I.

I just wanted a kiss. One kiss to alleviate the pain. Of him, of her. The problem is I’m extremely particular and can barely keep company with most people, let alone be skin to skin. So, I rode the waves of grief as a nun.

But here it was, my chance. At an outdoor market in San Pancho, Mexico, a lazy, bohemian coastal town, I contemplated a necklace handcrafted by the Peruvian vendor. Intricate metal work embedded with amethyst and moon stones—an empress piece, something I would never wear, but it was calling to me. “It’s too much” I mused out loud. His first line as he appeared at my side: “You are money.”

I turned to see a jalopy version of Bradly Cooper. A large wicker hat spraying sun freckles across his prominent nose and turning his eyes to rainbow opals. The hat put me off, somehow screaming I’m a tourist! But we got to talking and had an immediate intellectual rapport, spanning a wide breadth of topics in twenty minutes.

As I walked away from him elated, necklace in hand, I knew it: I was finally going to get my kiss (one of my goals for this trip other than location scouting and prepping for my next feature film).

We scheduled a time to meet in the morning, an ungodly hour for me, but he wanted to make me breakfast, I don’t do breakfast, so I said we’d have tea. In the meantime, I tried to mitigate the romantical stories that began to infiltrate my logical mainframe, a common mental habit of the mating game. Usually, the stories are fantasy notions, so I put them at bay, or at least attempted to.

I showed up at the place he was housesitting and entered a ramshackle kitchen. Stacks of dishes with mold icing, half-eaten pizza, and pot paraphernalia cascaded against primary-colored walls: a stoner still life. A measly trickle of light from the sparse windows illuminated the scene.

I tried to wash some mugs with a dirty sponge, my mind crawling with invisible bacteria. We settled for tea after my squeamish preparation and he whipped out a bong. I politely declined and we proceeded to chat, his eyes reddening as the conversation intensified.

Bits and pieces of his scrambled life began to form the puzzle before me. He has a thing for Latina women, I’m the first white female he’s hung with in years. They are “so warm, passionate, and intense, but so much repressed trauma. And why do they dress so scantily when they’re coming in to get free massages from me?! I know they do it on purpose to drive me crazy! And why don’t they appreciate my gifts, my sacred yoni massages?! They’re using me!”

Mmhmm.

Before Mexico he was in Thailand for a couple years. He married a Thai girl, she was—"model-esque, an it-girl, making men and women stare.” It didn’t end well, he pays alimony. I stared at him, “you didn’t know that this is a thing savvy, modelesque Thai women do, marry gullible white guys?” No, he didn’t.

His psychic seams unstitched as he frenetically paced. My heart sank, kissing urges plunging along with it. Finally, he stopped mid-pace as if having an epiphany. “Do you think I’m a sex addict?” he asked.

Yes. I do.  

I smiled warily at him and packed up to leave, eyes filled with tears of deflation and the already-present heartbreak that was still tenderly mending.

It was Easter and I was wearing all white—a vestal counterpart for his hedonism. I walked along the sun splattered cobblestone streets and contemplated the strange interlude, church bells echoing in the distance. I believe that reality is a mirror. I believe we tune into frequencies at which we resonate.  So, I had to question what the reality mirror was reflecting in me.

II. 

Something that had been on my mind during this trip was the commodification of reality. Sayulita, the town I was primarily staying in, is a hotbed of globetrotting tourism and the perfect embodiment of that notion.

What exactly is the commodification of reality?

It’s the parsing and evaluation of reality for one’s identity complex to profit. In simpler terms: It’s engaging life through a perpetual, largely unconscious, assessment of experiences, people, and things—what has value or doesn’t. The foundation for this, of course, is a seemingly separate identity complex that’s making the appraisals.

Basically, it’s the way we all live to a greater or lesser degree, subtly ubiquitous—the bedrock of identity and society. It may appear as an obvious, normal way to live—sifting through phenomena with a filter of valuation. However, what it does is it cuts one off from the full experience of life as one of ultimate value—from the mundane to the grandiose, from the excruciating to the blissful.

Addiction is an extreme form of the commodification of reality, in which we’ve become essentially cut off from the total picture of ultimate value and instead fixated on the object, behavior, or person we’re addicted to. Ironically, we often unconsciously value the experience of pain, as that’s what keeps our identity complex intact.

When we commodify reality, we create fragmentation and partitions. First, of ourselves as a separate identity, then through identity markers—political, spiritual, biological, economic, cultural—we sift through the rest of the world with an eye on what will secure and fortify our identity complex. Often our filter over reality renders those who don’t add value obsolete, practically invisible, definitely not consequential. In this way we disregard the incredible light that each and every being uniquely carries. On the other hand, we impart negative value to those who are a perceived threat to our identity complex, creating enemies and “others.” This in fact imbues them with value and power that keeps our identity intact via having a contrasting opposite to secure our borders.

We’re caught up in the images of reality rather than the deeper mystery that exists at the zero point where life actually happens, a place where few exist. The landscape of commodification is populated by symbols and semiotics, which exist in the past and future and never in the now. So, we’re perpetually living in an overlay over reality, rather than in the evergreen sensation of life as it is, in all its undiscovered, mysterious, undefined splendor.

