Real estate crisis

If the world exists for the sake of the self, as one ancient insists (Patanjali), then what to do with it?

And where are we?

Well, have to go out and take a look at least.

The property seems to be singular, neglected in a visceral way, crumbling here and there, though in an ideal setting. One can hear water running in a nearby stream and the air is clear and clean.

Must approach thoughtfully, as someone might be living inside and not wish to be disturbed.

If occupied, occupant might be armed, as the house is located in the wilds of San Francisco (or is it the Rocky Mountains where grizzly bears abound?)

Interest rates are low, true, but there's no internet access, and the closest town, Meeteetsee, Wyoming, population 351, is fifteen miles away at the end of a dirt road or a steep walk up Presidio Ave. to Pacific Heights and the branch office of Verizon.

All we can see are problems however, possible dangers which we don't have the tools to cope with, long nights of winter with hints of King Lear, loneliness until death and a phone that doesn't ring.

On the upside, solitude, silence, space, freedom--the things we can't see.

We could offer less than the place is worth and have it as an escape hatch should we at some point come to that place where we are really hungry to know what's inside. But the 'slum is inside us' as the poet said, and the self is not for sale.