MONEY IS NOT MY GOD:
Happiness, bitterness, and a healthy relationship with money.
The cult of wealth worship in this country is emotional prostitution on a nationwide scale, and denial that we are a capitalist country, and the idea that you can survive here with little or no money is a thing taught to the poor to keep them poor.
With little or no balance in the equation a lot of people fall into either the greed or poverty mindset, and sometimes both, as I watch generation after generation fall into a closeted gold digger mindset. Actually looking up to others who have more money than them, as though they were part of a multi-level ponzi scheme pyramid.
There are many levels of relationships with money, poverty, modesty, success, wealth and disaster among many others. It just seems like people are caught in a dream state or nightmare depending on which one of these states they happen to be in. Its compelling, and sometimes scary.
Either way, if you worship wealth, don’t be offended when it betrays you. It was designed to do just that.
Money was only meant to be a tool, not a god. Know the difference.
Reality? Speak for yourself. I create mine. How about you? what do you like to create? And who dictates it?
My world, is a dimly lit, red and black, velvet-couches-and-pillows theater of reality, fantasy and illusion, being projected by my psyche, onto the screen of perceptions, with my inner pornographers, art directors, producers, and authors, choosing select clips from pleasures, pains and adventures past, present and future. Jasmine Incense lightly wafts through the air, and tears of emotional release are the drink of choice. Occasionally the lights go on for an intermission, and I take notice of when and where I actually am. Occasionally, I invite a lady to attend these affairs, the casting calls and gala event premieres of my life.
My life is an extended, darkly-beautiful/college/art film, on an endless loop, with a minor keyed ambient musical score and special effects provided by fate, sometimes, in the form of you. It is a thing of beauty, love, challenge, adversity, and emotional dragon slaying. I am a human prison break of the emotions.
I am the human appetite come to life.
©Piero Amadeo Infante, 2015.
(Excerpt from my dating profile)
We are at an evolutionary curve that requires, and also offers us the chance, for the dismantling of sanitized and lionized female and male stereotypes that no longer fit the human spirit, or function. They trap us into actions that neither serve our spirits, or our communities, and poison us against ourselves and others.
For example: The faultless hero/interfering rescuer/absolute warrior (Often used by soldiers, cops, fighters, politicians, dads, bullies, cruel misogynists and drama addicts to justify less than noble behavior)
And the lolita/princess/waif/model/lost little girl/untouched virgin/suffering martyr, (Often used by political matriarchs, suffering wives, family martyrs, drama addicts, and vengeful misandrists to justify less than noble behavior)
These are simple roles found and written in the controlling religions of Judeo-Christian western society, and enforced on the minds of children from a very early age. This is the poison conditioning of the human species.
They reflect a false sense that “virtue” means “chastity” and “purity” and that “heroism” endows one with “virtue” and absolves one from responsibility for violent or unethical actions, and that identifying with a predetermined role, gives you a pass on all sorts of toxic, and destructive behavior.
This is a very dehumanizing idea to me, as it takes away from us, the very thing that makes us human. Our changing state. Our inner turmoil, our conflicted nature, and most of all, our dark side. (Yes. you. You have one)
To admit you are human, and that like all humans you possess a shadow, and that as a human you are sometimes prone towards violence, (either creating, condoning, or ignoring), angers, fears, irrational actions, and being wrathful, that, is a much more honest place to begin work on the human condition.
Wrapping dangerous behaviors up in heroic or helpless archetypal roles, including gender roles is anti-evolutionary, and anti-human, but most of all, philosophically dishonest on an evolutionary scale.
There is no honest work, without an honest appraisal, and an honest assessment of what needs to be worked on.
Who are you really? Do you even know?
©Piero Amadeo Infante, 2015
Spiritual warfare 101: You are living oral tradition.
Why you should remember what people say to you:
It is a regular practice for me now, to go back over all the years, and remember things that people said, and use their wisdom as a library of advice, advice that in many cases I was not ready to understand back then.
Some of it sounded critical, (some of it was) some just passing commentary, some funny, and some serious.
I didn’t always get it. But now, it is all highly valuable and functional survival and success information I perpetually use.
