by LJ Frank

How much longer can I afford to exist?

Money and the empowering effect that comes with it is an ancient root cause for the conflict between justice and injustice, ethical and unethical behavior, and an imprisoned mind, and a mindscape of openness.

To what measure can I afford to live in the camouflaged reality like design of an environment called my country where lobbyists seek super-sized prisons for those that are regulated, legislated, and otherwise consumed by systems of injustice calculated to increase the wealth of those in the upper financial brackets of society, alongside the concept of “law & order”…and where citizens continue to compete with each other for diminished pieces of existence under the framework of “I live, not merely to exist,” …to live is sold, packaged, and consumed every hour of every day in colorized synonyms of reality.

Envy is a corporate tool that has invaded religion *the gospel of wealth” and educational institutions, the “right place equates to success”, etcetera. Look at what I sold you has now allowed me to do – my lifestyle, education, home, hobbies, ad infinitum. The advertisement of capitalism is not about sharing “my wealth”, but about directing the dreams of those that are less fortunate. The pie is getting smaller. And self-help experts on all topics looking for the extra dollars continue in increasing numbers.

To paraphrase the thoughts of a friend in the form of a question, how does one connect the dots between defining and living authentically, being true to one’s integrity and self, and all within the quality of how well our body holds up?

If options are imaginable, where do we migrate to – what country, state, city and or neighborhood? How do we restructure our existence? How will one live an authentic life, with integrity in an environment of illusions?

Will our migrations tomorrow simply be a log on and log off within a chemically induced switch within the brain? What is the future of humanity if we discover that the world is a large “Gaza Strip” (open-air prison) with artificial border crossings as if to signify that the other place is better?

I breathe, eat, drink, and dwell within that which I can afford. I live and strive in anticipation. The question of time remains.

When my body breaks down, my mind no longer finds rest, where faith dies a slow death in my arms, with a lingering hope that perhaps I got it all wrong, where I can no longer walk on the beach that’s now “private, keep out,” where my work has been outsourced by a politician seeking voter approval, or replaced by artificial intelligence or a humanoid, where I am unable to afford my doctor’s prescriptions, nor healthy food or drinkable water, and where the options to live are now simply to barely exist – how much longer do I stay?

What will survival migrancy look like tomorrow?