The Native Americans believe that the Great Spirit is in all things and if you are pure you can listen to him in the winds.
A few days ago, my laptop was stolen from my room - a tragedy I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I had a week to reflect on my new found loneliness and my future course of action. Then it struck me, what do people see when they visit their neighborhood Starbucks - quite a few people on their macs happily typing away. They seem joyous and blissfully unaware of the world, like they know a great big secret and now they are satisfied.
Why? Could they be the chosen people. The people to whom the great spirit reveals the fundamental truth of existence, of being one with everything else. It has to be, nothing else makes sense.
So an hour ago, I gave in to my temptation and became one of the numerous sheep who now own their very own Macbook Air. In fact I didn't even take the macbook back to my room, but my first stop was a local Starbucks. I've now unwrapped my Mac and am sitting waiting for the spirits to talk to me, but I feel nothing. Oh great spirits talk to me, tell me the secrets of life and more importantly tell me I'm not a sellout.
I feel nothing.