Polish the Apple

APPLES, ART, BUSINESS, BLISS

Apples in Paris

I got left behind a long time ago. Being left behind is nothing new to me. I know the story. I get left behind and I have no idea how to catch up. And, it doesn’t matter how hard I try to catch up, I can’t do it. I’m on my own in this old world, spirituality and all. It is one thing to be spiritual, to have spiritual sense; but, it’s another thing to take that spirituality and make a profound connection to the world with it. How many people make a truly profound connection to the world anyway? It isn’t easy to do, and even those who do it don’t always know exactly what it was they did. It isn’t easy to make a profound connection to the world. I used to think that it was simply a matter of expressing Spirit, immersion in Spirit and brotherly love. Spirituality and love are good things, compelling things, but not necessarily aggressive, attention-getting things. They don’t make a big stir. They don’t create a big ruckus. Don’t go into spirituality because you want to change the world. What if the world doesn’t want to change? What if the world resists the kind of change that you have in mind for it? Did you ever think of that?

Does the world’s indifference or rejection of spirituality make Spirit of none effect? Is Spirit’s value to me diminished by the world’s rejection of it? No! How could that be? The world doesn’t set my standard. I don’t have a great life to begin with, but it would be an awful mess if I were governed by the world. I wanted to be more than I am—most people do. Most people want more for their lives than they get. Whose fault is that? Is it even a question of fault? Isn’t it just the way things are? Reality. The nature of things. The way of the world. I might be blessed to find a kernel of contentment in this world, but who cares and why should they? I didn’t seek and find contentment to impress anyone. I did it to save myself. I did it to find a place and space to be in. 

Thank God for writing. What would I do without it? Who would I talk to? Writing is like my best friend. It’s better than sex, and I like sex a lot. I have always tried to protect writing from the world, which is probably why I never succeeded at it. I didn’t sell my soul. I didn’t sell writing to the world, and I have reaped the stark consequences of my parsimony. Life in the world is all about selling something or other. Commerce. Buying and selling. Supply and demand. Success is about reading and responding to markets correctly. Trends. Movements of thought and desire.

Contrary to pop psychology, it isn’t about your bliss. Two tears in a bucket, mother-fuck it. Nobody gives a rat’s ass about your bliss. Which is not to say that your bliss is a bad thing, but just because it’s yours, doesn’t mean other people want to hear about it. Success is all about tapping into the monster and giving it what it wants, regardless of your bliss. You can take your bliss and go beat off with it on the toilet seat, but please don’t be sharing it with me! Give me something that I want. Show me what I want and give it to me. Thank you, baby. You mean I’ve got to pay for it? Oh, OK. Give it to me, baby. That’s what it’s all about.

Photograph:  Elena Dijour/Shutterstock.com