Often, we’re tuning out whatever is in front of us and are instead caught up in thought. The reason we honor the hi-def drama in our head in lieu of the physical world surrounding us is because we’re thinking about things we’ve given value, while we devalue the real, live moment and reality surrounding us. Next thing we know we’ve lived most of our lives not actually living at all.

Of course, valuation is firstly about basic survival. If we go into the psychology of it, we’re biologically primed since birth to first and foremost value the mother’s breast that gives us life. Probably herein lies the origin story for commodification, but that’s another discourse.

We’re often caught in a cerebral landscape of worry and anxiety—about making ends meet, our job or lack thereof, a deadline, unmet goals, success vs. failure, or something embarrassing we may have done or said. These things threaten our physical or societal survival, so clearly they’re more important than the banal moment we’re living at the grocery store with the non-player characters of co-shoppers and clerks.

Our trip to the store, in and of itself it is not the “thing,” it’s a thing to get us to something else. But this happens with all of life. Because most moments are perceived of as in between, or something to get us to “the thing.” The thing, the place, the person that will finally have true value. Yet, funny enough, that never seems to arrive.

This modality has been instilled into us. I can only speak to Western society, but here the foundation of our society and systems is commodification. We ourselves and our every waking moment—our time—has been commodified by something seemingly more powerful than us, so we’re a cog in a much larger system. But there’s another way.

The remedy to this fragmented, abstracted, consumeristic, egocentric, enslaved way of being is an immersive flow of life and identity where we no longer continually escape from what is. The escape being not only in the form of following internal thoughts, but also external thoughts—where we don’t actually engage what’s before us but instead an overlay of concepts of what we think is before us.

The commodification of reality keeps you separate from reality. It keeps you away from everything because you are always looking for something.

The antidote is full-on immersive beingness, planted firmly yet fluidly in the isness of reality exactly as it is with no separate, fixed identity that needs to seek or strive for something that is not already. When you’re in this wholeness, everything is a perfect, opulent manifestation of universal materiality. You enter a new realm. This new realm is the realm of cosmic play, and very few exist here. I’ll return to this. But back to my story.

III.

As I contemplated how jalopy Brad Cooper and his sex addiction reflected me, I saw that I too was commodifying. I was so bent on having my rebound kiss that every interaction became a potential for this value exchange. I saw that he was reflecting that part of me that felt I needed to get “something” to feel empowered after a disempowering break up. I needed something to feed my identity. He may be traveling the world on the hunt for new forms of sexual sensation and validation, but that’s just the outer decor for a deeper, primordial desire.  

It could be anything. Overt, noxious tourism is just an obvious example. I’m put off by consumerism and commodification in that way. But I have my own subtler, seemingly more sophisticated versions. Whether it’s striving for academic accolades, the proper film festival acceptance, the multi-dimensional experience to break me through to the other side, or the worthy mate to affirm my worth. There’s a million things and each has to do with the identity complex that we’re fighting to keep alive. Even if it’s the most basic level of survival of the body itself.

What happens when we go beyond commodifying reality?

We enter reality.

We enter the dimension of reality that’s immersive.

IV.

Immersive reality. The zero space. When we are no longer parsing, separating, judging, evaluating (or identifying with the thoughts that do) we enter a seamless existence where we’re interconnected with everything. It does not mean we transcend our body or are outside our body. Our body is very much a part of this seamlessness, and we are very much embodied, more than ever before. But the confines of the body are not the end of us. That is one layer in the immersiveness of us. We are interconnected with all of reality. The particle and the wave. 

This feels like a fluidity, like you are perpetually on the front edge of the wave of creation, self-creating, making meaning, and eventually materializing new form as you learn to harness what’s available in this potentiated space. Some call it the quantum field, it could be called the zero space, the now. But these are just titles and words. When you are existing here you are playing in the fields of time and space. You are no longer separating from the total picture or moving outside of the space where you perpetually glide with all of reality seamlessly. You are not fragmenting yourself off as a separate isolated identity. Identity comes and goes, no problem, it is part of the play but never fully you. Thoughts come and go, no problem. They have their own path and purpose, but you don’t follow them or identify with them.

Here is the pulse of life, which is a dynamic movement of light and frequency. You are a self-perpetuating mechanism that’s eternally creating and discovering itself. You are not your name, your job, your family, your likes or dislikes, your age, your gender, your body. But those things fluidly move in and out of the zero space. You play with identity as there’s no problem with identity, but you are not fixed or confined.

As you exist here you begin to learn the landscape of this new reality. It’s like the next frontier of being human. The land of cosmic play.

V. 

Emotional Commodification

In the same way that we evaluate objects, people, and experiences, we do the same with emotions and sensations. People are constantly moving towards “positive” emotions/sensations, while resisting/repressing so called negative. When you move beyond commodification you also stop evaluating emotions and sensations as being wanted or unwanted. You invite and welcome all emotions, and further when you do this, you’re able to even move past the construct of the labeling or naming emotions: i.e., sad, happy, angry, depressed, etc., and can pare them down to the more fundamental sensations. No longer making stories about them, but being with the sensation purely, without resistance.

