A mind is a simulation that simulates itself.
The knowledge we need, we are predisposed to seeking, intuitively.A fool does not know, what to do with importance, how to gauge importance, but they readily seek influence.The corrupt didn't find the expanse of life giving thought, because their self is their center; the stagnant find it hard to revolve.The wise do not subscribe to the fodder that feeds the herd, because they are not predisposed to being swept along in banal minutiae.
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The knowledge we need, we are predisposed to seeking, intuitively.A fool does not know, what to do with importance, how to gauge importance, but they readily seek influence.The corrupt didn't find the expanse of life giving thought, because their self is their center; the stagnant find it hard to revolve.The wise do not subscribe to the fodder that feeds the herd, because they are not predisposed to being swept along in banal minutiae.
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As survivors and procreators, we unravel stories that at their root are not dissimilar from the habitual behaviors seen in nature. But as beings who know they will die we digress into episodes and epics that are altogether dissociated from the natural world. We may isolate this awareness, distract ourselves from it, anchor our minds far from its shores, and sublimate it as a motif in our sagas. Yet at no time and in no place are we protected from being tapped on the shoulder and reminded, __ou__e going to die, you know._ However much we try to ignore it, our consciousness haunts us with this knowledge. Our heads were baptized in the font of death; they are doused with the horror of moribundity.