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I want:
- An intentional universe. Or if it turns out that I have an intentional universe, a theophany. (If you think you've had a theophany, raise your hand. Why did it stop? How do you misplace a deity?)
- Mindfulness. Better control over my own brain. A mind noisier in some places and quieter in others.
- Better understanding of people and why many of them are so screwed up.
- Cessation of wanting.
Wanting doesn't help, though. Even if you get it, then that's often as unsatisfactory as not being able to get it, if you'd expected or hoped that you would. And then you get pissed off, and then you do something harmful. And all of the wanting is based on an assignment of some goodness to a particular object-of-desire, which assumes that the thing you're after has some sort of independent existence capable of holding goodness.
It's five AM. I must be lonely. And I don't even like Matchbox Twenty.
This is me being pissy. I don't understand life. But I suspect you don't understand either, unless it happens that you do, dear reader. But most of you reading this, I don't think you do. I think the whole "I must be lonely" bit is at least the immediate cause of this entry. I'm sorry.
- An intentional universe. Or if it turns out that I have an intentional universe, a theophany. (If you think you've had a theophany, raise your hand. Why did it stop? How do you misplace a deity?)
- Mindfulness. Better control over my own brain. A mind noisier in some places and quieter in others.
- Better understanding of people and why many of them are so screwed up.
- Cessation of wanting.
Wanting doesn't help, though. Even if you get it, then that's often as unsatisfactory as not being able to get it, if you'd expected or hoped that you would. And then you get pissed off, and then you do something harmful. And all of the wanting is based on an assignment of some goodness to a particular object-of-desire, which assumes that the thing you're after has some sort of independent existence capable of holding goodness.
It's five AM. I must be lonely. And I don't even like Matchbox Twenty.
This is me being pissy. I don't understand life. But I suspect you don't understand either, unless it happens that you do, dear reader. But most of you reading this, I don't think you do. I think the whole "I must be lonely" bit is at least the immediate cause of this entry. I'm sorry.
