Kamisaka Sekka
All Kinds of Things, Vol. 1
(April 1903)

This week’s Prosperity dispatches arrived through the most consequential week of the series so far. The writing ranged from the self-knowledge of Stingy to the book signing revelation of Discovering, from the fragility of Damnocles to The Muse’s literal BreakPoint on an uneven Wenatchee curb, from the WrestlingAngels who populated an impossibly long afternoon of hospital logistics to the Ghostlies haunting a smoky, uncertain present. The sword of Damnocles fell this week — not as metaphor but as fact. The series has been preparing for exactly this moment for thirty-three installments.

Thank you for following along!

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Weekly Writing Summary

Stingy
“…especially when in the presence of behaviors that just irk the crap out of us.”

This Prosperity Story examines Stingy not as a character flaw but as something closer to addiction, and discovers that the generous interpretation might be the greater Prosperity.

In this Prosperity Story, I recalled how those in the finest houses seemed most likely to stiff me when I went collecting for newspaper subscriptions, while those in more ramshackle houses tended to be more generous. Stingy might be an extreme form of self-protection that, like many self-protective habits, proves self-destructive. When I smoked, I actively engaged in creating my own demise, never unaware of my personal complicity, and I suspect Stingy works much the same way. My inner knight-errant almost always turns out to be in error whenever I feel moved to slay an obvious dragon. Generous interpretations serve as a non-obvious sort of Prosperity. When I feel I can afford generous interpretations, my inner knight-errant finds far fewer dragons in need of slaying. Perhaps Stingy shows up just to remind us of the absolute importance of making those generous interpretations, especially when in the presence of behaviors that just irk the crap out of us.

Kamisaka Sekka: Plovers Flying Across a River above Snow-Laden Reeds (Fuyu no Kawa), from the series “Worlds of Things (Momoyogusa)” (1909/10)

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Discovering
“I suspect the Quantum plane recognized my presence, as did I.”

This Prosperity Story discovers Prosperity expanding rather than static — and finds, at a book signing table where I sold no books, the long-sought felt sense of being a skillful author.

In this Prosperity Story, I re-re-re-re-read my recently published Cluelessness in preparation for a book signing, expecting to find near misses. Instead, I discovered that the book had been incredibly well-written. All self-promotion and humility aside, this book I held was damned good! I felt myself swelling with an unfamiliar emotion. Could that be pride? I sensed the presence of a virtual tweed jacket with leather elbow patches — one of the earliest images I’d held for what it must feel like to be a successful author. Whatever practice had led me to it, it wasn’t deserved or even earned. It felt bestowed. I sat at that signing table for three hours without selling a single book. A few stopped to inquire whether I was the author. They entered the bookstore looking for Waldo, as usual, and found a successful author there, reading his own work, and feeling prosperous beyond all reason. I suspect the Quantum plane recognized my presence, as did I.

Kamisaka Sekka: Fishing Village, from the series “A World of Things (Momoyogusa)” (1909/10)

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Damnocles
“Most of them must be lost in use.”

This Prosperity Story names the sword that hangs over every Prosperity — Damnocles — and finds it in the orange glow of mid-July wildfire smoke and the clear Douglas Fir of the front porch deck.

In this Prosperity Story, I argued for a certain reverence in the presence of each and every Prosperity, for their presence will likely prove fragile. Burn woodland covered in many-centuries-old forest, and you’re left with a ghost. No one now alive will see that parcel recovered. Neither will their grandchildren. I feel justifiably proud of my clear Doug Fir front porch deck, but clear Doug Fir isn’t common anymore. Those Douglas Firs that became my front porch were alive when Lewis and Clark wandered through here two hundred and twenty years ago. Forests take centuries to grow and minutes to erase. Prosperities seem equally fragile. Prosperity is a present sense rather than any future certainty. However I might be blessed, my family will be forced and blessed to discover their own blessings. Prosperities aren’t inheritable like wealth. They exist only within and for a specific space and time. Most of them must be lost in use.

Kamisaka Sekka: Samurai (1920s)

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BreakPoint
“…might some surprising Prosperity settle in for the duration of even this?”

This Prosperity Story arrives as the series’ most consequential installment — The Muse stumbled exiting a bus in Wenatchee and broke both ankles, upending every expected trajectory and ushering in a wholesale reconfiguration of Prosperity.

In this Prosperity Story, The Muse quite literally stumbled into a BreakPoint. Exiting a bus after a Port Commissioner gathering, she stepped on the margin between walk and curb and went down hard. X-rays disclosed that she’d broken both ankles. The Villa is hardly ADA compliant, with stairways blocking every entrance and bedrooms at the top of a grand staircase unnavigable by wheelchair. A wheelchair or walker will be The Muse’s constant companion at least until those ankles stabilize — six weeks or so. Full recovery might take six months. I suppose that I will reassume my historical role as Emotional Support Animal, as I did four years ago when Amy was diagnosed with throat cancer. Will my empathy fail me under this duress, or might some surprising Prosperity settle in for the duration of even this?

Kamisaka Sekka: Noh Scene: Hagoromo (1920s-30s)

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WrestlingAngels
“…an inevitable side effect of switching out former Prosperities for some cranky new fresh ones, of WrestlingAngels.”

