder adopts new methods and data with clarified ease.  Changing circumstances do not diminish his/her effectiveness.

I believe the static trappings of a noun, of relegating the All-encompassing into some judgmental, unmoving intelligence, is a poor fit.  To me, there is a ring of truth when existence is described as a verb, an ever-flowing river of BECOMING, of ITERATING.  

Power is a hollow, fiat currency; real worth lies in that rushing ocean of awareness that we have all glimpsed in our truest, most honest moments.

These jarring juxtapositions of reality—sainthood/atrocity, filthiness/beauty, disorder/structure—exist not so we can turn to one side or the other, but to look at their magical connecting joint, see how both can exist at once, and be flooded with beatific sublimation.

The negativity of society would have us be moths—flapping from lamp to lamp, dousing each light with our gray, mechanical wings.  But that’s not the natural design:  Look up in the sky—we are meant to be stars; gathering around each other, forming galaxies that burn all the brighter for our unity, while still glowing with our own inner light.  And eventually, if a certain theory of physics pans out and we become massive enough, we’ll collapse into ourselves and become portals into the infinite unknown.