Ran Prieurhttp://ranprieur.com/#9a417fe513f58988c3b5b1e84cfc57397194a79b2017-04-03T15:50:55ZRan Prieurhttp://ranprieur.com/ranprieur@gmail.comApril 3.http://ranprieur.com/#8abe5113dd64ffb68322ac71fdb3c8c101a53bad2017-04-03T15:50:55Z
April 3. Another angle on Friday's subject: For me, the world inside my head is pillows, and the world outside my head is knives. Or, the inner world is rainbows and the outer world is shit (mainly human society). We all want a tangible, persistent outer world rainbow, but that's not how it works.
Beauty in the outer world is subtle and obscure. The divine manifests every day as a weed in the cracks, crushed by people who imagine the divine coming with trumpets in the sky. The most beautiful sound I've ever heard was a cacophonous flock of tiny birds in dead winter.
It's hard to even talk about this in English. How would someone say it who had experienced the unity of inside and outside? Something like: Inner light and outer light are two halves that come together with suspension of the self. And Utopia is not a perfectly luminous outer world, but a world that fits.
I wonder how many people can't even find any inner light, and what happened to them that snuffed it. And I wonder if this is related to drug preference: alcohol turns inner shit into rainbows, cannabis turns outer shit into rainbows, and some drugs do both. My favorite line about drugs is from the Tao Te Ching, 52.3: "Use the bright light but return to the dim light."]]>