Love is… above all… a giving force. In Times of Material Darkness, people become less and less giving. It escapes the notice of those who dwell in a landscape of taking... consuming... and... devouring... on this plane of carnal desire, and appetite obsessions. Love becomes a rare bird and people wonder why they live in such a climate of emptiness. It is because they have forgotten how to give with the proper intention. Even Christmas has become a ritualized formality, where the giver expects a recognition for which the giving itself should be reward enough.
A Life filled with convenience and comfort soon turns into a wasteland devoid of humanity. It breeds pandemic violence by fostering greed… covetousness… resentment and envy. It creates an atmosphere of competition in a race to see who can acquire the most stuff. Others… many others... have noted all this, so there is no point in my going on about it. It is what it is, and it is also what I am not, so… arrivadirtnap to The Cities of The Dead. I am drawn and directed toward the plane of eternal life, which is accomplished by letting go of every shiny thing and meaningless relic that imprisons you in the tombs of matter.
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