Real joy means immediate expansion. If we experience pure joy, immediately our heart expands. We feel that we are flying in the divine freedom-sky. The entire length and breadth of the world becomes ours, not for us to rule over, but as an expansion of our consciousness. We become reality and vastness.
That would make it easy for Amara. Not having a choice was always easy. It was always safer. However bad things were, you kept your head down and did as you were told in order to avoid worse.The world always wanted people like her to believe those lies.You were never safe as long as you were at someone else__ whim.Amara__ eyes met Cilla__, dark and beaten and haunted.Not having a choice was the worst thing in the world.Amara pushed the knife down. Nolan didn__ stop her. And in that moment, with her enemy__ knife in her own hand, a point pressing on Cilla__ arm, Cilla__ skin familiar against hers, relief sneaked up on her and refused to let go. Because what she__ told Cilla wasn__ true. It wasn__ that she couldn__ go back to her old life; she could. If she went back, she__ hate herself, but it meant survival. It might be worth it or it might not be, and she__ never have to find out because it would never happen. She wasn__ going back.It wasn__ because of what Maart wanted, or because of what Cilla asked, or because of what Jorn said. She__ made the choice. It was hers alone. This or nothing.Blood welled up from Cilla__ arm. Amara let the knife clatter to the ground. She reached for the cut. She was almost smiling now, a desperate smile that had her lips trembling, that came with tears burning her eyes.This or nothing.
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That would make it easy for Amara. Not having a choice was always easy. It was always safer. However bad things were, you kept your head down and did as you were told in order to avoid worse.The world always wanted people like her to believe those lies.You were never safe as long as you were at someone else__ whim.Amara__ eyes met Cilla__, dark and beaten and haunted.Not having a choice was the worst thing in the world.Amara pushed the knife down. Nolan didn__ stop her. And in that moment, with her enemy__ knife in her own hand, a point pressing on Cilla__ arm, Cilla__ skin familiar against hers, relief sneaked up on her and refused to let go. Because what she__ told Cilla wasn__ true. It wasn__ that she couldn__ go back to her old life; she could. If she went back, she__ hate herself, but it meant survival. It might be worth it or it might not be, and she__ never have to find out because it would never happen. She wasn__ going back.It wasn__ because of what Maart wanted, or because of what Cilla asked, or because of what Jorn said. She__ made the choice. It was hers alone. This or nothing.Blood welled up from Cilla__ arm. Amara let the knife clatter to the ground. She reached for the cut. She was almost smiling now, a desperate smile that had her lips trembling, that came with tears burning her eyes.This or nothing.
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The degree of freedom we enjoy outwardly is a reflection of the degree of love we cultivate inwardly.
When a person dies, they cross over from the realm of freedom to the realm of slavery. Life is freedom, and dying is a gradual denial of freedom. Consciousness first weakens and then disappears. The life-processes _ respiration, the metabolism, the circulation _ continue for some time, but an irrevocable move has been made towards slavery; consciousness, the flame of freedom, has died out.The stars have disappeared from the night sky; the Milky Way has vanished; the sun has gone out; Venus, Mars and Jupiter have been extinguished; millions of leaves have died; the wind and the oceans have faded away; flowers have lost their colour and fragrance; bread has vanished; water has vanished; even the air itself, the sometimes cool, sometimes sultry air, has vanished. The universe inside a person has ceased to exist. This universe is astonishingly similar to the universe that exists outside people. It is astonishingly similar to the universes still reflected within the skulls of millions of living people. But still more astonishing is the fact that this universe had something in it that distinguished the sound of its ocean, the smell of its flowers, the rustle of its leaves, the hues of its granite and the sadness of its autumn fields both from those of every other universe that exists and ever has existed within people, and from those of the universe that exists eternally outside people. What constitutes the freedom, the soul of an individual life, is its uniqueness. The reflection of the universe in someone's consciousness is the foundation of his or her power, but life only becomes happiness, is only endowed with freedom and meaning when someone exists as a whole world that has never been repeated in all eternity. Only then can they experience the joy of freedom and kindness, finding in others what they have already found in themselves.
It is not solely or chiefly in virtue of the divine image that man effectively resembles God, but in virtue of his consciousness of being an image and the movement whereby the soul, passing in a way through itself, avails itself of the factual resemblance in order to attain to God.
Sure all life's highways at some point must end, so I plan to ride it in style and plummet in a swan dive when the pavement runs out...And hopefully leave behind artistically that which may make other roads an even better ride...
We cannot tell that we are constantly splitting into duplicate selves because our consciousness rides smoothly along only one path in the endlessly forking chains