We are mostly aware of what changes and mostly unaware of what doesn’t.
We are fascinated by bodies, mesmerized by them.
Life snaps its fingers.
The spell breaks.
Time is a thief. It robs us blind. I wasn’t born with glasses.
Life swings between pain and pleasure. Everything is orderly, stable, secure, and then it’s not. Wanting and fearing establish themselves. We remember happiness. We run after it. We remember pain. We run away from it. Beliefs, assertions, opinions and much religious activity are products of this bifurcated mind.
Babies don’t have this mind. Neither do dogs. Well, some dogs do—the ones whose leash is held by an axe-split human.
Miserable is the man who just wants to be happy. Who wants what he does not have.
Happiness is a harlot. When circumstances are favourable, we have her. When they’re not, we don’t.
Harlots are not a problem, unless impermanence is.
Wanting is the problem. Quit it.