If I wanted to get rich quick in the employ of spiritual adventure, I think I would specialize in telling you (in oh-so-subtle or oh-so-gross ways) that you were wrong -- that the delicate and raging fires of hell were positively licking their chops in anticipation of your deluded, flummoxed, impure and otherwise fucked-up arrival.
Yessireebob! You screwed the pooch! That'll be $50, please.
Instead, I am just an old fart living on a fixed and constricting income. No way I am going to get rich. But along the way, I'll just have to be stuck with my own emphatic farm:
No two ways about it.
Always were and always will be.
I apologize if that scares you shitless, but there really is no escape.
Read 'em and weep.