O My Soul

It's uncanny, your living crux a mirror of mine with chilling synchronicity, like two symmetrical halves of a crumpled life unfolding roughly ten years apart. I suspect you read the same books as me, but if not then certainly the books that inspired them, and if not still then I'm finally convinced there's some form of truth that's ironically formless, drifting paradoxically through ages of language, occasionally recaptured by a sightless eye and forced into words with as little irreverence for the perpetual reincarnation of the present as possible. It's futile, I know, but what else to do?

You strike the match... why not be utterly changed to fire? To sacrifice the shadow and the mist of a brief life you never much liked? So if you'd care to come along, we're gonna curb all our never-ending, clever complaining, as who's ever heard of a singer criticized by his song?

mewithoutYou

The world is a beautiful place, and I am no longer afraid to die.

Staring at the Floor

I'm glad that so many people are happy, but goddamnit it makes me so sad. Why can't I be one of them? Where did I go so wrong? What did I miss? Someone please help me.

Divergence

Most of the propositions and questions to be found in philosophical works are not false but nonsensical. Consequently we cannot give any answer to questions of this kind, but can only point out that they are nonsensical. Most of the propositions and questions of philosophers arise from our failure to understand the logic of our language. (They belong to the same class as the question whether the good is more or less identical than the beautiful.) And it is not surprising that the deepest problems are in fact not problems at all.

Wittgenstein

Yung-Chia Ta-Shih

One nature perfect and pervading circulates in all natures
One reality, all comprehensive, contains within itself all realities
The one Moon reflects itself wherever there is a sheet of water
And all the moons in the waters are embraced within the one moon
The Dharma body [the Absolute] of all Buddhas enters into my own being
And my own being is found in union with theirs
The Inner Light is beyond praise and blame
Like space it knows no boundaries
Yet it is even here, within us, ever retaining its serenity and fullness
It is only when you hunt for it that you lose it
You cannot take hold of it, but equally you cannot get rid of it
And while you can do neither, it goes on its own way
You remain silent and it speaks, you speak and it is dumb
The great gate of charity is wide open, with no obstacles before it.

Forget the Horror Here

Some day I'll feel better, and everything will be alright. This is future dust.