Island of Pirates
I’ve been thinking about the difference between values and morality and legality and also my friends. They are pirates and robin hoods - all of us sitting in the park making art with stolen paint and beads bought on closed credit cards and wearing outfits we plundered from Value Village. All of us are righteous in our willingness and ability to commit these acts. Every time I go to shoppers drug mart I come out with a new lip gloss and less remorse about capitalism all without spending a dime. One has a growing collection of dollar store acrylic paint that fits into his pocket every time he visits. All of the girls and gays and theys blatantly change sticker tags for what won’t fit in our totes or say “if anyone ever says anything I will use object impermanence and ADHD as my excuse - I forgot it was in my hand, forgot I put it in my bag, forgot I had a bag, forgot I even existed".
But none of us are caught and none of us are guilty, all vacillating between pride and awe as someone brings grapes we stole back to the picnic. It has become a spiritual practice to listen to what feels good - to all know the rules. Put your money into small businesses. Put your pride into things made, and your honesty into the ears of your friends, your judgement towards the system and compassion towards how we all choose to thrive together in a park in the sun in the summer in each others company. I get free mushrooms and so we go on a light hearted adventure together. Another has a father who grows weed so we light several joints over several days sinking into silliness.
Kleptomania becomes a salve for the way we want to exist together, it becomes a shared responsibility amongst peers so no-one is ever too fraught with repercussion or lingering thoughts of rightness and wrongness. Sure we could get caught but as we say “what are they going to do, arrest all of us?” and maybe they will one day but I doubt it. Someone overhears us and rats themselves out “I will never buy Advil again” and we cheer along our ally.
Spirituality is entwined with morality, and it is my belief that all things are inherently neutral. Not without consequence - which is also neutral. My consequences are having more money to buy cold cans of Nestea from my local dep. That I always have the lipgloss and every friend always wants to go through my bag which is frankly something I deeply delight in. You can always come over for dinner, you can always borrow my car, you can always ask me for ideas and resources for your latest upcycle. Sometimes I buy a plant from an Asian woman who has been in the same store for decades and then I propogate the little pieces to give to everyone I love - one plant becomes three, becomes five, becomes one hundred over time as we all do the same things to extend the landscape of wealth to each island of self.
I practice a healthy amount of resentment alongside my freedom and flippancy. Allow myself for two minutes in the shower to be angry and cold and bitter about the state of some things. Then I turn the water, become actually cold, come to my senses - all the riches and richness of my life.
“What can I bring?”
“Whatever you stole.”
“What do you need?”
“Whatever you have.”
“What can I make?”
“Whatever your ingredients allow.”
And we all bring our blankets together in the grass and we all share our stories and we all give something of ourselves away as a trust, as a bond, as a security blanket. I will trade sleeping on my couch when your power is out if you capture me on film. I will trade this concert ticket for your trust. I will trade dinner for dinner, card game for card game, tattoos for website, hand cream for braids in my hair tied with little pieces of grass. We’re an island of pirates with smiles plastered on our faces and our butts sticking out of jorts we’ve had for 15 years and we’re trading furniture and we’re all being in love with lying to the things we do not care about.