What are we to do today? Trapped in the spiraling maze of mechanizations and profiteering? I have no use for such an intellect, a closed loop that is unable to see its own roots and branches, expressed as the Whole. It is I, We, It is This. It is ever-present. It is the wind and the sea, it is the crab and the spider, turning the page and exiting old bodies. Within is the new. When we access that there is no question of imbalance. It knows that the chaos of the storm and the quietude of the summer day are needed, like the breath it rests at the axis of expansion and contraction. Without it there would be no world to speak of, nor speaker to conjure the depths. We are called to be magicians now, in this golden age before the dawn. The cave’s exit is narrow, yet it could never be wider. Do we see this? It is our Birth, it is The Birth. Again and again, awakening to the world, again and again, beckoned only by our Self to come into being in the light of day. This dusk is short lived, lest we be still born into the new Earth. It will not be! No, we must confront the task at hand. The more we pull away, the more the contractions shatter our hold. We will be born by the morrow, we will be born.


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