Sometimes i try to imagine that these are exciting times
i'm living in. Instead of--dreary and terrifying.

For each of us there are important words, and these we define
unlike anyone else. I wonder if all huge misunderstandings
begin in not asking: What do you mean by this? --Because
it's such a dumb question, really.

Though i am sick of violence, this alone cannot give me a
belief in nonviolence. Ahimsa--soul force--i have never
seen work. And the only environment where i always
have enough love--the wilderness--that's just where i don't
need to believe in nonviolence... No, i can't do more than
try to be fair with each person, from day to day, moment to
moment. I don't have the integrity for convictions.

   "Where Every Prospect

There will be no evil
No throat bared in
Scarlet agony here
But only the green grass

Waving beside peaceful roads

Along which gay
Runners carry thoughts of the sun
To fill the wilderness
With animals of loftier design

Than bowed to thug

And gun
In whose image created they
This
Where no peace is
Where only the stench of
Smoking flesh
Can adequately say, Now

Man is not evil"

--Kenneth Patchen

Insofar as we aren't free, our lives generate injustice. Friction.
But it's no use to search for the blame. Rather, learn not to react
from your sensitivity--knowing how far we are from being completely
free--learn how not to make it worse. When to get away from words,
and when to take refuge in them. Because even the most balanced
of us is recovering from a grave and subtle sickness. (To say this
without cruelty.) (Or sentimentality either.)

Will and willingness: law and justice.

Ah Christiania... i visited there in 1977. Saw the hash supermarket.
Didn't see any naked hippies in body paint (alas). Now the Blue Meanies are
after them too.