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Your darkness is not the enemy. It is the rich soil you must dig into and sometimes be planted in before something new can break through the surface; and those parts of you that seem wounded or lacking don’t need to be healed or improved, per say, but rather loved and accepted. ↗
There’s a reason why one master teacher said, “Love your enemies.” He wasn’t preaching some touchy-feely mumbo jumbo. He was talking about a cosmic law. He knew there was only One of us here. That means that anything you withhold from another you’re withholding from yourself. But it also means that anything you give to another, you’re giving to yourself. ↗
All beings so far have created something beyond themselves; and do you want to be the ebb of this great flood and even go back to the beasts rather than overcome man? What is the ape to man? A laughingstock or a painful embarrassment. And man shall be just that for the overman: a laughingstock or a painful embarrassment… (…) Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman—a rope over an abyss… What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not an end: what can be loved in man is that he is an overture and a going under… ↗
He said, it's rather like your voice. You put up with your voice and speak with it because you haven't any choice. But it's what you say that counts. It's what distinguishes all great art from the other kind. ↗
Blair instantly took the lead, showing his experience of being able to duck out of the limelight. He passed the huge oven and looked back to see if Shawn was keeping up with him; he turned back around and then picked up speed as he entered a darkened corridor. A loud crash and two heavy screams stopped Shawn in his tracks and caused Mr. Bernstein to run up his back. Time slowed as Mortie started to walk around a flash-frozen Shawn; in the darkness, a confused Blair was knocked senseless on his fanny by a person that was putting some garbage in the dumpster in the alley behind the store. Shawn extended his right arm into Bernstein’s chest so he could get a clear look. Blair rubbed his head and said, “Are you all right, buddy?” sure that the person he collided with was a man. He slowly got to his feet and then extended a hand to the fallen bagel worker. Shawn focused all of his energy on the pick up; their two forms were still sunken in the shadows but Shawn could feel a huge swirl of energy start to mount. Blair knew the moment their hands clasped that the soft, long fingers were not that of a dude. As Blair brought the woman to her feet, the subsequent explosion generated by a 12-bagger hurled a startled Shawn back toward the front door. ↗
No, we love war. War. Starvation. Plague. They fast-track us to enlightenment. “It's the mark of a very, very young soul,” Mr. Whittier used to say, “to try and fix the world. To try and save anyone from their ration of misery.” We have always loved war. We are born knowing that war is why we're here. And we love disease. Cancer. We love earthquakes. In this amusement-park fun house we call the planet earth, Mr. Whittier says we adore forest fires. Oil spills. Serial killers. ↗
#plague #starvation #war #love
Andy: But they gave us an out in the Land of Oz. They made us write. They didn't make us write particularly well. And they didn't always give us important things to write about. But they did make us sit down, and organize our thoughts, and convey those thoughts on paper as clearly as we could to another person. Thank God for that. That saved us. Or at least it saved me. So I have to keep writing letters. If I can't write them to you, I have to write them to someone else. I don't think I could ever stop writing completely. ↗
