Giddy and twisted, the pain of words, the suffering of understanding, shared experience, each step on shards of deep-cutting meaning... implications, imagined sense, magnification: "drop the false ego, the something of body and mind," haunting words echoing from the deep, matching sounds from months, years, decades back, teetering on the blood red edge of despair, and then plop! back on the pillow, rested, comfortable, for now, anticipating the next thing, like a kitten fascinated, curious, anxious, worried.|
It's just the pathology of the drug, "ready to die," the fear drug, the drug of divination, the Delphic dropsy, the magnification of shame, the purposeless fear, the extent of every emotion- elation, depression, masterful love and powerless punctuation. The opposite of wine, the lack of liquor, not shamelessness but every moment full of shame, awareness, not invincibility but manifest mortality. Not to forget but to know, the knowledge that comes with suffering, the suffering that comes with spiritual pourousness, open to experience, bodily meekness and the humility of the mind.
To know is to be flayed, to be whipped, not playfully, not perversely, nor maliciously, nor malevolently, nor sadistically. To be chained and beaten by life itself, the pain of being, cuts and stings of correction- a torpedo fish, Socrates- the fly that bites the lazy cow, a dozen flies, a hundred, a million flies, scorpions, ants, spiders, snakes and sewer rats.
To experience for a few hours the life of a saint, so full of life and prayer that he cries, he weeps for mankind. Pierced with a spear, the spear of complete self-awareness, the self as other, the other as self, in complete ecstatic relation.