Suicide no. 66: The Ghosts of Reason
(Taken from: HERE)
–by Derek Alan Wilkinson
Boats without anchors typically wind up someplace else. The common rule is to call something home—if only for a moment—before the tide in any argument shifts. Never mind the fact hat most of us (with my failure to exclude stereotyping, inclusive) fail to realize just how much the limbic system pilots our many crashes; we may as well be walking only halfway to some destination make-believe.
Forgive any part of me that sounds judgemental, or…no, better yet: judge me for doing so. Pot and kettle and such.
Walking a country mile on the west side slums, on any given day, will teach you that, often, possessing more means having less. If you’re not making progress, perhaps you’re gaining another kind of ground—one that can’t be bought. I say that like it means something, but let’s…
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