Now is a timeless state—no past, no future. It’s where time dies.
Sometimes joy displays itself in a burst of riotous theatricality. As, for example, in the gravity-defying hop of a “kinder” goat.
I made a mistake the other day. I rushed an action. Then, mistake number two: I failed to arrest myself, to investigate the incident. Oh, what a hallelujah moment to finally get down to business, to see all of my sourness flood the exits, to watch ego convulse like a speared eel.
Freedom is freedom from something. It is a subtraction. The less of us there is, the freer we are. As men, our goal is to become nobody in particular.
Freedom cuts across the cultural grain. In the West, solutions are typically proposed in terms of more, not less.
“Be nothing. Know nothing. Have nothing. This is the only happiness worth having.”
Statements like this stun the mind. We are like the bird that flies into a window.
It sometimes happens that men who are awakening will tell me, “I don’t know who I am any more.” It is like the moment in a funeral service when I find myself crying.