no substitute for hard work

We have learnt to survive the real by cutting off from it and replacing it with something more palatable but less engaging. This allows us to get along nicely but ultimately leads to depression and unfulfilment because the spirit atrophies.

we are conspirators, with our hands on the cold urn

A real non-conformist refuses to conform to the self.

We talk to ourselves to blot out the real.

the benevolent but fraudulent adult world

Always give more than bargained for.

Our hands touch, our bodies burst into fire. The chair, the cup, the table—nothing remains unlit. All quivers, all kindles, all burns clear.

We've all been given a modicum of talent – a destiny – so go ahead and develop it otherwise there'll be hell to pay.

The choice we have, but which we don't realise we have, is to be either in the body feeling or in the mind thinking. Can't be both.

Old Norse mjūkr soft, mild, meek

Jesus wasn't preaching to the likes of me and thee. We bourgeoisie are the pharisee. Our only recourse: pray to be brought low.

the small, invisible, quotidian growth of the day-to-day, where outwardly nothing happens

Practice repeats the same to generate difference. True difference can never be manufactured or planned or designed – that would be artificial, fake (as well as a contradiction) – it must be the product of an ongoing natural process. It is the probable result of deeper context always being incomprehensible and incommensurable.

Shoulder width. Any wider is double-weighted.

Trance is attained through sustained rhythmic repetition. Energy builds up until it ruptures the skin of appearance and allows the real to flood in/out, changing, for a while, (forever), everything.

Practice is more of the same. Until it becomes different.