We’ve weighed anchor on the inner journey when we start to shed our dependencies. Pinned as we are between fear and craving, there’s no shortage. The last of these vampiric entities to be pared away are the ones masquerading as virtues. Loyalty, for example.
If I’m trapped in the mind, I’m a rolling insufficiency. I want something.
We are confined, defined and encrusted by memory.
The more memories we have, the more conditioned, patterned and habitual we are. Yes, we need a few memories to provide us with a basic identity, but beyond that slight necessity accumulated memory serves no purpose.
Many of us are so weighted with memory, so neurally grooved, that we have become flesh-bots. Our next spontaneous act will be our first.
The more memory as man has, the more resentful and unforgiving he is.
What we do not remember, we will not repeat.
Men maintain a stable of ideas about themselves: ‘I am this,’ ‘I am that.’ These ideas are confinements. They do not facilitate our development; they prevent it. They keep us from ourselves.
The ego is who I think I am.
Who am I? Nobody in particular.
What we want runs away from us. What we don’t want runs toward us.