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<eyebeam><blast> questions

     what is this egoism that allows me to believe that I should
     occupy the niche of artist - is it so arbitrary? from where
     come the humours that push me to take exception for
     myself amongst all the others? 

     Why do I feel I have the right to think? What is there
     about this place where I live that conspires to bring such
     common doubt into my thoughts? Should it be that I must
     seek to gain approval? What is this world to me and can I
     never cease to be a part of it? So I want to stay can I
     change it like the slogans on the wall of the school clinic?
     like they inspire renewal? would I be immune?

     I feel so young right now and my words are steeped in
     some sort of history entirely of my making. 
     am I speaking to some kind of god or just talking to
     myself and then what am I doing? In the past I never
     made distinction between the roles, as one is the same
     kind of worship as the other, a matter of perspective.
     I feel like I am glossing over many truths of which I
     already have some understanding in a perhaps misguided
     attempt to flesh them out or to test them. The truth of unity
     in which everything is part of each other and the truth of
     rhythm which always pulses and remains calm despite the
     storm, the truth of questioning and also the truth of faith in
     the answer. For the answer and the question are a part of
     the same game and cannot ever be kept apart through the
     trial.  The truth that is not out there.

     bye ++
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