I’ve just come back from the East, and it’s taken this trip to awaken me to the fact that my love of obscurity is tinged with prejudice, and is therefore not pure love. This discovery came about as a result of our group studies of The Dhammapada.
Have you ever considered your bedtime pillow preferences at length?
It’s just another foolish thing I’ve spent hours pondering. Even so, I believe we’re all a little Goldilocks-like in our bedding preferences, God-willing such a choice exists. Personally, I like big and fluffy pillows, so anytime I’ve had to sleep with the pancake version, I struggled. Forgive my line of thought if it sounds confusing. I do have a point.
Our group was given several versions of the book to study, but all were slightly different; each decisively omitting details the writers felt were not needed. While we each know this isn’t newsworthy by any account, I want to point out that after this trip I no longer look at obscurity in the same light.
All I mean to say is that 423 verses (depending on the version you read), compiled as good Words of Truth, are packed in versions excluding an untold number of verses considered bad Words of Truth. It’s not a small book by any measure, but if its cover and pages were handed to me as a pillow for sleep, I would consider it a pancake.
Beneath your suit, you walk in obscurity, but I know who you are. I’d love to catch up with you soon, you without your suit, and me, without mine.
Knowing you is the only reason I can sleep at all.