There was once a man who loved only what is constant. He conserved the past as a levy against the future. Yet all about him the regular wisdom declared that change is the only constant. One day he became so tired of the notion that change is the only constant that he became a tyrant and declared himself King Change The Only Constant so that nothing would change as long as he ruled. But soon there grew an unrest among those he ruled over and they began to use new words. New words for ‘change’ and new words for ‘constant’. Gradually their revolution grew to overthrow King Change The Only Constant because they new in their heart of hearts, beyond all power and language, that change was the only constant, and that it belonged to no one.

Some pray to their gods to enter them or for their gods to banish their demons, but does anyone themselves command the demons to leave them?
Does anyone ever forgo the divine intercessor and directly smite the demons within them using the righteous indignation which is their own?
We always think that because we are flawed something better must enter from outside and help us but what if that something better is us and all we have to do is banish what ails us from within.
We are from earth. We are made of both the sacred and profane. The era of summoning the holy on our behalf is coming to a close. It is time to realize that we are the holy and that we have the power of the banishment ritual within us.

Carpe Noctem

No one can free you but yourself. That is how freedom is defined. The only person who can die for your freedom is yourself. If you owe any other your freedom, it is only the idea of it you have gained. Freedoms are won by using them and lost by neglecting them. Freedom is no longer fearing death. Those who take the lives of others are asserting nothing more than their own slavery.

I can already see the Prana making canyons in the Karma and the wild bushes of hopes and shrubs of dreams growing idly by its steep banks of wonder. In a hundred years the saplings will tower and still remember the sound of your voice. In a thousand the river will calm to a trickle and babble the stories you told to the best of their memory and the glimmer on its surface will sparkle its finest to imitate the diamonds you have for eyes.