Monday, January 30, 2017

And the tree is life


Symptoms exist that we might come to understand the disease. The disease says, Here I am, look at me. But instead of looking at the disease and seeking the root of its cause, we take a pill. And the pill might be anything. It might be government, philosophy, religion, or whatever is recommended by experts and seems most likely to bring some relief. They might even seem to work at first. And yet, over time, something strange takes place, and we suddenly find that the properties of our most trusted cures have either weakened, or the symptoms have changed. But it is still the same old disease, trying to speak to us, pleading for our attention. At a certain point, the disease itself grows lonely and angry and cries out, What do I have to do to make them look at me? And then it lashes out and becomes more powerful. And at the height of its power, it hates the world, it hates us, it even hates itself. In its final stages, it forms delusions of grandeur. It says, Very well, then, I alone am right, and since that’s the case, I will destroy everything. And the destruction is great, but never complete. And the destruction is another symptom. And we say, O, what pill will we take? And then a child comes along and says, Have you tried love? And the child’s wise and innocent plea is so beautiful, we are unable to resist. We try love. We surrender to love. We live love. And then, miraculously, the disease departs, and government, philosophy, religion, and all the rest, become ripe-glorious apples hanging on a tree. And the tree is life. And the taste is sweet. And we are free.



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