In an attempt at reifying the sublime

Absence is the presence of disconnection; presence is the absence of disconnection.

And disconnection is mighty loud. Existentially marooned, it takes home in thoughts, words, concepts, ideologies, plans, goals, action. Underpinned by a separation from the divine in whose connection context for existence is found, it can’t let you slow down or silence the mind. In lieu of the life force that originated through the soul and runs a quiet stream of creativity throughout the human collective, we’re forced to create mental islands to protect us from drowning, and we must keep toiling because the natural flow of that life force erodes away all that we’ve built up; it honours no separation.

We can never stop because disconnection is existential death. We must never touch the floor. We must never know ourselves.

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