Member-only story
It Is What Makes Us …
On love, attachment, and evil
The desire to have the object of one’s desire all to oneself at the expense of the object’s essence is evil. It is not love at all.
It is what makes us
… cage the bird that sings such a pleasant tune that we want to hear it day and night, and so we imprison it. We give it food at noontime, and water at night, and we reaffirm our benevolence as we cast ‘loving’ glances its way while it pecks away at the crumbs left behind from the spoils of our vile ego.
Through the same bars that separate us and the bird, the bird stares back at us — half blinded by the vertical slits that separate it from endless skies, a different view of the world, and all its heart desires and in its fallen state, the bird begins to sing — a song of sorrow that to our vain sensibilities is pleasurable because we have not for once cared to hear the bird’s voice to know, what to it is pleasure or pain.
It is what makes us
… catch a butterfly in a field, hold it in the cup of our palms, and put it in a jar on the mantelpiece failing to acknowledge the truth that butterflies were never meant to…
