The shrill desperation is a keening whine... as irresistible change comes upon our portion of The World. Players are jockeying for position. They got fast horses and stinging whips. They will force The Subconscious to do their will. It's the same way they approach lumberjacking... mining... fishing... all those things that have to do with how man treats Lady Nature. The idea is to rip her treasures from her body like some kind of pathological cesarean; clear cutting... strip mining... trawl and trammel net fishing, and so forth.
There are those who stride The World like a colossus, writ large upon the canvas of their time. They are favored above the rest or, so... it... would... seem... at the moment. They do what they like with impunity, and the cost in lives is a matter of no consequence to them. They believe it is their due. God has seen to it... in his Lila... that they think like this, for The Purpose of Demonstration.
If you want to understand Life, and how it works, one good way is to see it as a field of dreams, where dreamers are as plentiful as the leaves of grass... and dreams even more so. The dreams rise and fall. They rise and fall over, and over, and over, and over again. The seeds of their karma blow in the winds and land in that soil which is conducive to them. Certain dreams grow longer in this field that is not only a meadow. Yet all of them are dreams... tales spun out of dream-stuff, that once completed... melts back into the dream stuff. It's some law of Visibledynamics that may only be a rumor in my mind.
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