Like a wine soaked ode to that rarefied state of contentment, I'm getting on my highhorse: at what point to value the wealth of realization more than the material? I don't claim, like to some self-righteous nouveu-spirtual fuck, that I've come to believe that a young lad from North California can really get my fingers around the numinous nature of our collective predicament. But I think calling out that 900-pound gorilla of lost spiritual curiosity is a start. What happened to the quest? I'm not a scripturalist, atheist, pandering agnostic, or given to orthodoxy of any kind, but do I have to be? Religions come and go, and the death-rattle of this archaic nonsense would be a boon growth in our very metaphysics. This isn't a Soviet prediction of replacement ideology, but when the thinking man isn't afraid of his faith, then true faith shines through.
Traditions have allowed this at points, but we're caught between the fanaticism of the Right and Left. Agnosticism is pleading the fifth. Evangelism is fucking disrespectful. Atheism is ignorant and reeks of the perfect megalomaniac. Bring god out, ask it questions, pour it a drink and proceed.
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