birthday almost

There’s a strain of megalomania that threads back to a submissive impulse. We spin out absurd scenarios of allure and attainment not to actually have them (they are often unsustainable in character, and the times we’ve modeled fractions of the fantasies in our lives, they have been unfulfilling), but in order to surrender to a Force of our own design – a Force independent of our own ethical responsibility, of any responsibility – magic; a machine. And this megalomaniac rash, this rage for submission, colors our interactions through the day, as we resent those who fail to broadcast intention to submit to the same machine – who do not share our fantasy, who are not in love with the laws of our magic.

 

The only way to expand ones capacities beyond self-generated ideas is to submit. The only way to expand personally is to surrender to a personal, moral power. The personal, moral power that is beyond the human to the extent that it can draw the human forward into evolution, is spiritual.

 

Birth is surrender to this human way of breathing, a life of relationship with invisible spirit. It’s a birthday.

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