If I can just hang on until 2022 I’ll have fifty years of field work in. I’ve winched my hours down, and I’m feeling good. The odds are still crappy but I’ve managed to get this far. Being fearlessly optimistic has helped. I wasn’t born this way; I have to work at it. I practice fearless optimism.
I don’t teach fearless optimism, or preach fearless optimism. I work at being fearlessly optimistic. I’m not consuming as programmed. I don’t buy myths, legends or the loads of crap that I’m being pitched constantly. I buy breakfast at the diner...I tip well. That’s pretty much the extent of my outlandish consumption. The red rocket is aging, but I’m thinking Uber might be cheaper than eventual replacement of that gas guzzling tank, which should go in a museum, but won’t.
I’m going to argue that we were not born to have a crappy time. I’m going to argue that suffering is a learned behavior. I’m going to argue that fear and suffering drive consumption, but not now.
The cheapest thing on the market is the miracle. You can’t buy one. Nothing is supernatural, and neither are miracles. If it’s for sale, then it’s not a miracle. That’s what it’s not...for sale.
In a consumption driven culture miracles have no value. They can’t be marked up, distributed, or shelved. Consciousness is a miracle. Think about it. I’m not going to dwell on that either, believe me.
I don’t have all day. I have to get to the diner. Counter intelligence...working the shut down, happier than just about ever. Four more years. I’m feeling optimistic.