This Town Is Cold and Dead, and I Was Nature
This Town Is Cold and Dead, and I Was Nature
Chaos or order.
Consistency or fear.
On time or late.
Something or nothing.
In between stays the space of reflection, where you have to choose.
But you don’t have to choose every time.
If you are consistent, then the danger is going too fast and missing a turn, while you never miss a turn when you are in chaos, because you never go straight, just by accident.
Order comes from chaos, and we need to reshuffle the cards of the game and start a new play.
Chaos born by order is a vitiated kind of chaos, because it is still linked by the bonds of the past.
Then you are stuck in the decisionless space, call it death or emptiness, while being and non-being cannot be separated.
I is a walking ignorant corpse, conscious only of its contour, thinking he is separated from the world.
It’s easy to believe in immediate experience while ignoring the threads that link your I to the universe.
Even if you ignore it, I is dependent on everything that is happening to him.
Not only his whole perception, which is embedded in his senses, but also his birth and whereabouts, the air he respires, the always-flowing air in his lungs, the light of the sun, the caress of a fellow being.
I depends on anything and everything in the world he is in.
Nonetheless, he thinks he is separated. This is the greatest of foolishness.
For you to be free, you have to be acting without acting, you have to decide without taking any decision, you have to be separated yet integer.
You have to be you without identifying with the I.
Trucks and sick dust, humans driving metallic monsters toward nowhere, trying to make sense of this plastic and neon hell.
A few trees here and there were a reminder of what it takes to be human, and I sensed a longing, a crying longing for nature and white fields unfinishing toward the horizon.
And I was All, and All was I, looking at the human-made devastation, a paysage of utter spiritual ignorance and ugliness.
I was All and All was I, flying through the streets of this desolate cold town.