A Post

Don’t try to win: play only. Is it a game? A sport? Disport Thyself. Destroy not thine enemy: love him into submission. Into surrender to that King or Queen of Play, of Sport. Do you like to play? To win is not possible—we only can act. We could play or we could strain. Why would we strain?—I don’t know. I think that for everyone, there must needs come a time when he must come upon the possibility of divinity, or Divinity—Godliness. Why would one continue endlessly?—for money?—(Mammon)? I don’t think anyone will. For love or money. Will I agree to restore those four or six chair seats I’ve been contacted about? Certainly not for money. For that which I want that money could buy? For love?—for love of what or whom? Should the chairs be restored?—are they of value to God? Do I want to be recognized as a valid writer?—as talented, beautiful, sweet, desirable—or as smart, or okay? Well, it might be fun to be popular. Anything is possible. I could be popular. What would be necessary? Would that be trying to win? Writing has been play. At least as regards other humans. And me. I don’t know how to succeed at anything except by doing it. I try to play basketball—did today. Not with others but by myself, shooting and dribbling. It was the one sport I couldn’t do well. Small hands, but what else could be involved? Sleight upper-body build. I tried using old-fashioned techniques. Of shooting with both hands, under-handed, and from behind the head with both hands. They overcome my weaknesses. I’m doing things lately that I hadn’t done for years and years. Looking for ways and means that work—that I hadn’t used before, to do them better than my ever before. Why wasn’t I able to work? Did I just have to heal? Rest? The emerald, golden ring improves my mind—it really does. Mercury, Budh. Propitiates Him it would seem. I chose not to buy the home occupation permit today. It does seem to be a racket. I guess I’ll have to change my address with the state for my sales and use tax thing. See what happens then. If I don’t do any business at home, the city can’t require me to buy the permit. Not receive any phone calls at home. For work. I still don’t want to pay income tax. I don’t believe it is constitutional—that the amendment was ratified. So evasion would be righteous. Right action. We all have to die someday anyway. What the hell!? Society has always persecuted the innocent I have been told. That’s just the way it is. Don’t do anything you don’t want to. It would be a SIN.

Why am I doing archery at the U.? For fun. But I don’t ever play. I am a serious person. I played a little bit when I was playing basketball last week. Fun. Doing something well. Artistically. Artistic archery. Do it for the love of it. So, if I love, I excel, huh? But I can’t love by trying to do so—by trying to love. Why? Yes, why? So what is love? Love is something. It must be existence itself. So if I try to love, I’m complicating life. Interfering in the natural flow of being. So what does that mean? Don’t I want to share? But it’s impossible to give if there is no receptivity where I want my love to go. But love is transcendental. So why can’t I give even if the other doesn’t want to receive? If I am love, then no-one can resist, because each of us is love. So that’s why I can’t give love. Because I am love. Is there anything else to say about that? I don’t know.