Dark Night of my Soul

Mar. 5, 2016

I'm going for it.  I'm going to see if I can rant myself to death.  Being evil and undeserving ALL of my whole entire life of wanting more money than I need (obviously decided by someone other than myself) as I keep coming round and round and round and round and round and round over and over and over and over and over to this same thing, ad nauseum, ad infinitum, ad obscurity, ad needlessly -- so they say -- I have a gullet full, not that I haven't arrived at that point before, and I want to spew and spew and spew and spew and then; because I am a foolish idiot the size of Alaska and I have never made a single effort in my whole, entire life to learn to do differently, to be different; and I never pray, (only at the very minimum, once a day, as I was taught; on my knees - as I committed to - in my twenties, after finding I was missing days with two babies in diapers and the ability to scootch out of sight faster than I could say, “Jack Robinson” ), and I never meditate (other than to quiet my demanding mind so I can go to sleep) and the occasional other time or two and I never seek for knowledge, inspiration, motivation, direction, encouragement, help or answers and I have never trained with so-called Masters and I have never acknowledged anyone on this earth or out of it (don't you DARE to believe that for one skinny moment) might have anything to offer to me to help me out of this conundrum wherein any action that I take, any effort that I make, any path I try, any work I pursue could turn up successful enough for me that I might live my life without the stress, the strain, the fear, the awkwardness, the shame, the horror, the misfortune, the ugliness, the consequences of always and forever, unendingly being without more money than I need, more money than I can waste or squander (as you may see it), more money than I want, more money than I hope for, more money than I ask God for, more money than I envision, more money than I speak, more money than I write in bold black words that I want, I want, I want, I want, I want, I want, I want.  And like the commercial says so stridently, "it's my money and I want it now.  It's my money and I want it now."  I hear me, who cannot hear me?  "It's my money and I want it now."

EVER feel like that?  EVER felt like that in your whole entire life?

If you're still reading, but don't feel you're relating to the words or mood of the rant, perhaps you're aware that someone around you or someone you know is very closely aligned with what you've just read and would very much like to move on, move forward with their lives, and that you might be able to help just a little -- if you could understand better.

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