I’m getting more at ease with Death by the day. In a broader sense, it’s progressively easier to not get worked up over the everchanging and unpredictable nature of the world.
Swim through the world
- effortlessly -
Don't crave speed;
Maximize the glide.
With each stroke,
Sail as far as the limbs
will send one.
Don't thrash. Don't splash.
Don't gasp.
Feel the catch. Feel the pull.
Don't let short, wild motions
exhaust one.
Breathe!
Be wary of drag.
Put less effort
into propulsion,
And more into streamlining --
Shoot through the void,
without struggle.
Never lose sight of the value
of a good glide.
Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with
rage for fear I effuse unreturn'd love,
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love,
the pay is certain one way or another
(I loved a certain person ardently and my
love was not return'd,
Yet out of that I have written these songs).
People. They’re the worst. Or, possibly, technology. It’s a close runner up, at least. Of course, on some level, it’s all one shitstorm. Humans are the technological animal, and technology facilitates the making of comfort junkies who avoid deep thought at all costs. (Which is at the core of my beef.)
Original Tao: Inward Training (Nei-yeh) and the Foundations of Taoist Mysticism by Harold D. Roth
Magic: A Very Short Introduction by Owen Davies
The debt is paid,
The verdict said,
The Furies laid,
The plague is stayed,
All fortunes made;
Turn the key and bolt the door,
Sweet is death forevermore.
Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin,
Nor murdering hate, can enter in.
All is now secure and fast;
Not the gods can shake the Past;
Flies-to the adamantine door
Bolted down forevermore.
None can re-enter there, --
No thief so politic,
No Satan with a royal trick
Steal in by window, chink, or hole,
To bind or unbind, add what lacked,
Insert a leaf, or forge a name,
New-face or finish what is packed,
Alter or mend eternal Fact.
Anywhere copies are made,
but copies aren't exact,
selection will take place.
Some erroneous copies will
be more beloved than others.
Some errors will propagate.
Some errors will die out.
Thus is language,
thus is chemistry,
and thus is life.
Raise chaos:
That's the job of intelligent life,
to make nice & orderly things
so they can crack and shatter
and eventually end up pulverized
to dust --
A fine, granular dust that will blow
across the universe.
First, the bowl must be made:
Some potter must shape and glaze
and fire it with care,
Turning sandwiches into art...
and waste heat --
entropy slow and fast.
All so someone can crack or chip it
(with ease and lack of intention,)
starting it on a path to being sand
grains a world away.
There is health in thy gray wing,
Health of nature's furnishing.
Say, thou modern-winged antique,
Was thy mistress ever sick?
In each heaving of thy wing
Thou dost health and leisure bring,
Thou dost waive disease and pain
And resume new life again.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 