What can we call this thing we refer to as spirituality? How can this word be of any use to us in our lives? This sort of vague, ephemerality. This sort of association to historical texts and postured events people have been waging wars over, both physical and ideological. The funny part of the whole business of spirituality is there isn’t much logic to it at all. It is playing on the emotions. And so we condemn the emotions. We cannot see them anyway. Or can we? We may see our emotions in the ways in which our bodies act, in the ways in which we speak. The emotion finds a way through. And so it would behoove us to think for a while here about the relationship between the felt, the sensory qualities of the body, and the emotions. And in this relationship between the felt and emotion, we begin to make out a color, a formation, a sensation which begins to take place in the world. The spirit, which was once regarded as sacred, of some higher order, was here all along in the feelings we experience in all varieties from the inane and banal, to the lavish and profane, the high stakes and vulnerable gains. In the feelings that are not expressed, and when repressed, build up steam. Steam that generates nations to exercise dangerous experiments upon each other. Steam that fuels systemic engines that motivate fiscal drives. To what end are all these actions taken but another form of the felt, the emotion, coming to life, animated through our very bodies and choices. So pay us some time to the felt, to the sensed, to the emotional body, and realize the fracture between the spirit and material is but a weak and feeble one. One that can easily be fused to service a living which considers values before taking action, which considers thought before making speech acts, which situates itself in motives which are questioned from multiple sides to reveal the reasoning to be full of folly. These aims, which we seek as ideal, are mere projections of the opposing force of fear. The deepest soul wrenching feelings of fear. And let`s be honest now, the feeling of the soul originates itself within the torso, the heart, the gut, the bowels. These are our bodies speaking. These fears are not figments of imagination until we drive them up from the body to the confines of the mind, which meet the ideological digest from sensory input. The pictures. The mediated lives through which society claims to be civilized. This civilization bears no compassion for humans but strives to maintain its existence through the excised bodies of the populace. Be not damned by the sentence to feel, to experience, but rather use this sense to rupture the notions of fate you may hold. There is not nothing to be found when you let go, there is everything in life to be experienced. Spirit is not ephemeral. Spirit is not rigor. Spirit is feeling, of sensation of the emotional body, which plays rupture to the fabric of myth in our lives.

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