Seeing the things I write here can be funny. I could see how it could occasionally give the impression that I've got some things figured out but usually these things are on my mind because I'm still working through them. One of the reasons I write is to clarify and put my own thoughts to rest, and to understand my own stupidity when it arises.

It's a weird line to walk at times. I have trust in my capacities but am also very aware of my inadequacies and fallibility. Whatever I say is more like a movement of pattern, almost an activity. Corridors are unfolding in the mind's eye and I'm describing what I see. Sometimes I'm able to clear up some clutter and line things up more neatly but it's hard to say whether that will translate into action. And that's, I suppose, what I think matters.

I'm not an intellectual, not in the least. I have awe for the capabilities of mind as a force of nature and I use my own profusely but I don't see much value in collecting and exhibiting facts and trivia. Unless it's being used appropriately it seems to be more of a detriment than anything. Another seductive lure, another tool to control and inflate ourselves in relation to others.

Really, it all starts to blend together after a while. Concepts, concepts, concepts. What's the difference between any of it? Your concepts, my concepts, western concepts, eastern concepts. These concepts excite me, these ones scare me, these ones confound me. Yet whatever we think and say, the earth continues to turn, the sun continues to rise and the birds continue to sing.

I want to enjoy all of it, all of those things going on outside the concepts. The warmth of the sun, the sound of birdsong, the movement of water, the purring of cats, kisses from dogs, good slices of pizza, laughing at dumb jokes, genuine moments with strangers. I don't care about knowing a lot of things. It's all just trinkets in the end. More things to enjoy and play with, but in their proper place in the totality of my life.

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