The zen absence of right and wrong
taken from ANARCHY OF SPIRIT: an epistle for ridiculous times, from early writings by Jack Haas: this is a rare, online book
When everything begins to go right and wrong simultaneously, and you lose the ability to tell the difference, for there is no difference, and either way you don't really give a damn, because life has flopped up and down on you so many times that, like a person on a crazy ride at the country fair, you lose the intensity, the fear, and the joy of the event, and instead sink carelessly back into yourself; when you have become psychologically gimballed, unable to lose your sense of equilibrium, you can bet you're almost finished.
When pain is no longer painful, joy no longer a thrill, life no longer a teeter-totter between estranged opposites, then the leveling-off is well under way. That is when you become dangerous and necessary to the world, because you are outside of its struggles; you become a random particle, divorced from the chains and rules of life, and so you are both needed and distrusted, admired and despised, and praised and blamed, because other's troubles are no longer your troubles, their taboos no longer your taboos, their sorrows are no longer painful, and their euphorias mere bagatelles. You are beyond their sufferings, trifles, and desires, and therefore all powerful and yet powerless amongst them.
The day I decided it was time to leave hell, is the day the doors began unlocking ...of their own accord. For there is only one way out of hell, and that is the wish to leave it, and that is all. As you will it to be, so shall it be. But if you don't have that wish in you, nor the wherewithal to fulfill its demands, you are dead and at best tortured. The flowers and birds will not come marching to your door and ask you to come out and play. You must yourself break open internally, and walk out of your life bawling. Bawling for the injustice, for the agony, for the horrors of the day. You yourself must go to the flowers. It is up to you.
If right and wrong invade your being you are done for. You might as well pack it in, and beg for forgiveness while there's still time. Because time will end, let me tell you. You're no help further in the darkness. Only light can help us here. And for that the wax must melt beneath the flame.
Early writings by Jack Haas: a rare, online book.