Factual men are quiet, kind, humble. Opinionated men are the opposite of that.
Of the outer world, that of form and flags, we know a lot. Of the inner world, that of emptiness and silence, we know a little. We go where our interest takes us.
It appears that there are two classes of refugee: White ones. Everyone else.
Me and mine. Seems like a benign concept until we dig into it, exposing the cloaked inherencies of me-ness and mine-ness. If all conflict derives from selfishness, we may have found the source.
When I like/dislike the world, I split myself like a fish gutted. After all, I am the world. We see how riven, roiled and tribalized we are while simultaneously not seeing that it’s a projection of binary mind, of like/dislike until the curtain falls.