Abraham Muñoz Bravo

And, for one reason or another, I have now come to realize that in my search for Truth, I must go through a necessary pain which –in retrospection– I could have easily avoided.

If only had I looked down, closed my ears and my mouth, this suffering would have remained superficial and insubstantial; but, whatever pain that preceded me has been exacerbated by my own inflammation of my self-awareness (my self-awareness being a direct awareness of existence itself). I have reached such a level of uncovering in this search for Truth (which, compared to the default is deeply submerged, yet, really, it still remains well above the water), that I feel miserable –I am the irritated philosopher; the sad poet.

If it were as easy as some demonstrate it to be (to overcome such a life through self-deception and sheeplike spirit), these thoughts of misery and angst would have had no place in the vessel which I occupy. So, since what I wish for is for an angel to grab me by the hand and make me do what are now my drudgeries, I guess it is up to me to embody the angel which I long for and perform the ‘magic trick’ myself… I guess I will have to let the vessel –of which I am both the master and slave– to be usurped by the angel which I need so that my own hand can put away the laziness of the man that writes this pitiful reflection.

Trochilus allogamia ante alios videre. Respice! Hoc est forum ego ostendam tibi.