The passing of years has not decreased, but increased its value, as I now have expert advice on nearly every subject imaginable, and use it on a daily basis.
Spiritual warfare 101: Bulletproof attitude adjustment for the slings and arrows of outrageous Fortune
You and I not beholden to rises and falls in money, popularity, relevancy, peer pressure, or evaluation in our businesses, lives, romances, looks, or projects.
Simply decide what you want and then unflinchingly, unapologetically, and relentlessly, enforce your soul and your will upon the world’s psyche.
Do anything less, and you will receive everything less.
“When they ask, why we, the faithful, keep our swords so close,
Say: “Those of us who pray to angels also clash with ghosts”
©Piero Amadeo Infante, 2015.
Print by Master Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, 1864,
“The Death action of Musashi Gorô Sadayo”
It’s been about two years since I walked away from someone I care about greatly. I had known her for decades, and always wondered about her, and her place in my life. At the time of my departure, I sensed she took everything in my life, my shadows, and my personal battles really personally herself, and she also misinterpreted a lot of things about me and my actions. It just wasn’t the right time.
I love her a lot, and I was in love with her then, and I felt like leaving her was the safest and most honorable thing to do, and I’d do it again. If you came to know that you, just being you, would hurt someone, would you stay?
She also had an enormous amount of things going on in her life, that directly related to how she felt about me, and I think who we were, was just beginning to hurt one another. But the time with her was more than magical. Getting my heart free was the strongest thing I have ever done. Ironically, her name in Farsi, is the same name of the prison town in Iran, and she definitely had the power to make me want to surrender my heart, but neither of us were ready.
It hurt, it left a scar, a lingering pain, an empty feeling, strangely, it was the right thing to do.
I woke up this morning, missing her terribly, and crying into my tea, an feeling like someone had excavated my heart from my chest, and I just let it wash over me, and went for a walk and took a nap. I am like that, commanding my emotions for fear of getting hurt or doing damage, sealing them in stone, and setting sail in the opposite direction. Mutiny of the heart, you could call it.
I am astounded at how much discipline and self control it took to walk away, and how deep I buried it. I am burning a candle and hoping that she is happy today with someone who loves her, and cares for her.
I am glad that there is still the grace between us, un-destroyed, intact, and a lesson to us both.
Sometimes I can’t sleep
Sometimes imbalance plagues me, and not just the visible, easily accessible often presented, cookie cutter heroic causes everyone must have at least one of to be considered a traveler, nor the ponderous mental excesses, but the uglier and more exquisite and more grievous, and intense, razor-close things.
My sheets and covers become a sea, an ocean of loss, and a great squall of wandering, windswept navigation on the edge of a tiny world I navigate from my bed. They are my sail, and my quarters. The current will take me all places at once, and no place several different times. There are fires burning far away. This is my personal warfare with a sense of position I have never really had.
I see it in the sky and on the horizon. I see them all.
The things we rob of ourselves, the greatness we deny, the deepness we avoid, the destiny we collectively ignore. The discomfort with the dirt, and fire, and mud, and heat, and come, and sweat and lust of the lower world that creates all this, the inherent violence of nature, the incessant desire to paint it over with false nobility and beauty, the blood, and mess, and storm that are the rise and fall of us, the conflicted natures, and subverted personalities, and the lies.
All the lies we are told to hold dear, the ones we create, the ones we are taught and the ones, we run to out of a fear of admitting that this, is all dark beautiful uncontrollable chaos, and none of us will be here long, and how I see myself as a human corridor spanning generations with multiple shadows of myself throughout time, one after the other like a long row of human dominoes, waiting to happen in both directions past and future, and how reality and time stretch me across the universe like a tight string on a fine instrument and that, is why I resonate, and why I make this sound, and why I feel so much. I pull my pillow like a sail, and try to rest my head on the unsettled water of my emotions, and all of this while feeling strangely content about the journey, and for an outcome I don’t even know about yet.
One thing is for certain. It will be an outcome. I’m ready.
Sometimes I can’t sleep.
©Piero Amadeo Infante, 2014.