I’m afraid the novelty of the weekly jaunt to High Wycombe has worn off. The overt wealth — everywhere in your face — does my head in.
The materialism of my community especially — with which I am very loosely associated by belief, if not identity — lays heavily on my soul. I feel agitated in that neighbourhood.
Returning to my humble abode: it feels like a weight has lifted from my shoulders. All of a sudden I recall why I didn’t pursue that way of life. It’s not my cup of tea at all.
What I most valued in this path in the early days: the humility and modesty inherent in the way. You still see it amongst the old folk.
Occasionally, your path will cross with a real gem, who really gets it. I think I have been fortunate to meet a few of these. Usually they’re humble folk doing menial work, serving the people. If I had the choice, I’d spend my time with these.
As for this bombastic pursuit of glitter, gold and glory; that doesn’t appeal to me at all. It’s not the path that attracted me. But each to their own.