: : : “Oh, The Creator of this universe reverentially,I

: :
:

‘Oh, The Creator of this universe reverentially,
I meditate upon your extreme splendour devotedly,
Do lead me from darkness to light illuminatingly,
Destroy my sins, show me the right path constantly.’
– 397 –


Munindra Misra,

Chants of Hindu Gods and Godesses in English Rhyme

I am in this same river. I can’t much help it. I admit it: I’m racist. The other night I saw a group (or maybe a pack ) or white teenagers

I am in this same river. I can’t much help it. I admit it: I’m racist. The other night I saw a group or maybe a pack or white teenagers standing in a vacant lot, clustered around a 4×4, and I crossed the street to avoid them; had they been black, I probably would have taken another street entirely. And I’m misogynistic. I admit that, too. I’m a shitty cook, and a worse house cleaner, probably in great measure because I’ve internalized the notion that these are woman’s work. Of course, I never admit that’s why I don’t do them: I always say I just don’t much enjoy those activities which is true enough; and it’s true enough also that many women don’t enjoy them either, and in any case, I’ve got better things to do, like write books and teach classes where I feel morally superior to pimps. And naturally I value money over life. Why else would I own a computer with a hard drive put together in Thailand by women dying of job-induced cancer Why else would I own shirts mad in a sweatshop in Bangladesh, and shoes put together in Mexico The truth is that, although many of my best friends are people of color as the cliche goes, and other of my best friends are women, I am part of this river: I benefit from the exploitation of others, and I do not much want to sacrifice this privilege. I am, after all, civilized, and have gained a taste for ‘comforts and elegancies’ which can be gained only through the coercion of slavery. The truth is that like most others who benefit from this deep and broad river, I would probably rather die and maybe even kill, or better, have someone kill for me than trade places with the men, women, and children who made my computer, my shirt, my shoes.


Derrick Jensen,

The Culture of Make Believe

I m not sure. But there s something about the darkness, the stillness of this hour, I think, that creates a language of its own. There s a

I m not sure. But there s something about the darkness, the stillness of this hour, I think, that creates a language of its own. There s a strange kind of freedom in the dark; a terrifying vulnerability we allow ourselves at exactly the wrong moment, tricked by the darkness into thinking it will keep our secrets. We forget that the blackness is not a blanket; we forget that the sun will soon rise. But in the moment, at least, we feel brave enough to say things we d never say in the light.


Tahereh Mafi,

Ignite Me

This was supposed to be yesterday. I was sitting on the Cardiff/London train, supposedly about to write this very column, and realising

This was supposed to be yesterday. I was sitting on the Cardiff/London train, supposedly about to write this very column, and realising something quite terrible. My head was entirely empty. A vast echoing void. Bigger on the inside, but with nothing in it. You could drop a pebble in my brain and wait for an hour to hear it land. No actually, you couldn’t – that would be aggressive and unhelpful, so keep your damn pebbles to yourself.


Steven Moffat

Whenever people are certain they understand our peculiar situation here on this planet, it is because they have accepted a religious Faith or

Whenever people are certain they understand our peculiar situation here on this planet, it is because they have accepted a religious Faith or a secular Ideology Ideologies are the modern form of Faiths and just stopped thinking.


Robert Anton Wilson