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Reflections at night when the dark is good and we see farther. A short meditation.
"A silent conjunction between what one thinks and what has been thought."



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Brief Tales on a Whim.
There is nothing more pitiful than the storyteller without his stories.



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Meditations on the 60th Anniversary of Hiroshima What would the end of the world entail? Do we boast that we can imagine such a thing?


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In the apprenticeship period hopes are high.
"But then, who will save us from our own crimes?"


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SPACE

I felt myself tumbling but strangely, not sick, not yet at any rate. I expected to run into something or fall into an infinite hole I had read about while on earth. There was no opposition, only sensation. And while it happened I became very happy with the situation and wanted to continue the voyage in this manner. But just as soon as I felt everything was good, nearly perfect, I felt that odd resistance I had felt as a young man venturing out among the people. "Look down, look through this guy and don't let him up," so the song seemed to go. It didn't bother me until I wanted to do something positive, then it was as if this opposition had the power to eradicate everything that was good in myself, everything that was struggling to get out. That's how I remembered it in the tumbling state at any rate.

I never questioned why I was alert, breathing (apparently) and thinking thoughts. I knew I was dead. That was the size of it. So this is it, this is what people fear so much! But it was so much fun I thought. Then I thought, no it is like those dreams I had when younger and under extreme pressure when I would sleep and at some point would feel myself rush out of my body and fly into space to meet up with horrendous monsters that preyed on my naivete and who scorned me rather than harm me. But now, in those instances I simply opened my eyes and I was back in bed good as new. "The mind is a terrible place," I would think to myself then think again as I woke up. "There is something sublime in the old brain," and then I would forget the event as the day caught up with me.

Then it struck me that I was not dead. That for some reason I was chosen to fly out and meet the universe on its own terms. That seemed to be a logical event to occur considering that we were exploring it.

"Yes, our mind goes where the probes go whether there are people on board or not."

Out to where the structure is sublime and darkness dominates.

We wrap our way around it in a good senseless style figuring the goal will be met.

What tensile strength as we approach some solid object! There are no creatures, only invisibilities.

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