Trust that not the mind, but the process holds the meaning.
The mind, which is the thing in its infinite qualities and properties of these qualities and so on into the war between these miniscule shards of apprehension, finally apprehends the mystery of process and becomes it, thereby reproducing it in its own peculiar particular hokey pokey ways.
Wat is philosophy but the tree I asked. The tree digs not to grow tall, it grows tall to dig;
its aim is to quench its thirst for Earth, the dankest deepest truths that men fear and they receive the light of the sun in their leaves to shed it in the dark below, so that the tree can go about digging and extracting the goodly funk that it for the same mysterous reason of my writing down this image then presses upward through a sun-bound path of ripening into the fruits that it sheds for us to know that truth without realizing or daring to realize what kind of curiosity is responsible for producing it.
Gods dietary warnings about various types of tree-fruits were distractions, an implicit, contextual limit/law was underneath: don't even think trying to apprehend the tree itself. But we've come a long way.
Of course "god" was the tree, talking to us through all those mysterious seeds...
a culture is defined by the seeds it eats, the fruits it reaps. We are our own gods because we are what we eat. Sunny & crispy -
reminds me Im hungry and I have some pork and eggs... even might have some toast.
It's 3:17 AM
A thin slice of Dianas crest
I eat a date
perhaps spoil my appetite for a nightly breakfast.
Philosophy is not a thirst, but it involves the ultimate thirst.
It is itself the apprehension of the tree, namely the thing that is no thing, the void, that which is too strong to be divided into apprehension.
We know what the tree is in what we are in the strongest phase of passion; resilience.
Write a rune with love and sharpness in a tree,
or not. (that is the question)