Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds’ wings.
Life has meaning only in the struggle. Triumph or defeat is in the hands of the gods. So let us celebrate the struggle.
Those who see all creatures within themselves, and themselves in all creatures know no fear. Those who see all creatures in themselves, and themselves in all creatures know no grief. How can the multiplicity of life, delude the one who sees its unity?
People will ask me: Don’t you believe in God? No, I don’t. I believe in two things above all: Nature and Love. Nature is all-powerful. Love is how I understand the good. It might have been nice to believe in God, often defined as all-powerful and good, but combining the two like that has always posed too much of a contradiction for my poor mind to believe in.
