Originally posted May 14th, 2005
The lulling grave-like cold was luring inside, into itself; tranquility after tranquility, a forgetting that ever increased.
Misery loves company... True, common misery. But not misery that's become inner truth. Not inner truth that is miserable, living in misery itself as a truth, truth of a trespasser.
Of course, truth was out there, and life was out there too; not life in the broad (and ever-widening) sense (sense, and not meaning); life, the kind of which is vitality, life lived through and submerged into, life grasped by life, vitality in thought which loved because of feeling what it grasped. In short, the only true life: understood, loved, and living inside one's own self.
But, why? And what for? And whom for? For oneself? Oneself should've existed in the first place. And he did exist, perhaps (mayhap) a few years ago. But having a solid "oneself" isn't exactly knowing or understanding or even living - that solid "oneself" which most folks have is but a fossilising accumulation of their desires and frustrations, their inabilities of being - for one cause or another, and usually not-blaming, not-obviously-logical (logic! what they call logic! isn't it strange - trying to rely completely on that auxiliary function which still has to be fed visions and understanding, and perception of the world - without a complete perception of what they're trying to digest through logic?).
Incomplete, yes, that's what these folks are. What's the point of searching for any-notion within them? Mayhap take an imperfect (or rather, incomplete, incompleted) idea or understanding, and develop them into some-notion full?
That's too expensive... Besides, they've existed a while ago... What happened to them? They did live within, and they did live helpfully and happily...
Ah well, tea. Some warmth. Its effects have been decreasing for the Bloke, for the Bloke in focus of this story's camera. Warmth, ah yes, warmth, that warmth which the Chinese call Ji.
It was some Chinese observer... Strike-through that word, not observer, philosopher... Ah no, not philosopher! For sanity's sake, the biggest trouble with these folks is that they try to impose their thoughts constantly on someone who may make meaning of those thoughts, but what kind of an impoliteness and brute savagery that is! They're faithless... Ah. O, back to the Chinese. Would it be not wise to call that life-savant? Nay? Well, then, there was a life-savant in China who said: "Of all life's pleasures, tea is most important". 'tis true: a properly prepared tea, and a properly drunken tea lives in harmony with one's life. Ingestion... Ah, Latin. Again, a language so olde. Let's say so: drink-in. Yes, drought. Wetted drought, constant drought, it's been there ever since she... Ah, there always had to be a she, hadn't it?
And so the thoughts waned from left to right, in ever-dissolving loops... East to West, mayhap? Didn't they have to be and become? Who knows... Certainly not the already dummy-like character who's been just introduced...