The substance of antiseptic does not sway the birth of disease, a schism in consciousness, detracted from its womb, we create an identity, a story to investigate the murder of our arrival. The wounded healer knows not the surgical precision to extricate the tumor, its metastasis is precisely self-evident delusion. We are the cancer and the cure, the aberration and the miraculous constitution. What is created to be destroyed, yet the process can be obstructed, to tilt the viewing lens back upon itself, to reveal the truth behind the prism.
“Because awareness is a view of reality free from ideas and judgements, it is clearly impossible to define and write down what it reveals.”
To exist with permanent reservations, it to have never left the building.
Words inspired by Alan Watts, words in italics by Alan Watts.