Ok...I'm doing something...and I picked a meme. 42% of people won't read this, approximately. Everybody is a stimulus-rsponse machine. Until they choose not to be. In this essay about how the reality of worchestershire spelled from memory is the same as...fuck I got an extra "h" in there...
But like, fuck, dude. I'm not drunk. I had two beers, as God GOADED me to do. I'm not good enough for a last temptation, cuz I have logos in regards to understanding the benefits to espirichemicalanilia, as it relates to the basic human condition.
What you say is not what's heard. You speak through the Father. It's Server, Client, Holy Internet. The Server is the Ālaya-vijñāna, the Buddhists call it. The storehouse consciousness. And all you and all else is defined by entanglements that will be reconciled.
So what you say doesn't matter. It's what you intend to say, and your skillfulness in saying it. The unskillful throughout history have died. The bad intentioned throughout history have died. Strange. It's like morality is a skill.
