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Light is the exception


We are all ignorant three year olds, in a sense.

We are enveloped by darkness, but for this tiny light that shines into it.

Light is the exception

Darkness the rule.


While we are given a spark, it only carries so far.

However, it’s easy to get lost in the light,

believing there to be no darkness.

Remember this

Remember the darkness

Be happy with the light.


It might be a brighter flame now than before.

All those years,

all that experience,

adding light

(if we’ve been paying attention).

But remember the darkness.

It will always be endless,

however bright your flickering flame.


Remember the darkness

especially when approaching others.

Look from the dark

at their light.


Seeing this lonely flame

brazenly opposing eternal nothingness,

a deep compassion may take hold.

A flame approaching a fellow flame

alone in the night.


Start there

and make the fire glow brighter;

be a flint to their spark

and their spark will warm yours.

In this way,

we help grow the light,

our light.


Let’s not talk too much

about the surrounding darkness.

Though knowing of it is essential,

that is also enough.


So I guess what I’m saying is:


See from the darkness

Start from the light





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I've created freedom for myself and it turns out that's not what I want.




As the I Ching says:


The individual attains significance as

a free spirit


only

by surrounding himself with

limitations

and by

determining for himself

what his

duty

is.



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The restrictions are baffling, absolutely baffling, these restrictions the mind creates. I have no idea.

It’s more than a curtain; it’s a labyrinth of curtain after curtain after curtain. But, sometimes, suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a moment of grace befalls me and I realize that there are curtains, and for the tiniest sliver of a moment I’m able to step back, look down and follow the thread.



But then - POOF! - I’m lost again, lost again in the curtains. Distracted by their colors and motifs, I’m not even seeing the curtains for what they are, their tantalizing threads forever leading me into the labyrinth within the labyrinth. Losing myself in their elaborate woven patterns, I’m halted, transfixed by the maze within the maze, forgetting I was searching for a centre, a way out, a thread, for the false thread keeps me mesmerized and the echo of my soul beckoning me to look down (please just look down!) becomes less and less pronounced with every passing moment until, finally, I’ve even forgotten I’m lost, forgotten I’m lost.


But then…!




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