I'm fat, hate crowds and can't meditate. And yet two squirrels will still chase each other up and down a tree.
To which blogblah! commented:
MC, you ARE the two squirrels.
Which is correct. I am the two squirrels. And so are you. As you read this, you are also blogblah! And you are me. And you are RJ and Celia and Sweeney and Karl Rove (yes, Karl Rove) and Amy and Amy's dog, Bella, and William Shatner and the panhandler I turned down last night and the Rolling Stones and Thomas Kinkade, Painter of Light and that guy you saw standing on the street corner talking to some invisible person standing in front of him and...
we're all the two squirrels chasing each other up and down a tree. We're all the cat sleeping on the window sill.
Because we're all the same thing. This isn't a huge philosophical concept to swallow. It makes just as much sense as the equally arbitrary declaration that we're all separate.
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