(no subject)
21 FEBRUARY 2006, TUESDAY (PUBLICK)
Another season buffets the heart. Grey sky-breaks impede on the eternal sunshine. Every place is a hell on earth for some, a paradise to others. Rain occasionally falls from the sky cleansing the street, purifying my soul. One can argue that all is maya - but this does not ease the physical burden of life. The Joys, or the terrors. I have many times found myself on a dusty, rut-filled road, weeds beaten down by the passing of people and vehicles. Equipment hanging off me like vines from an aging brick building. And thought to myself, "Ah, I am here again". How familiar. How comforting the feeling. And in someways repetitive and annoying. When weighed against each other, the familiar and comforting seem to always outweight the temporary discomfort. The road can be a home to some. Others dread motion. No one is right or wrong. All make a stand in what thier senses tell them is IT. And that evolving foundation that is the IT, or true will, is what all sentinent beings yearn for...
Another season buffets the heart. Grey sky-breaks impede on the eternal sunshine. Every place is a hell on earth for some, a paradise to others. Rain occasionally falls from the sky cleansing the street, purifying my soul. One can argue that all is maya - but this does not ease the physical burden of life. The Joys, or the terrors. I have many times found myself on a dusty, rut-filled road, weeds beaten down by the passing of people and vehicles. Equipment hanging off me like vines from an aging brick building. And thought to myself, "Ah, I am here again". How familiar. How comforting the feeling. And in someways repetitive and annoying. When weighed against each other, the familiar and comforting seem to always outweight the temporary discomfort. The road can be a home to some. Others dread motion. No one is right or wrong. All make a stand in what thier senses tell them is IT. And that evolving foundation that is the IT, or true will, is what all sentinent beings yearn for...