To determine right from wrong we must recognize that the extreme limits of both, like all things, come back around to connect in a Mobius strip. Twist it how you like it will not unknot. Infinity. Yin and yang. We live and then we die, and both are the breathing of the world. The grass is beautiful when it is dead and sun-bleached, it looks like gold spread out on the hillsides.
There is nothing so simple as truth. It is only the application of values to truth that causes the great problems of the world.
The term "weed" is a value judgement. Ask a child if those soft cadmium yellow flowers that turn into wishes are simply weeds. Ask anyone who has had dandelion wine, bottled dandy sunshine, if it were made from weeds.
You can't see me flying in my dreams but away I go, unhindered, my trajectory unknown. You can't see what I see as I fly over rooftops and river valleys. It's not like an airplane, it's like riding a horse and I wake with tears on my cheek from the speed of my travel, my hair knotted and wind-blown.
When a horse runs, his hindquarters kick back to thrust him forward, and his big belly slides back, and this pulls his lungs long and his lungs fill with air as he reaches and catches the earth with his forelegs. As he brings his hindquarters swinging forward underneath him his guts shove the air back out of his lungs. Then again comes the thrust and surge and kick and he scoops air into his lungs.
I have been on the back of a racing sorrel horse flying around a track and felt the mechanism and the muscles and the great lungs breathing; when the gait smoothes into gallop there is that moment of rythmic weightlessness and motion combined. The motion gains so much momentum and velocity it feels like it should continue forever.
It feels like flying.
But it slows as he tires, it changes rhythm and he breathes ragged, nostrils distended, swallowing air. Entropy traps all things, and we place our values on it and call it bad only because we don't want the running to end. But there still exists that memory, the dream, and dandelions plucked to be bottled before they change from sun to moon. Yin and yang.
There is nothing so simple as truth. It is only the application of values to truth that causes the great problems of the world.
The term "weed" is a value judgement. Ask a child if those soft cadmium yellow flowers that turn into wishes are simply weeds. Ask anyone who has had dandelion wine, bottled dandy sunshine, if it were made from weeds.
You can't see me flying in my dreams but away I go, unhindered, my trajectory unknown. You can't see what I see as I fly over rooftops and river valleys. It's not like an airplane, it's like riding a horse and I wake with tears on my cheek from the speed of my travel, my hair knotted and wind-blown.
When a horse runs, his hindquarters kick back to thrust him forward, and his big belly slides back, and this pulls his lungs long and his lungs fill with air as he reaches and catches the earth with his forelegs. As he brings his hindquarters swinging forward underneath him his guts shove the air back out of his lungs. Then again comes the thrust and surge and kick and he scoops air into his lungs.
I have been on the back of a racing sorrel horse flying around a track and felt the mechanism and the muscles and the great lungs breathing; when the gait smoothes into gallop there is that moment of rythmic weightlessness and motion combined. The motion gains so much momentum and velocity it feels like it should continue forever.
It feels like flying.
But it slows as he tires, it changes rhythm and he breathes ragged, nostrils distended, swallowing air. Entropy traps all things, and we place our values on it and call it bad only because we don't want the running to end. But there still exists that memory, the dream, and dandelions plucked to be bottled before they change from sun to moon. Yin and yang.
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