I once had someone remark to me: “I’m not religious – but I’m spiritual.”
That’s like going up to an attractive woman and luxuriating in the magnificence of her beauty; reveling, in the mere physical manifestations of her body… But whoa, whoa, whoa! I don’t want to know what you think. I don’t want to know you – to know if there might be a cost to the beauty I see before me – to know if ‘who you are’ is in any way necessary towards becoming ‘what you are’. I don’t want to know what necessary conditions must be met, before the light I see shining in your eyes can become manifest in mine.
You’re an object, upon which I’ll project my own fantasies; my own desires and wants. The cost of becoming such a beauty? There is no cost. It’s a free and airy kind of deity I demand; a deity who answers to me. I will accept no rules and regulations. I’ll have no limits placed upon my cravings, unless I put them there myself. Do not lay upon me any burdens or tasks, any requirements or conditions; for I am weary unto death.
Oh great mother-spirit of all known things, oh great and holy spirit-brother of us all…
Don’t speak… don’t spoil it for the rest of us.
Yeah… I’m spiritual, too.