The Paris agreements of 2015 to combat climate change in the world come into effect on November 4. Okay, let's do it.
A colorful bird came to my house with his inseparable, they are doubles, and, in his moment of freedom, he reminded me what love and the little cloth have to do with each other. He told me that all the resources, all the blood, all the life, are not being given to a few, they are being given to the thoughts of a few, because only in thought can they encompass them. It is impossible to take material charge of the entire volume of what has been looted. They could never touch, see, spend, enjoy or whatever, such a volume of "goods", or even read the list of them. Therefore, all this looting is only, I insist, to satisfy some thoughts."
Very crazy the matter. How a group of small thoughts seizing a few people suck up an entire planet. More or less like this: they transform a majestic amount of natural "goods" produced over millions of years (rivers, forests, seas, species, humans, minerals, air, etc.) into a few "artificial" goods and, most amazingly, into bank data.
Listen. Bank data: 0101010100001010101010101010. Zeros and ones written on computers. If they definitively ended life, or at least almost all life and us, an alien who came to report would only have to evaluate what was destroyed and contrast it with the numbers of that central computer. And scratching his little horn, he would find it hard to understand, no matter how evolved he was, what happened to change all the life of a planet for "zeros and ones" recorded on a computer. We always leave recordings. I touch stone carvings to feel the immensity of the pain of the debacle. He would "touch" recordings on discs. And he would feel the same.
Do you think that group of thoughts will suffer any consequences? Can you kill them, imprison them, "psychiatrize" them? Do we know how to do anything else with what we don't like? You can then see your own thoughts and how they swallow. How, through the emotions they manage, they swallow. And how what you swallow fattens so that another swallows it.
Have you ever thought about what your thoughts are, where they come from, what difference there is between them, which ones could be yours and which ones are not? Why do you intend what others think? Do you really think what you would like to think? Even more, do you really want to think so much? And when you really want to think, can you think about what you really want to think? Well, being free is assuming all this shit, taking responsibility for it and starting to clean with the cloth in hand until everything is bright, illuminated.
And how do you know when it is illuminated? Well, when the shit, the real shit, no longer looks like shit. And you feel free. An act of deep honesty. It is not worth hiding it. It doesn't work. It is exciting. There is no greater challenge, or game, or presence, or emotional intensity than the desire for freedom. That is the state of love. The cloth. The fucking cloth, give it, give it, is the state of love. And then to think, which is much needed. But free, with the state of love as a flag.
Because the only disease we suffer as life that we are, is not that of converting our living cells into dead cells. That is life. The real disease is converting our cells, the living and the dead, into accounting of zeros and ones.
That's what the colorful bird, the inseparable, the double, told me. And that's what I write.