Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness.
Intention involves such a small fragment of our consciousness and of our mind and of our life.
There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting.
People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they’re not on your road doesn’t mean they’ve gotten lost.
Urban herding and its concomitant technologies are not the proper way to partake of this planet’s hospitality. (Actually, there are countless ways to live upon this tremorous sphere in mirth and good health, and probably only one way - the industrialized, urbanized, herding way - to live here stupidly. And man has hit upon that one wrong way.)