Fatherhood has nothing to do with the performance of some enthusiastic spermatozoa during a briefly pleasurable moment. It’s about this: Who has ultimate authority over your life? The question permits just one answer.
We return to ourselves when we come back to the present moment. When we’re unshackled from memory and anticipation.
Where the appearance of a self stands in for the Self, there is a ceaseless striving for significance.
Not to indulge in pettifoggery but I AM is ageless. In other words, never born, never died. And the body? Well, that’s another story. A bit of a blip, really. Rounded upward, it’s 100.
If I do not know who I am, I’ll be exploited by rascals.
