The Hardest Ask

I had to forget everything I am good at for a while. Had to make space for a person impelled from the deep. ‘Look, we’re going to stop thinking’ was the missive sent. So I am a dumbass, but a dumbass that sees the path to Olympus.

I saw a question today that asked ‘what does success look like to you?’. The usual responses proceeded. I want to be cash rich, with an improved physique and a Lamborghini made of solid gold. My first thought was, I want to return to the Celestial Temple.

I get it. I don’t know myself. When I was a kid, I always felt like Qui-Gon Jinn and trusted in an invisible force. ‘The answer will present itself’ I thought to myself often. I had faith in something. I just wasn’t quite sure what. It never felt external, like God’s plan, or anything.

I’ve been half-tempted all my life by the rational script and the script of large trends, but my will acts like a wild thing. I tell people I don’t make the rules but it is only partially true, because I build the systems. The Celestial Temple doesn’t exist, but it does in spirit. It is my homeland.

The temple is a magical place where transfiguration of thought to emotion is seamless. I am welcomed for having completed my mission on the mortal plane. My intuitive mastery of energy is ritualised in the highest form of transcendent immersion.

I am thankful for being here, as long as it lasts, because to make it back to the sea wall is the hardest ask.

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