Can I just talk? Listen. Everything I do is an attempt to get attention, and to win approval. Would I do anything, I wonder, without at least an imagined audience? Would anyone?
I grow reckless, wild. I think maybe you have to be desperate to practice the Dharma.
Kalu Rinpoche said "you have to want enlightenment like a drowning man wants air. "
Push has come to shove. This is shove. Here we are. We can pretend not to be here, but we can't back out.
I want more. Always want more. To really admit that the "more" isn't there -- is that death? That's Goethe's take on it. Or are the Buddhists right? Is there a luminosity and compassion concealed by the anxiety for more? A direct perception of interconnectivity, an expansion of awareness? You could read it either way. I do read it either way, every day.