In the twilight of fading grief, the reductive pimp of nihilism will once again appear, smiling from the doorway like an old firiend who knows the power of negation and spiritual narcissism, the greatest trap of all. Hooked on pain, on the terror of impermanence, on nothingness, hooked on the demolition of loss. And when the opening into a greater truth doesn’t hold and old habits rush forward to reclaim their suffocating space, the mind, or my mind, at any rate, continually reaches out for more information, more adventure, more identification.
