Well. I do not usually get moved to anything on Substack but aggravation.

Deeply appreciated.

I had a major spiritual awakening myself in '87 (at 33 years of age) that changed everything in and around me. Just what the Dr. ordered, so to speak, but I didn't get the degree of interdimensional topsy-turvicide that you got...thank the Monad!

Now my vehicle is 71 years of age. I am alone, hiking the Vertical Trail. My health is primo, and I find myself homesteadily situated on 5 rural acres in S. Louisiana, immersed in gratitude & greenery. I am stymied on a house-building project indefinitely (by the Vague Plague, aka Covid19, which sprang out of China as I was teaching English there in 2019.) I was prospering, saving money, and working out my Asia-karma when Dr. FauxChi's pet project closed down the language schools there (among other things)...and I returned to my intermittent home. I threw up a one room structure on a manic weekend and here I sit...looking over at the house I managed to get dried-in over the years...but I don't know if it will ever get finished. I am not losing sleep about it. I have a few chooks, some raised bed gardens (the soil is quite anemic in these Gulf lowlands), amenable neighbors...a trusty, rusty bike...and I am in some stage of inner transformation.

I know because these days just about anything can make me weep. But it is not a sorrowful state at all....just my heart breaking open at the sound of a catbird on a maple limb outside my window. Or a familiar lizard on the AC window unit peering in to say hi. A squirrel dashing madly through a copse of pine trees on my way to feed my feathered cluckstresses, Flo & Henrietta.

Abundance--the Sacred Dance of Abun-- has nothing to do with possessions, as I'm sure you know. Nothing external about it, this I understand now, in the Winter of my life. Whatever comes, let it come. Bank failures? I have little interest.

Sorry!

Paucity of oil?

Perfect time for the much-duscussed free energy devices to manifest.

I don't even own a car.

As the Great Sage Sumbuddy once adaged:

WHEN THE PANTRY CONTAINS ONLY DIMMING MEMORIES OF FOODSTUFFS,

THAT IS THE PERFECT TIME FOR FASTING