In this particular myth, earth is inside what I am and the manifested universe is unmanifested, absolute.
And there's a stand of white birch trees growing where eastern white pines stood before the fire.
Thought is a tool of being. Thinking you're the tool in this equation requires deconstruction. Every picture of
a rose tells its story of a thorn. For in every antique mirror, thought is like the mercury and being is like glass.
In a true desert, there's breathtaking silence. Not merely of sound, but of silence. Call that self-awareness.
