There is a certain wealth accessible to man, but one so unconventional as to resemble poverty. Its possession diminishes a man’s holdings rather than increasing them. Everyone arrives here rich, and most spend the rest of their life attempting to become more so. A few, (however), are born with a propensity to get sidetracked from the rest. They smell a wealth that is not traded in the market place…it is a commodity whose value is in making its possessor poor.
…(Poor people! What a curious treasure!)
Obtaining this wealth strips a man of all ordinary mentation. He is beyond being merely naked, he is so inwardly destitute as to be invisible. He is like a mentally homeless person in the midst of a bustling city, who is not even noticed by the rest of the people mentally immersed in their busy, commercial affairs.
He ultimately is such a figure in the metropolis of his own mind, poverty stricken through his own efforts; lacking in the routine mental currency in use all around him. Nothing there he can buy anymore; nothing there he desires anymore. Once rendered poor by the acquisition of the special wealth, he simply forgets to think about imaginary possessions. (Pssst! All mental possessions are, you know, the “i” word.)
Everyone believes they need help. Not just to physically survive, but to inwardly thrive. Their mind hungers for nourishment AND assistance in locating it. Most men live their inner lives as children, taking in whatever another’s hand offers in a spoon. From a flesh-and-bone view, not only do ordinary minds live on pablum, but on a strictly imaginary form at that, BUT additional reflections to survive.