Breathing in, breathing out. The steady pace, the silence between burning muscle and sweat; this is what I pause for. The expanding of the mind, the dissolving of the self- a little fortress washed away by an ocean I cannot see. Mind expanding, knowledge growing, thriving, articulating like a pine forest that just shot up from the empty mouth of a goddess.This is the practice. This is the breath. This is the mind, with each eye I thrive to see, trampling over my own ignorance, stomping out ego with reason. With my tears I crash and burn, mumbling nonsense before those who listen, and wisdom before empty mirrors. This is the practice, this is the breath.
Hobbits are Epicureans
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Well not exactly but close enough.
When Tolstoy writes about his aristocratic epicurean friends, a voice in my
head responds, “Let’s not disparage the E...
7 months ago
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