Beginning Notes on a Hungry Ghost

In a world saturated with the valuing of productivity, I align myself with the nonproductive. With the moments never written down. With the shared felt experience that cannot be bought / paid for / sold. This too must be honored, must be recognized, must be given attention. 

How am I being unproductive? 

How are the threads between what is deemed productive and what is deemed unproductive co-mingle and feed one another? 

How have I been taught to define these terms and how am I defining them for myself? 

Oh, how I know capitalism lives in my bones when I whirl around sacrificing the slowness of my body movements to complete, complete, finish, finish, have something to show for myself, have something to show for myself. I am of value, look at me! Look at this finished product, this finished me, look at me I am a finished product, buy me, buy me, buy me!

How complex our inner worlds mixed with the outer worlds with the inner worlds of our parents, our teachers, our cultural identities. 

What are the politics of dependency? 

A space of true value. Mingling with the reality of living in a world diving in upon itself. 

What we have given (or been tricked into being given) value in modern day society is dangerous. It has set us up on a crash course, a hurtful, painful open extinction wound. 

I bear the mark of this wound, upon my heart. 

I feel the many things that have been forgotten. 

I am doing my best to humbly remember. 

To listen. 

This, I feel, is what is most needed from us.