Mummy Logic

How much good can come from telling someone they are making a mistake?  And is good what we really want.  Do we want good?  Is nobility even an option among individuals that care about each other?  You can do good things for others, especially when those things are irrelevant to your own life.  But can you let someone go, can you accept their fate… without letting them go forever?  Kindness is a self sacrifice.  Letting friends and family go their separate ways, maybe for the first and last time.  Consoling loved ones when they make mistakes, pretending like neither of you saw it coming.  Are we all just stepping slowly, like mummies, too wrapped up in our own lives to see the pit of fire at the end of a path.  Is there an end of the path, or does it just keep slipping?  Is the soul too sensitive to defy the slipping…

How often have you prevented yourself from making a mistake?

If parallel lives exists, its possible you’ve said good bye under these circumstances before.  If these other lives exist, are they simply there to echo the same results like a code or a virus that forever plays out in an endless system?  Or is it a variable, dependent on small choices with bigger outcomes that can be changed by intersecting lives and circumstances.  Love can make magic where none there was! positively rubbing, fix your own life and others will be better off, purge the web with love, maybe…but that’s too ethereal a concept.

Who the fuck CAN say? Now I see the point of the old man on the hill, the one you seek for important advice in fairy tales and Asian lore, leave a bag of beans and three pennies by the door.

The blind leading the blind, then what is the point of friendship or family or anything.  Protection, consolation, companionship, devotion, denial.

If humans are this ridiculously slippery to understand, surely animals are more complicated then we give them credit for.

I wonder what quarrels or quandaries plague the cat or dog or monkey mind.  Or maybe they just better understand, no, consummate Nature, the natural, the wind and flow.

Letting each fold turn, and sing and ring and glisten, disasters and fortunes accepted not unlike unfolding nature’s verde origami.

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