I have many emotions dripping from me like Salvador Dali's elements, and I feel like they are about to burst forth and I can't hold them in. And what do I do? I choose a canvas that is fleeting enough so that I can instantly forget why I exploded in the first place. And my canvas is called laughter. By laughter, I am an artist.
I don't need any other savior. I need to save myself. I am the one who chooses the doors I enter. For those destined for Hell, should it be said that God did not save them? Or was it that they did not save themselves?
Being is letting. Listening to your being is letting your being. Be counseled by your being, be comforted by your being. Your being is older and wiser than your mind, a new construction, a storage of conclusions from its own context. Your being is timeless. Listen. I Am.
Whenever we say, "God, look at that couple --- he's too handsome for her", we are not just filtering by looks as applied to other people, but once the filter is on, we look through them even as we look at ourselves.
Zoom out and you can see how we have come to a point in our history where we have been trapped in a particular set of options, usually between two evils, and we wrack our brains thinking a lesser evil exists.