sutra of compassion

ben goertzel




in all the cosmos physical mental spiritual technological virtual sociological empirical delirious tasting like chocolate moving with dense erotic meaning Through cities of plastic traffic jams deserts Heaving oceans like breath Mothers fathers Chinese restaurants Conditions of ecstasy insight and fury Ice-covered pinnacles Sour desolation Car insurance playtime vibrating madness war zone bottom line binary ternary Equations that capture the logic of motion and the order of things Through swerve of sure, bend of bay, twisting of woman, There's only one thing that's important: spark act of kindness Kind to self, others, things Thrill peace empty full balance ignore it mock it sing it embrace it Enclose its luminous reality in your thinking, sweating limbs Exude it as you eat, mate, sleep, move, talk, read, write, play, laugh, dance, type, show off, elude, fall down and get up and fall down and get up and fall down and get up again where you are there it is

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is this the way to touch -- Who knows? The dead plastic world has no room for compassion No dollar amount is assignable to love which mingles the profit and loss columns irremediably -- Perhaps even illegally (sardonic laughter by young men in business suits) Love! (ha ha) Walking down a New York street, can I wrap my arms around a stranger without being smacked in the face? No? Then what place does love have in the realm of the body?

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But a random touch could lead to a friendship, a dalliance, a romantic explosion a lifetime of wonder and bliss Is love merely statistically improbable? Life just an unlikely combination of death particles, the beautiful look on your face when I know that you want me an emergence of the perfect and eternal from the meaningless concatenation of particles in meaningless four-dimensional spacetime? Existence is an extreme condition of the nonexistent Look at me I touched your arm on the street Look at me -- strange woman it was I touched your arm on the street Look at me another human being, another cosmos, another stinking world Look at me I howl for you silently, my internal howling precisely the same as your own, as proved by the Pauli exclusion principle applied to karmic surfaces of revolution Look at me I exist, I breathe, I eat, I fuck, I run, I love, I talk, I write far too fucking much nonsense garden when I have work to be doing Look at me I'm an asshole! Look at me I'm an asshole! Look at me I'm an asshole who repeats himself three times! Look at me I'm a wonderful guy, a real sweetheart, the loveliest guy in the world Look at me I just might smack you in the face Look at me Whatchoo lookin' at muthafucka? Look at me garden of sweet nonsense teeming inside Look at me -- and forget your family friends and lovers, children grandparents job hobbies possessions addresses lives and lusts and lies Look at me, and remember, there is nothing but nothing, there is something but something isn't something, there's only you and me and you and we are not at all, Look at me, I love you, I love you, I love you, hello I love you won't you tell me your name, let me jump in your game, et cetera, et cetera Fuck you, you won't even look at me Or maybe you will, maybe I'll ask you directions to the subway and give you my phone number and you'll call me later and fuck me with madness and I'll read you my poems and we'll live together for hours or years and I'll hear all your secrets and soothe your stupid divine sadness and all because I touched your arm in the street random madness what the fuck, you know?