Let’s view our thoughts from a distance, with the non-reactive interest of a nephrologist surveying a cloudscape. What he sees is, well, what he sees. Here comes a cumulonimbus. There goes a cumulonimbus.
The First World’s darkest fantasy: A return to normal.
Love is radically inclusive, has no favourites, admits no exceptions, neither waxes nor wanes. We cannot speak of ‘true’ love because love cannot be commodified, categorized or confined. “Love everything that breathes,” said Gurdjieff.
A defence budget measures our devotion to the notion that the solution to violence is more violence. Giving us: “Death by government.” Now, a new and related term: “Death by climate change.”
The door to the heart opens on the realization that the ground of our being, the essence of who we are, is formless. All else is congealed energy. “Our bodies are like prisons,” said Einstein, “and I look forward to be free, but I don’t speculate on what will happen to me. I live here now, and my responsibility is in this world now.”