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Rusty Dream
November Twenty-Sixth, Afterimage

November Twenty-Sixth, Afterimage

It's strange to remember that there are times when things don not fit into the categories of 'struggle,' 'failure' or 'success.' The taxonomical classification of one's life into those three categories excludes huge swathes of the human experience. Perhaps classifying life only serves to distract from the fundamental meaning of experiences...

On the path there may come scarce moments of relief and joy and peace.

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Language is the expression of reality. What is interesting is that this expression facilitates the creation of realities otherwise unlikely to be attained: mathematics, music, evidentiality markers, grammaticalized politeness, martial arts and so forth all allow or demand the expression of reality in different ways, and so new things are able to enter into reality–where would mathematics be without numerals, or martial arts without forms? Just as we map words to concepts in spoken language, we construct ideas to hold the sounds of music and suddenly a new realm of understanding sound has opened up.

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"All reality is language! Our senses are forms of language!" The body fades limp and eyes burn to close.

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Nonsense babbles, language scrabbles on this well-trodden road.

The mind fades, falls away, and here draws the end of the day

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