i-Muse

Spirituality is a drug.

Anything that helps you transcend reality, anything that takes you to the surreal, anything that kills the present in you, and creates delusions of the future, is a drug.

The Alcoholic lays his hopes, dreams, sorrows and aspirations on a sublime glass of wine.

The typical Junkie shoots his insecurities out of his vein to the ethereal through the prick of a needle on his skin.

The Spiritualist?

He pins his hopes on the unseen and the unknown, stews in the ecstasy of belief that his karma is being fulfilled and that enlightenment is right around the corner, while in reality the clock of opportunity is ticking ominously near him, and is beckoning his blissfully unaware self to give sanity a chance.

Why, then, does our holier-than-thou community not hate the Spiritualist with the same fervor with which they hate the Alcoholic and the Junkie?

If productivity in life by human standards is the utmost virtue, why this blind-sided bias? Why this conscious denial of common sense?

I have seen men sauntering about in the name of discovering themselves, while their families squalor in poverty and in dire need of help. These men proudly renounce worldly pleasures, thinking that bliss for them lies elsewhere in the mystic realms of existence.

Either I'm crazy, or I live in a seriously tragicomic world. Jeez.

Free...