So what is it about our progress as a civilization which is so inherently frustrating and dis-satisfying? Oh what I wouldn’t give for a short answer to that question.

The two major disses on my list this morning are taxes and spam. In particular, [and I know that it is taboo to mention publicly one’s own financials, especially when the words following are oil and government. This post in fact, should attract any number of spam comments, like a slick patch of tar in the water snags birds] the spam I get for this site, which is mostly attracted to the Hermes Tresmegistos et all posting.
I’ve filtered 50 or 60 garbled postings by now, comments filled with junk words from bogus addresses, or vaguely creepy simple sentences that could apply anywhere. The irony of these responses to a posting concerning universal truth is not lost upon me, and the bitter taste lingers on the tongue.

Speaking of bitter tastes lingering:
So I received a legacy gift a number of years back, of stock in the Royal Dutch Petroleum Company. Oil stock – welcome to the land of paradox. It weighed heavy, this chunk of potential change – I didn’t want it. So I sold it a few years back, and used the money to support myself whilst starting a healing practice. Sounds like a fine transmutation, doesn’t it? Only my partner’s cancer returned shortly thereafter, and my momentum for building a business never picked up the steam it needed, and by the time it was time to file taxes the next year, I was grieving his passing and totally spaced out the stock dollars on my tax return. How’s that for a “whoops”?

Totally spaced it. So the letter from the IRS was a bit of a shock. A pricey bill, for oil, again.
The gift that just keeps giving. I’m a grumblin alright. But I’m paying it. I’m paying for it.

I am my own American. I believe there is room for me here, in this landscape. Reconciling myself to reality has been a long practice, and I’m feeling a little bit finished with the practice. I don’t want to reconcile my internal experience with this muck. I value something in myself which I might call my humanity, if humanity didn’t continue to show all the signs of trauma. So I’ll call it essence of life. I value that, most high.

Published by


Cascadian wordsmith and reluctant scorpio, with a fondness for honey, trees, and ducks, as well as birds on the wing and orange kitties.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *