Jees, I'm aging just watching the page trying to load.
And Shite to my blog. Reading that stuff is enough to make me think I might need an anti depressent and a better spell check.
Storms galore which is making life just about worth living.
Class on a Sunday in Mayapur means listening to Bhaktividypurna Maharaj. Not sure if all is well there. The only thing I really like is his reference to form and substance as apposed to spirit and matter. It's made me think of how dependent we are on form. What is life without it? Hence the death dilema. I'm certain death will have its own form because, i guess I must, risking some kind of major panick attack otherwise. But, if Krsna needs Laxmi we must need form. Maybe fear of death is merely fear of s type of formless purgatory. Fear of void, fear of life without expression.
Decided I'm entitled to expression because it's part of being alive. They honestly had me believing it was nonsense. Pooie to them. I've just as much right to think and feel as anything or one. Why have this vehicle otherwise?
SO back to form. Form being the vehicle but not to formlessness. So maybe escaping form is not the way to go. Maybe understanding its mechanics. Maybe reconciling our relationship to Maya. Maya being the servent of God. The secretary, so to speak. Seduced by the form and thus expecting substance from it. If it is merely an adjunct then what is substance, or spririt, to be more specific. Purpose? Purpose of form.
Read Wilde's Dorian Gray. Liked it but I think he could have done a little more with it. If I had the skill I could play with it the way those presumptuous but apparently succesful people have with Eyre.
Time for Apple C as the curse of the bad line is upon us.
Best sleep but I think I will come back again soon. Need to chat to the screen to help sort out psychic detritus.
God, I love a key board.
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