(audio included for paid subscribers)
But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
Imagine you’re a thousand-pound blob of bed-ridden fat (unless you really are, in which case, worry less about your spirituality and more about your physicality). Your outer form only vaguely resembles your inner person. The journey to freedom is like going from a butt-ugly fat monster to a shining paragon of human potential. That paragon of potential is your authentic self, and that gelatinous mass of fat is the false self that society has turned you into. You couldn’t change because you didn’t know, but now you do, so now you can. The solution? Rise up. Stop playing their game. Stop falling into Maya’s trap. Stop stuffing your face with all her spiritual junk food and emotional cotton candy. Stop drinking her Kool-Aid.
Log In or Register to Continue
"I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones."