Sumatra's Diary: 220410

So now that Sumatra is with me let me take you through the corridors of what. Route three-not-three, no? Today on my way back from the lake I saw the lonely faces of the, er what they call the middle-class, their routine, templatised life, their morning walks, their corporate talks, those "got to up those stocks" talks, living room crocs, dotdotdot. You know what I mean. The routine of things, that sticking to and of time, those boundary lines, those same hello's, flirting in the pantry over morning tea before the Monday morning catch-up meeting which happens after the timesheets are distributed and we begin working our mechanical hands and brains on auto-pilot fearing that one day we might die alone and poor. The feeling that I was not on that side of the fence comforted me. That bardo thing brought back of how we got to go through the hell of one thing be it greed, lust, pride to come out to the top and see the other side of the spectrum. You reach that atomic interval. But no, nuff said, they are there, I am here, everything is everywhere. And that's it no? We could be finished this very second.

Tx S, you really seem of the earth, of the sky, of the clouds, of the leaves, of the seas, of the rivers, of the oneness that is us and that one-in-all, all-in-one thing.