Lamar’s a man rather hell bent on enjoying his own time. Loves it. He doesn’t have to admonish the world about anything. He doesn’t have any complaints. All he wants to do is bask in the glory of his own time window.
On the outside, the surface, he is a regular dude. He has a family, a full-time job, a child on the way – the whole shebang. The thoughts which take up root in his mind are the usual ones – work, food, organization, getting gas, what’s this person going to say, what’s that person want, the usual. At the end of the day he comes home, gets a few more work-related tasks in, has dinner, goofs off a bit, and goes to bed. He wakes up the next day, kisses the girl of his dreams, and goes back to work. You get the idea.
Every so often Lamar has time to himself, and this time, no matter how much, like a scattering of droplets on a desert floor, is sacred to him. He realizes that time is the one abstract commodity they don’t make any more of in life, and like an addict, he will do what he can to protect it.
Yet at work Lamar has a good work ethic and shows up on time. He goes to the required meetings and stays until he’s supposed to. Lamar follows the rules and keeps his head down. He stays in the dark, allowing the limelight to swallow those who thirst for it. And when the weekends come Lamar’s time is Lamar’s time.
Then they came to take it away.
“Lamar,” they said. “there’s a bit more we want you to do.”
Lamar was leery, and cocked his head a bit when they spoke.
“No need to be anxious, boy,” they said. “We’ll pay you, of course.”
He listened to their words, their sweet words – words that sounded like candy. Many would fall over for these, he thought. Many probably have. Lamar listened as they sang to him. The words poured from them, candied sugar-coated words.
And the money –
…he shook his head at the money.
Piles and awful piles of smooth, warm, fragrant bills surfaced in the warm water of their words.
But when the days were done and Lamar returned to the quiet comfort of his own thoughts and the girl of his dreams beside him, he had time to listen.
And he heard the Voice – the only true voice of his spirit, the voice of his heart.
And no. This offering was not good for him. Yes, it would gain him place in the World of the Ten Thousand Things, and power. It would gain him fake smiles, superficial status, and false friends. It would satisfy all the qualities deemed praiseworthy of those who live in servitude to the Material Queen Mother. Yet, it would rot his insides, and make fester the essence of his soul. Resentment toward his own holy self would spring forth, and he would know that to some degree, an unacceptable degree, he sold himself into something which has only value in the eyes of other beings. He would know then that he valued others opinions of him more than his opinion of himself.
So Lamar intends to live the life of his own choosing, understanding that it may or may not be wrapped in the green designer paper of the superficial sphere. He chooses, above all else, to value the time the Great Source has granted his life. He chooses to spend this time engaged in what he loves.
He chooses to be happy.