This is not my life. This is Life. This expression of what may seem like a yoga pose, is happening inside this Life. This pose does not mean anything. Nothing means anything. Life is just Life. That’s it. It is how it is.
We can call Life beautiful, hard, easy, pleasant, or pathetic as much as we like but Life doesn’t call itself anything. It does not know how to call itself anything.
An impasto red smeared on an artist’s canvas with a palette knife doesn’t know that it is impasto red smeared on an artist’s canvas with a palette knife. Just because we call it that, it doesn’t mean it is that. Life just is. None of us are immune to her pathetic nuances. We are all in the will. Isn’t that quite liberating?
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