When crashing into the Conditioned World from the Solitary Point- where one was opened to an eternal, numinous timeflow- it is possible, crashing with great speed, to carry that momentum into one’s activities, acting only on one’s truest, individual, most heartfelt sense of importance.
But as one loses momentum, one again becomes susceptible to the speed and rhythm of old social dances- people huddled under their roofs afraid of eternity, and afraid of being-caught-caring, subjecting themselves to internalized, banal rules, forgetting how free they truly are to dance to the alignment of their bodies, celestial bodies, their life energy, all life, all energy-
If I stay too much longer it will be too much like I never left.
Thinking more seriously about bourgeois social-networking businesses as a way not only to turn profit and surveil the working class, but to weaken us in some fundamental way- to increase shame, to displace and trivialize the slow-endless-process-of-becoming,
[blinding with light / noise / the circulation of the same ideas / air over and over again]
Grateful- while back where I slogged through a homeless summer, settling some business before returning to what’s become a sanctuary away from the noise- to have a place to stay without central cooling, without rugs, with one cat and windows open to cool night air carrying cricket song from near, far, further.