This Prosperity Story documents the impossibly long afternoon of wrestling hospital logistics, insurance rules, and a parade of professional angels to get The Muse home — and the Soccer Mom Van that might have made it possible, but couldn’t.

In this Prosperity Story, I woke early and drove the three hours across the Hanford Reservation on a remarkably smoky morning, navigating by Dred Reckoning, uncertain what the day might hold. The hospital was staffed with professional angels, though most declined the description. The first angel tried to dissuade us from returning home for surgery, insisting that insurance companies wouldn’t agree to pay for any two-thousand-dollar ambulance ride. Rules exist designed to dissuade hospitals from releasing a patient to receive parallel treatment elsewhere. By late afternoon, after a half dozen WrestlingAngels had finished their matches and each unsurprisingly came out the winner, a fresh set of recently unwanted Prosperities had colonized The Muse and my present and near future. The tour sponsor offered his wife’s Soccer Mom Van fitted with pillows to drive The Muse home, but the angelic bureaucracy withheld permission. I took him up on an offer for a place to stay over. I left The Muse uneasily anticipating the most significant surgery she’d ever faced. A red half moon hovered over the scene as I drove to our benefactor’s place in the gathering smoky twilight.

Kamisaka Sekka: Lion dancer (1920s)

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Ghostlies
“…after a period of swirling smoke obscuring past along with potential.”

This Prosperity Story finds The Muse and the series itself haunted by Ghostlies — the swirling smoke of unresolvable presents and futures that inhabit the space between lost Prosperities and their eventual replacements.

In this Prosperity Story, Wenatchee turned out to provide the perfect backdrop for The Muse’s fell swoop and resulting Prosperity transformation — ungodly hot, encircled by fires, obscured by smoke, the surrounding mountains fading in and out of visual presence. Our imaginations were encumbered by all we had experienced before. No previous experience helps very much when encountering innocence again. It’s back to Go without collecting the accustomed two hundred dollars. Replacement Prosperities do not simply fly off some idle inventory shelf. They emerge. We are not without resources, not the least of which resulted from our lifetimes of coping. We’ve lost Prosperities before, both gratefully and begrudgingly, and seem fully capable of fooling ourselves into believing again that we might stumble into more than adequate replacements. No future ever adequately recovers or contains any past. Futures contain Ghostlies instead. Yet Prosperity revisits, albeit in different guises, after a period of swirling smoke visually obscuring past along with potential.

Kamisaka Sekka: Longevity Dance (1910s-20s)

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Angels Forget To Harrass


This writing week provided an opportunity for me to dust off my road writing skills. I've written plenty on the road, adapting fairly seamlessly after decades of practice. I usually seek out a Starbucks because they open early enough—4:30am for the one I chose this writing week—and their new brew machines can whip me up my large china cup of decaf in seconds. They even offer free refills. I prefer to work out on whatever passes for their deck because the soundtrack proves less insistent there. This week, in Wenatchee, Washington, wildfire smoke swirled around me in warm fitful winds. I put my head down and entered my more or less usual writing unconsciousness. Once I'd finished, I tucked my MacBook into its sleeve, returned that china cup, and slipped out the side door without noticing that I'd left my knapsack beneath the table at which I'd been working.

I spent some of the day puzzling over where I must have left that bag, for it had my pills inside and the toothbrush I'd expected to be freshening up with as I hung around The Muse's hospital room waiting for lightning to strike. I even drove back to the place I was staying at noon to fetch that knapsack I'd so obviously left in my room, except it wasn't there. Later that evening, after tucking in The Muse and heading back toward my temporary digs, it faintly occurred to me that I might have left that bag beneath that table that morning. I arrived back at the Starbucks moments before it closed to find my bag waiting there intact. I considered this to be a very good sign.

Years ago, when visiting Vienna, I discovered as we checked into our hotel that I'd probably left my Indiana Jones Stetson on the overhead rack on the shuttle train from the airport. I rushed back to the station, knowing that the train had returned to the airport at least once since I'd left the hat. It pulled in just as we hit the platform, and there it was, sitting just where I'd left it over an hour before. I revere that hat as if it's magic, but only because it most likely is, or provably has been in my experience.

I can't foresee any future any better than anybody can, but I believe that such occurrences foretell good fortune, providing clear evidence that this damned universe does work right sometimes. When this universe works right, decency seems unbeatable. The Big Mean Guys, who ordinarily scoop up any mislaid treasure, never notice, and the universe remains in balance, even when it probably shouldn't, given how careless I'd been. I believe we thrive on just such beneficience, the sort that occurs without commission, as tacit acts of omission, or sheer forgetfulness. Maybe we're blessed when such devils or angels forget to harass us.

Thank you for following along!

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You can order Cluelessness from Bookshop.org, Powell’s Books, or Amazon. Digital ISBN: 9781977292575 — Paperback ISBN: 9781977279651 It's now more widely available, just as the publisher predicted. There's this Kindle link. Link To Publisher's Website Here

I employed Claude.ai, a commercial AI-powered text editor, using it to perform repetitive copy/pasting work and to create the above story summaries, prompting with: “Please briefly summarize this story in the first person while retaining the original voice.” I manually copy-edited each result.


©2026 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Prosperity, #PureSchmaltz