a meditation about money ...
I love money, and money loves me. Money is just energy, all energy, flowing energy. Money loves me, and can't wait to flow to me, to collaborate with me.
Money is lilac light at sunset, the smell of honeysuckle, the internal soundtrack of train whistles and slide guitar. Money drives a vintage pick-up and wears muddy boots, all swagger and dash, or sashay and flounce, and such a great ass, either way, all ways! Money sports a perfect 5 o'clock shadow, or the most ideal messy up-do, and laugh lines, and throws its head back to laugh from its belly, every time.
I love money, and money loves me. We're running partners - heading down back alleys and dirt roads, bumping Stevie Ray Vaughan and Led Zeppelin, Heart and Grace Potter, mixing in some Erik Satie and Boney James. Our dialogue is endless, all threads pulled together from our hearts - open share, total reveal. We love collaborating. We love getting into mischief-of-the-positive-kind together! We love pulling out our giving maps and devising our plans. Money is my wing man, and I am money's wing woman. A team. Inside each other's heads. It's so easy; we're so easy and natural together. Money and I pop the tabs on a cold one and lay back like teenagers in our floating chairs, splashing and lazing in the pool at the end of a summer day. Money is Captain Jack Sparrow and Zena and Janis Joplin and Jimmy Page, and every possible swashbuckler and pirate and unceasing adventurer, male and female, all the way in it with me.
Money is my non-physical energy team, in capacity beyond standing-room-only with positive and participating entities. We jump fences and throw energy cherry bombs into the cosmos; we dance around fires on the beach; we surf our own energy waves and play tag with sharks and whales and every winged thing. We toast each other with tequila or cherry Koolaid, with Arnold Palmers or Diet Coke with Lime. Something we're wearing is always either leather or fringed, usually both. We cut the fruit of everything open and swallow every good juice. We flow love. We flow fun.
Money loves me and I love money; we're the same; we're kindreds; we're best friends and partners in positive crimes! So easy. So organic and natural.
I feel like you all, you cadre of entities and energy, want to have a name. I love it! So what's your name, then? Tell me. [I see an image, a flash, from the movie Quigley Down Under, of Cora (me) and Quigley (you) - kooky, deep, focused, strong, and real - each and all of us with deadly aim! Ahhhh - I understand.]
Your collective name is Roy. Roy. Yes, of course.
Howdy, Roy. Ohhh -- howdy.
Wanna lace up our boots, jump in that cosmic truck, and go blow some shit up?