Although we are convinced we experience anxiety due to the unpredictable nature of life and the impossibility of apprehending the future, what we are often anxious about is the nettling knowledge that the world we cling to is subject to ineluctable forces of change.
Often, the greater the imperative to view the world with new sight, the more blinkered and myopic one's vision becomes. We clutch a handful of dust. Rather than revisiting and remaking the world anew, we spend our hours in desperate devotion to constructing and dwelling in a crumbling mausoleum of doomed conceptions.
Late U.S. Empire is a cult of death. The body count rises in direct proportion to the putrefying, nationalist myths we insist on holding sacrosanct. Ask me about my sense of patriotism, and you will receive only silence " because what does not exist cannot speak.
But ask me about my sense of affinity with the whole of humanity -- about the golden fire of our imagination that binds us to all things, about the cathedral of our bones that binds us to the sorrows of the earth -- only if you desire to risk having your ear bent beyond repair by my soliloquies.
Fate will favor those who maintain their dignity, retain their sense of humor, and struggle to keep alive their sense of beauty, even in ugly times. Hold to your vital center, stay in the vivid moment, if only for the sake of those you love.
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