I figure it's time to prepare for my hoped-for veneration, exaltation, and worship as an enlightened godly being.
True, I don't believe in enlightenment or in God.
But why should this stop me from being worshipped? I founded this here Church of the Churchless. I preach about stuff all the time. I'm venerated in my own mind. Maybe the exaltation I feel toward myself will spread someday.
So in case someone ever builds a shrine to me, here's photos of the meditation chamber where my perfection becomes more perfect every morning.
I hereby give permission for it to be recreated in any artistic medium desired, including gold and other precious metals, so long as a large royalty check is delivered to me monthly.
My not-so-sacred Meditation Chamber was hewed out of a (usually) unused shower in a part of our house that was designed by the previous owner for an invalid mother-in-law who never lived there. I have to move my stuff out when someone comes to visit, as my daughter and granddaughter did this week.
I cover up the shower nozzle with a curtain. I like the metaphor: how my already pure/pristine consciousness is becoming cleansed of even the most minute imperfections through my meditative surroundings. Details follow...
Today I learned that redshirt freshman Marcus Mariota's wait to be quarterback of the Oregon Ducks football team is over. When they beat USC in November and then win a national championship next year I will not only be even more divine, but also really happy.
The photograph of an evergreen tree growing among golden aspens is a symbol of something or other. I could tell you, but you wouldn't understand, so figure it out yourself.
I am a habitual highlighter and scribbler of profound thoughts in margins and bland end pages. These are my weapons. You can see my backups on the lower shelf. If an evil genius ever corners the market on highlighters, my unending spiritual evolution will be stalled, but not ended, for my upward (or downward?) progress is unstoppable.
Lastly, we see here the true keys to my exalted state of being: coffee and books. Caffeine and the printed non-fiction page serve as booster rockets which propel my unsoul into profound regions of reality during my 20 minutes of so of perfected meditation each morning.
(Methamphetamine probably would work even better than coffee, but I also love naps, so have to strike a balance between a heightened and lowered consciousness.)
So...behold! My not-so-sacred Meditation Chamber.
Feel free to print copies of these photos and venerate them as you see fit. Or re-create my space in your own shower. I recommend an unused one, but each to his/her own.