How to Turn Your Passion into Money, Guaranteed

You cannot go wrong with this powerful method.

There was a tree on a valuable plot of land. The construction developers wanted to cut down the tree and build tall buildings. They were going to put in pools, gyms, spas, and luxury grocery stores.

It was said that if you sat under this tree for 24 hours, the fragrance would intoxicate you and you would have a vision of your true purpose in the universe.

The tree had caused many people to quit their jobs or become activists. People tended to drop out of society after sitting under the tree.

The plot of land was owned by a grandmother type woman who was also said to be a witch. She had spent decades feeding the tree smoke and incantations, blood and music. She refused to give up the tree. So the state came in to claim imminent domain, but everyone who came to sit under the tree saw they were meant to stay and protect it. So a huge camp accumulated. It became an occupation and the police had to come in and evict people.

This tree in 40 years had never borne fruit. This particular summer, however, in the midst of all this friction, it began producing a type of apple that anyone who ate one would experience pure cosmic love. It was in grandmother’s nature to give away the apples, but she also knew there was no stopping the state unless she could find a greater power to stop them.

So she sold the apples. She sold the apples to the wealthy and elite for thousands of dollars each. She sold the apples to drug companies who got right to work, synthesizing the love molecules and patenting them. The drug companies started selling expensive pill versions that were a mockery of the love effect and caused liver failure.

The original disciples of the tree were furious because they saw her selling out and working with evil investors, so they themselves bought apples and planted the seeds, but the trees grew slowly and didn’t produce any fruit.

“Perhaps in 40 years”, grandmother said. 40 years was such a long way away. We won’t know the fruit in our lifetimes and if there is no fruit in our lifetimes, then what’s the point.

At one point, a group of extremists came to cut the tree down, but they were wrestled to the ground before they could get the first saw stroke in.

In some cases, every week, grandmother would wheel out a wheelbarrow of cash and burn it in a bonfire as an offering to the tree. “To keep its spirit pure,” she would say. Fights broke out all the time. There was a line around the block. Grandmother had to hire guards because without them clubbing skulls, the masses would ravage the tree and nothing would grow. People fought bitterly to get their hands on an apple from this tree.

Sitting in her room, inside her house, she would cry because a tree that gave pure love was bitterly, hatefully fought over.

The last straw came when the news reported a man had killed another man over a plain apple, because it had been claimed that that apple was from grandmother’s tree. So she came outside one day to publicly cut the tree down herself. But the greedy masses pulled her away from the tree, some protecting her, some attacking her.

In the melee, she was trampled. And when everyone cleared, they found her dead on the ground. Immediately, a huge legal battle went into effect as everyone staked their claim to the tree. The disciples did what they could to surround and protect the tree. But they were no match for the riot police. The state seized the property and started selling apples at enormous sums.

But these apples were bitter and made people sick indefinitely. So lawsuits followed the state. Finally, wanting to rid itself of this burden, the state cut down the tree and put the land up for sale again, but no one wanted to buy it thinking it might be cursed now. So a little plot of land with the stump of the tree became simply a Memorial to anyone whose heart was broken. Mourners and lovers alike came to remember the death of love.

It was even said that those to whom love was truly dead could go there and bury the dead of their love and thereby find a little value in life again. But not a dollar was ever made off that property again.