Balinese magic, Levity vs. gravity, Inspiration

In Bali, making an offering to the gods requires three things: holy water, smoke, and flowers.
They are wrapped in incadescent, almost neon green leaves, built in boxes of woven thatch and placed in entryways, near statues of ganesh adorned with a single flower petal, usually bright red, a vortex of welcoming infinity.

We exist as individuals as collections of miasmic thought, word, and deed. I worship those that write because they show their aptitude and willingness to perform sorcery and alchemy. I consider you a special kind of entity because you came upon me through a mirage of theater, an expression of my jesteresque energy, which could not be more contrived, yet simultaneously, like the political jester who frolicks about the royal court making an ass of himself, yet gathering intelligence from enemies, that aspect of myself is the most dangerous, the psychotic and zany element of my shadow psyche turned in on itself, like smearing my eye sockets with coal, and offering chunks of light fused into molten carbon, the still-smoking coal cores of a million hours of solitude in realms unknowable, the sickening remoteness of sterile hong kong shopping malls, the fused and frozen and broken dive bars in backwater indonesia, south korea, nepal. Writing poems amongst the anti-shangri-la.

Once I sat in a zen monastery and saw all the stress and neurosis that thrived there, feeding off the cool clarity of their master, I knew that anywhere is a temple if we decide. A single flame placed close enough can purify an aura; taking a cold shower will fry any negative energy in our field. Taking a bong hit and blowing it on a potted hyacinth, then gargling with spring water is the same as meditating for two hours, so long as the imagination is employed in an upward spiral. Gravity is an octave of music that gets so much of our attention, but, like a taoist master, Levity must always prevail, or nothing would grow.

This is an important concept to keep in mind. Purity is just an angle of focus toward the hidden levity in all things. I may seem distant and untouchable, but writing me a few paragraphs. . . writing me like that, with mention of archangels (which are now tattooed into my forearms forever) . . . you see more of me than you realize.

Wealth is ultimately a mindset. We can inhale in ragged, shallow breaths, with the use of toxin-infused sticks. . . or we can take a bus a half hour outside the city and sit among trees for a while, invite infinity into us, change out the gasses in our lungs, and feel the electricity whirling in creative vortices . . .

I am always thinking about handfuls of choices as alchemical ingredients. The first law of alchemy: consume what you are attracted to. Eventually you have a pretty good potion. A little later, you are gold incarnate.