Chapter 1
December 12 (Sunset)
I don't talk to anyone at the market, except 'the captain.' I particularly appreciate his strong New Jerseyan accent; I benefit from his experience and wisdom in these 'affairs.' I envy his patience and discipline in capital accumulation. Ideally, I wouldn't entrust my money to anyone, but I have no choice. I don't trust myself. I could accumulate faster if only I could stop buying nonsense. However, I can't stop buying "medications." It's essential to be well.
December 13 (Dawn)
Broke, I jump on a bus heading to a cafe where I plan to sit without buying anything. A deep unease takes over my entire being because I know I have no choice but to go do the task today. Only if I had stopped transacting before my losses exceeded twenty dollars, would I have had the freedom to decide whether to collect additional resources without worrying about my base capital.
December 13 (Noon)
Today, I was the first to arrive at the task location, not due to a sudden impulse but because the church where I take self-help lessons is very close. Apart from the fact that few people were still there, allowing me to write and meditate without distraction or disturbance, it was imperative to start collecting funds early because, once again, like a fool, I took risks with my base capital the previous night and lost everything.
There was a time when I tried, unsuccessfully, to do the task with sincerity. The concept of orthopraxy, in distinction from orthodoxy, interested me greatly. Never having believed in "non-scientific" things, I wanted to explore if by trying to do something, I could generate cognitive dissonance to believe. Alas, it didn't work. Maybe I misunderstood all these ideas.
December 13 (Afternoon)
I am satisfied not to be obliged to fulfill "the task" during this solar period. Yesterday, my transactions with that other “individual of the market” took a positive turn. So, I have the necessary funds for the evening and enough for medications.
Instead of adhering to "the task" five times a day, I decided to either meditate or medicate, depending on the availability of time or financial resources, then dedicate some time to writing. There, my new ritual!
December 13 (Sunset)
I leave the cafe, perhaps a little too pleased not to have to set foot in a 'duty place' today. I enjoyed the tranquility of being able to leisurely read today in addition to having enough time for meditation and literary pursuits. I head to the nearest park to enjoy my medication before boarding the bus to the market. My happiness is tinged with guilt because what contributed to my success last night is having extra funds that I cheated from "the captain." He is the only person at the market I can trust and who trusts me, and I deceived him to have more capital to work with. Tonight, I will have to hide in a corner of the market, after my transaction, to avoid "the captain."
December 13 (Twilight)
At the end of the day, hiding again in a corner of the market to avoid "the captain" to whom I remain indebted, having no desire to give him any profit from my capital, his capital in reality, I strive to preserve even these modest ill-gotten gains. The lights, bells, and sounds of the market individuals' rows beckon me with their siren songs evoking quick gains and illusory prosperity. I clench my fists, my inner monologue becoming a battlefield of conflicting desires. The stern warnings of "the captain" resonate in my head, an obsessive refrain evoking the misery that awaits the imprudent entrepreneur.
**December 15 (Dawn)**
The air today is cooler. Meditation in my park temple this morning is less appealing. As a result, this afternoon, I find myself compelled to return to a “location of the duty” if I want to pay homage to my new religion. The pleasure derived from "my medication" fades when it's cold, but I can't imagine depriving myself of it, even if my extra funds are limited and should be dedicated exclusively to capital accumulation.
During a captivating conversation with a cultural anthropologist with a Ph.D., we explored the intriguing idea that if extraterrestrial beings visited Earth and observed humans engrossed in a board game, such as Monopoly, they might interpret it as a religious ritual. According to his in-depth studies, he posited that the fundamental essence of "religion" lies in regularly performed actions, framed by rules, within a group.
His theory suggests that the origins of religious practices can be traced back to a human inclination to participate in collective activities. As groups met, a natural tendency to borrow and merge ideas from diverse cultural activities emerged, eventually leading to the creation of new religions.
Essentially, he suggested that the genesis of religions is closely tied to the fabric of human sociability, evolving in response to an innate desire for shared experiences. This perspective illuminates the adaptive nature of religious practices, suggesting that the amalgamation of rituals and beliefs across cultures reflects an ongoing process of cultural exchange and synthesis.
So, why should I refrain from creating my own religion? But does it constitute a religion if I practice it in solitude?