In this way life becomes a rich cornucopia of sensations that are like colors on a paint palette. No color or sensation rejected as unwanted or bad. You move past the binaries of good/bad, positive/negative and into a much more nuanced and poetic way of interacting with your everyday emotional movements.

VI. 

Of course, we must also consider the societal context.

In my previous essays I speak of the holographic nature of reality, and the creation of consensual reality through semiotics and symbols over time. Not only are we living in a sort of simulation constructed of concretized thought forms, within that a digital reality has been erected, a dream within a dream. This is practically the primary reality at this time. As I perch like an owl in my apartment, overlooking the majestic Lake Michigan and my park of a front yard, I see most people walking along in the great outdoors with necks kinked, heads drooping like wilted flowers, eyes glued to the mini screens in front of them. The digital extension of their reality and identity.

The most abstracted and synthesized version of the commodification of reality. Now not only are we caught in our mental broadcasts, and our synthetic overlay of meaning and evaluation, we are glued into another reality altogether that has sprung up like a bubble that we’ve all jumped into without question.

We all know that we’re not fulfilled by this mimetic realm. If we look at it plainly it’s awkward and weird, creating a derivative version of our lives to broadcast in a hallway of echoes and mirrors. As an artist it’s confusing because I feel the innate need to express to complete a circuit, and we are all creators and artists in some way or another. But I find it a strange realm to engage in. As a visual artist what was once novel has become ubiquitous. In an oversaturated landscape we question, artistically, what actually has meaning and provides inspiration at this time?

For about a month, I basically haven’t been on social media. I’ve popped on here and there and saw that it was indeed the same unfulfilling spectacle as it was the last time. I mindlessly browsed for a few minutes then deleted the app once again from my phone. I question myself when I want to share. What am I sharing, is it an aspect of my fullness of expression (yes at times it is) or is it just some weak ploy to feel connected and derive approval or energy of some sort? I want my sharing in real or digital life to be a source of life-giving inspiration, whether what I share is my weird vulnerabilities, triumphs and joys, or simply my artistic expression.

But then there is the potential of it, like anything else, to be a direct expression of universal materiality expressing and experiencing itself spontaneously, freely, un-self-consciously, and without censor. I don’t have a judgement of social media, my sharing or others, my use, or others.’ But I am noticing that the phenomenon of having mini-TVs in our hands that we’re constantly glued to, even when walking along a beautiful lake, is fucking weird. And the algorithms that are currently running are an extension of the same commodified system we’ve all been born into. I see that as we evolve, technology will also evolve along with us to be an extension of our innate superpowers and to allow for the quick transmission of ideas, light, and love.

When I’m off my phone, I feel free, and the immersiveness of real life feels so vibrant and rich, especially in comparison to the simulated digital landscape. I find myself able to take in the nuances of the “real world,” and I say that in quotes because I actually think that the real world too is a sort of simulation.

To be truly free and not a slave to a system that is not our own we must return to the zero point, the free energy from which true choice can occur. There we have living power, choice, and freedom. There we can play, we can create—an entirely new system, an entirely new material dimension. This is the new reality we are entering; this is what’s possible now.

There are no confines and the material with which we architect is light.

VII. 

Like many of my stories, this is a living tale. As I’m writing I’m deciphering. It appears I had to fly across the world with days of jet lag, sleeping on hard surfaces, day inverted to night, dehydration, and poor nutrition for me to play out a stronghold of my own commodification of reality. I came to Bristol, England to meet my future self, weird to say, but it was indeed a multidimensional mission. And I came with an agenda, a specific something special that I wanted to transpire.

The irony of this flashed through my mind, of course, that it was the antithesis of what I’m writing about. But many of these ways of being are hidden in plain sight, purposefully invisible to us as we can’t really imagine letting go of holding altogether, so we sequester away those last morsels of value hierarchy.

I want to firmly clarify that in the immersiveness of being we also feel attachment, desire, want, hunger, clinging and cleaving. When we try to live an ascetic, non-attached life that itself becomes the commodification. What I’m speaking of is an entry into a more fluid way of living where we’re continually shedding the mechanism of holding itself. Entering the ultimate experience, ironically, holding included. It’s a paradox. But that is the way of the future. We’re entering a more paradoxical realm, beyond the binary systems that our minds have hereto been designed around.

So, I came to Bristol for an experience, a multidimensional experience, the ultimate experience. As far as my agenda, I got the converse. Which, of course, I knew I would. I’m dealing with my future self here and she’s way too advanced to feed my hungry ghost. Yet what I did receive was so much more profound and full, though I had to crack open further to even see it. It could not fit into the compartmentalization of that smaller drive for something, and with its trickster nature it shattered into everything. So I traveled across the world to be planted squarely and ever more powerfully right back where I always am. As me and the totality. No apology. No need for permission or confirmation. And jalopy Brad Cooper was right: I am money, we are money. And my hankering for a kiss…fulfilled by the most exquisite kiss of life.