Religious Re-Basing

April 16, 2019

Occasionally you meet someone on your path, a circumstantial companion if you will.  This person isn’t just attractive, they have gravity.  A pull. They alter your orbit and send you off on a new course.  When it happens for the first time it blindsides you. Couldn’t believe it was possible to walk in step with someone so effortlessly.  The beats of your lives are a harmony of the deep music of the universe. Our guest this week wasn’t my first, or even in the first dozen to alter my trajectory.  My path as been so full of magnificent members of the universe that I feel like a Pokemon trainer. I’m collecting the legendary creatures! By the time I ran into Base Miami’s Rabbi, I was just ready and open to receive.  He fit like a puzzle piece into my life.

It’s been said, anyone who goes to a psychiatrist ought to have their head examined.  It’s the same with spiritual leaders. Adam Gindea is my spiritual brother from another mother.  It’s safe to say we dig each other. To put it mildly. I can’t help but geek out with him over esoterically obscure religious texts.  He shows me Jewish mystics, I show him Chinese philosophers or Indian ascetics and together we froth over the similarities synchronicites and syntaxis.  It’s a monthly occurrence. We might overdo it a bit. Whatever. Don’t Kinkshame us.


Well, it’s time.  We need to talk. I was hesitant, resistant even.  I tried to love you, like the Chili Peppers, but it was more of a hot mess than I care to admit.  7 is a good number of years.  Numerology isn’t something I’m into in general but in specific cases it speaks to me.

Ughh, I’m putting this off…coming at this in a roundabout way.  I want to do the fadeaway  It’s so hard to say, but I’m riding this number thing so I’ll stick with that.  Have you heard of Dunbar’s Number?  Primates have a limit to their social groups based on the size of their brain parts.  For humans its 150.

I’m not saying we can’t still be friends.  You shaped me in ways I’ll never forget. You taught me about community, heartbreak, culture, and podcasting.  There’s no easy way to say it.  

Miami, I’m leaving you.  

So is Brian.

You don’t fit in our 150 anymore. You were a harsh mistress but we aren’t leaving out of malice. We are leaving for love.  We are running to and not from. It wasn’t the men, cause there were other women, this just isn’t love, it’s just the remorse of a loss of a feeling.

So long Miami. You’re beautiful, shallow, seedy, and your heart is hidden but I love you.

Is there a word for laughing maniacally, while crying and driving?  Better check the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. Cause that’s what I did leaving this city.  Driver’s on I-95 must have thought I had lost it.  I was in good company though, I was on I-95 after all.



Breathe In Strength, Breathe Out Bullshit

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