A long time ago I looked into the face of hungry men who had brilliance and passion for innovation and building a better world. I danced with them.
Then upon closer examination.
I found they danced to the tune of the same old drummer that all others before them danced along with.
Same song, different musicians.
Head to the hills!
Get back to the soil!
Man shall eat by the sweat of his brow!
Never shall a man fiat a Junior Mint from naught!
Manifest your thought without pain?
God forbid!
You’ll manifest the pain instead.
Pain is the fruit!
Money IS pain on lay-away
Pain is harvested by The Master
And The Master likes his pain.
Should man exist without the pain?
Will mankind get off the plantation?
Not likely.
The crab collector knows he doesn’t need a lid. The crabs will always pull one another back into the pot.