Be a little man, like a squirrel.

Be a little man, like a squirrel.

The root of all evil is fear.
Repeat: the root of all evil is fear.

Fear is the imaginary monster that one has to tame if he wants to lead himself and not be led.

I see most people occupied with fear and hate.
They don’t stop for a minute to look at themselves, to see what they have become.

One might have good reasons to hate.
But at the root of the hate, there is fear.

One cannot repair the past.
But one has to live the present with all the memory of the past, not living in the memory of the past but with it.
This is a crucial distinction.

One is not living the present if he is not present to the present.
One is not himself if he lets his dead self from the past or from a story he identifies with take over.

Most people identify with what they are told they are.
They do not try to look at the other as being he, himself.
They look at him as an opponent, an enemy, an antagonist.
Or as a tool, an ally, a pal, a piece in the war they are tacitly waging against all who are not like them.

The world is a stage for hate.
It ranges from little silent hate to the great roars of war, bombs, and destruction.

The infernal news cycle keeps us occupied and paralyzed in the project.
We cannot advance. We cannot do something meaningful with our world.
We are too busy consuming news cycle illusions: pro and contra, good and bad ideologies.
We have no time to think. No time to organize. No time to do something meaningful.

Those abs will not pop up by themselves just because you are looking at the running mat.
This world will not change for the better just because you are watching it fall apart on your computer screen.

It takes much for one to change.
Or actually, it takes nothing.

Trying hard is always a recipe for disaster.
The best action is when you move, but your soul stands still.

Little man, little man, little white man, white man little man.
Napoleon Bonaparte was a little man. He liked to be depicted in white clothes, a white French bonhomme.
He might have known fear. He might have known his own human limits.
But what a formidable squirrel, always moving, always doing, inventing, writing, fighting, strategizing, dreaming, visualizing.
What a man. A little man.

So be it.

We are all little men.
And nothing is stopping us from being more than a little man but our own illusions.