At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
-t.s. eliot
How deeply this resonates with me, this thought of ayn sof, the infinite, the wholeness before all creation, not as some vast limitless expanse, but as a point, an infinitely tiny, still point
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Eliot leads to (or from) Zen. Those of us who still cannot grasp the moment, and realize that 'carpe diem' is dangerously too long, can carpe hora - short enough to last, but long enough to recognize and appreciate.
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