A Pot To Piss In

Like a recovering addict, I’m struggling today with my very existence. Stronger than I’ve ever been after due diligence, the very cognizance of this subtle addiction, however, caught me quite off guard. You see, up until now, me and my good friend had been damn fine company for the other. In each other we found solace, room for growth, as well as introspection. But today, an intractable wall has been met.
Years ago I took a personal vow of poverty. Having lived for many years and dabbling in every excess I could, living my life to the hilt, the time came for me to cleanse my system of the wretched excesses which had made me a slave to their every want and need. And there were many...
Selling everything I had and removing the yoke of debt which had kept me the financial slave was very easy. Liberating even. Moving to the middle of nowhere to squat on a friend of mine’s sprawling ranch gave me time to cleanse myself of most all that civilization had foistered upon me, leaving the imprint of Western society far behind. I was alone and unencumbered. Me and nature. And slowly, over time, as if tempering a sword, I was made stronger by my ability to realize what was important in this world, what my needs were versus mere wants, my body and my mind strengthened, gaining knowledge with every passing day from the solitude and surrounding nature. From time to time I would have a chuckle recalling all that had cluttered my life heretofore, wondering if perchance I’d chosen the wrong tack. But like a recovering addict who knows this course of action to be life affirming, I persevered to rid myself of what had once kept me a prisoner; a prisoner due to a lifestyle that hadn’t an ounce of importance in the big scheme of things. Diddly squat, really.
The test of my resolve required that I take a vow of poverty. No job. No paycheck. Nada. Without a stack of monthly bills, only requiring nourishment, the lack of money wasn’t a problem, my simple needs always met. Whenever I had to budget a couple of dollars, I grew excited and invigorated at the power of meager needs. Going out in public and not wanting to rearrange my viewpoint or splash money around like a fool, empowered me. And slowly, assuredly, I grew stronger with more clarity and focus than I’d ever felt before.
A short time ago, after three years of complete and utter solitude, below the radar of poverty, I moved to the city to put into play several business options whose doors opened to me, the universe working its magic. I figured I must be ready for the tasks at hand, and now the time to move into this next chapter.
Over the course of the next year, remaining true to my vow of poverty, I’ve managed to get closer to my goals every day, staying due course. Seed that has been planted during this odyssey is only now breaking ground with new growth. I can literally smell the next chapter.
But unexpectedly, the worm, she did turn... and the time of change is upon me.
My friend, poverty, taught me much, but like a drug that’s run its course, the buzz is no longer there. And instead of teaching me, shaping me, the poverty is now a ponderous weight that keeps me from flying. Like a drug, who is now master and who slave?
The time to break from the crushing grip of poverty is now. I have learned. I’ve been tempered. The time has come to wield the sword and live a life deserving.
Ungowa!