“The ego is a hereditary disease of our consciousness. To be dillusioned by its games, is to invite feebleness, exhaustion, chaos, and sickness into one’s life. For it is an amalgamation of uncontrollable, runaway emotions, that is merely protecting itself like any creature would in the face of death. To rebuild oneself with the drought of the ego, there is a cost. A great monsoon will consume the desolate wasteland. In utter darkness, the only light will be the unrelenting crack of lightning. Unbeknownst to you, in the midst of your dying breath, you smell the fresh dews of vegetation gently gracing your senses. You awake to a grand and fertile land, only realizing that the storm has moved on to other distant lands.
You turn to look, and there you stand. This person is undoubtedly you but you have never seen this version of yourself. Or have you? As this person reveals, they have been with you the whole time, being buried alive. You begin to remember. You once dreamt of becoming something of the likes of the person who stands before you. In this moment, you wake up, and in this moment, you are truly alive.”
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