Only when we accept the fact that the world is never exactly as we see it through our individual lens of perception will we be able to accept ourselves or the mystery that is life itself.
Our obsession for success, recognition and supremacy in all circumstances without ever aware of the gravity of the situation and the subtle intricacies that impact the fabric of the society as a whole has made us more inhuman than humanly possible, as a result we have become more artificial, with not even an iota of LIFE throbbing within Us. Humanity as a whole has come to this juncture, wherein if we don't dare to accept and act on our vulnerabilities, our shortcomings in totality and to embrace failures in same breath as success as an integral part of life, then I fear we are creating a world of zombies!
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Our obsession for success, recognition and supremacy in all circumstances without ever aware of the gravity of the situation and the subtle intricacies that impact the fabric of the society as a whole has made us more inhuman than humanly possible, as a result we have become more artificial, with not even an iota of LIFE throbbing within Us. Humanity as a whole has come to this juncture, wherein if we don't dare to accept and act on our vulnerabilities, our shortcomings in totality and to embrace failures in same breath as success as an integral part of life, then I fear we are creating a world of zombies!
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Integrity is the recognition of the fact that you cannot fake your consciousness, just as honesty is the recognition of the fact that you cannot fake existence.
In the course of our journey leading to Consciousness, our objective should not be creating a positive character, and thus a pleasant scenario, but finding the Existence behind every scenario.
Regardless of all our pretenses, deep within, we are still unconsciously the same old cave-people.
One of the hallmarks of great men is that they never make us conscious of their presence, instead they dwelve into our unconscious state and transform into conscious being!
And perhaps there is none, no morrow anymore, for one who has waited so long for it in vain. And perhaps he has come to that stage of his instant when to live is to wander the last of the living in the depths of an instant without bounds, where the light never changes and the wrecks all look alike. Bluer scarcely than white of egg the eyes stare into the space before them, namely the fullness of the great deep and unchanging calm. But at long intervals they close, with the gentle suddenness of flesh that tightens, often without anger, and closes on itself.