The ouroboros, the bardo, the Default Mode Network, and fifty billion dying cells per day all point to the same truth: the universe does not create its most essential elements during stability. It creates them in collapse.
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On the Mogollon Rim, inside two and a half million acres of pine, I wrote five vows, each shaped like an old wound and pointed the other way. Why a vow is not a wish, what a tree knows about love, and a practice for writing your own.
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