I am rough and refined, healthy and sick, an old man and a boy, a sage and a fool.
Every emotion carries within itself the seed of its opposite. Because it’s a being-state and not an emotion, love has no opposite. Its first quality is stillness. It does not change. Or win.
There is no problem with pleasure, none whatsoever. Until we want more of it. And then, furred and coal-eyed, there it is, a scurry of pain, of not having what we want.
Let come what comes, let go what goes.