A mind is a simulation that simulates itself.
Like the soil, mind is fertilized while it lies fallow, until a new burst of bloom ensues.
Art as Experience
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Like the soil, mind is fertilized while it lies fallow, until a new burst of bloom ensues.
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The more death, the more birth. People are entering, others are exiting. The cry of a baby, the mourning of others. When others cry, the other are laughing and making merry. The world is mingled with sadness, joy, happiness, anger, wealth, poverty, etc.
Even when in the midst of disturbance, the stillness of the mind can offer sanctuary.
To find out what one is fitted to do, and to secure an opportunity to do it, is the key to happiness.
And the sculptors will shape the soil for the writers to stretch the seedsfor the patient painters who sketch the petals they will shade in alabaster and gold. Their sweat is the rain. Maybe the jazzman will send us a rose.