And blood-black nothingness began to spin
A system of cells interlinked within
Cells interlinked within cells interlinked
Within one stem. And dreadfully distinct
Against the dark, a tall white fountain played.
Night is a great time for drifters. It’s friends with serenity that is so hard to come by during the day. Just do fucking nothing and enjoy the moment.
Sitting alone, resting alone,
going forth alone, without laziness;
he who understands deeply
the roots of suffering
enjoys great peace,
while dwelling in solitude.
Power, feelings and knowledge – these are the fundamental illusions a man can live to make his time worthwhile.
Nothing nothing nothing and then Everything you know twists like a spiral. Things connect. Sometimes it makes sense, sometimes it doesn’t. The spiral never untwists completely. Not after the peek, not after a year. A Gateway opens and you can(?) choose to listen from then on.
As we get older we lose touch with our earliest memories and very first sensations that had been so fundamental in shaping what has become of us. We’re forced to neglect it, indirectly, due to flood of information, responsibilities, falling victims to our inner drive to experience more.
Reflect on that idea instead of the usual newspaper or whatever noisemaker that goes down with the morning coffee and maybe you will get a glimpse of that state of mind of a youngster. Irresponsible, creative and unaware. With a sharp mind and free of these troubles.
We’re so dependent on cycles of life, it amazes me. It’s Thursday evening but it feels like weekend already. My receptors can sense the incoming alone time and their excitation levels are through the roof. I wish I had more control over it. I wish I could make myself feel like that on Mondays. I once read that true happiness depends on the resultant quality of ones’ thoughts as it is what we are left with at the end of the day. The rest is just a cover up. Sounds about right to me.