Infinity was my goal, Unbounded is the way and Unlimited is this place.
Danger is not so much all around me but all there is. Danger of becoming aware of the infinitely stupid habits that hook me to the killing game.

Please don’t think of this as life. Existence yes, but what a degrading one.

Death is not to be courted, although it seems inevitable. It is anything but, it is a trough of illusion. It may be a slow painful slide to oblivion or a gentle slope of pink and green to heaven. However death, in the guise of ‘living’, presents itself, it is the memory of desires and not a place where life can reside.

Life can be seen whilst climbing the hills and surfing the valleys or sitting by the fire or ice, but life is always full and unhindered; and whereas my dreams are infinite they are frail and hounded.

I look more to the moon’s reflection to see a more honest picture of myself. I do not imagine I am the brother of the sun.

The only thing I want to share is life; yet I am so devoid of the ability to do so, that I can’t even relate with any true love even to a slug. For when a slug challenges me for food, being the greater power, I pick it up and throw it into another field so I can kill the carrot rather than leave the slug to the killing. I’m immersed in fighting with slugs over who can eat a radish. Hardly a quality of life for as life is eternal there’s no need to compete for life. My existence is just a competition with other creatures to get the best pickings from our incessant killing, so there is no time or space to share life with others. Live is not a shared experience, and whilst I hold on to the comforts, security and material pleasures my conciousness demands there will be no end to my killing, so am in no position to criticise another for their killing more than me. However I do resent being press-ganged into agreeing to support others demands, just as those poorer than me resent my exploitation of their frailty

“My problem is not that the world with all its killing will end under a rising tide, but that my killing distracts me from sharing the feeling of eternal life with even a slug let alone another human.”

I’m not worried about the doom and gloom of global disasters (Noah has been there before), after all it could reduce the killing by reducing the human population. (Wasn’t that God’s idea in the first place).
I’m not worried that humans are trying to be God and may drown themselves or as God would have it, drown those that are unprepared or unable to save themselves.

My god is personal and the fact I kill and support others by keeping their company is my problem, not with what other people do. As life is eternal, the body wherein my consciousness lies is not important.

Castor and Pollux

Castor and Pollux, are the sons of Leda and yet the fatherhood is unsure. Jupiter had beguiled her as a swan and some say that Castor caught the mortal gene and Pollux (Polydeuces) the imortal. Others say that on the same night she slept with Tyndareus, her husband. Four children were born, that’s agreed. Daughters Clytemnestra and Helen. Some say that Castor and Clytemnestra are Tyndareus children and are mortal, whilst Helen and Pollux are Zeus’s and imortal. Given that Castor died then maybe he was Tyndareus’s son.

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This is a reminder that the evening star exists, also knighted the Death Star.

The morning star doth bring my birth but the evening star calls my mirth, or is that dearth!

You find it within you where its yours to know and upon your brow wherever you go.

This blog belies a true description of the poorly joys and the best afflictions.

What’s there to say about the unlimited. Anything said would seem to limit it by giving it some boundaries, focusing on a factor of self importance. This of course would be an illusion.

“Facts invariably distort the truth” amoun

“Structures are only necessary to support a dying feeling”

“The self is unbounded yet tethered to its consciousness”