A poem about crazy glimpses of alternate realities, and my desire to reach beyond my world, into something new.
Impermanence, no self, non-attachment: no, thanks.
Jews are in pain and I don't know what to do about it.
Between paternalism and passivity, solidarity and self-righteousness, the ever-process of understanding begins with an admission of irreparable ignorance.
Living in a world where people are constantly being called out for hypocrisies, do we even really know what it means to be authentic?
To so many common expectations, I say: "I would prefer not to."
Can seemingly small pleasures and appreciation of daily life foster great insight?
