I once went to Findhorn. It's a community in north-east Scotland, initially well known to me for growing extraordinarily huge vegetables, reputedly by talking to them. I wanted to check out their gardens but by the time I got there I was told they no longer grew veg, they now grew people. I felt this huge surge of cynicism well up inside of me and it was made all the more apparent by the utter niceness of the Findhorn residents all around me. I realised I was not that nice of a person, at least not compared to them.
Now, as I descend even further into my bitter existence I take consolation from knowing that my cynicism is protecting me from the indefinite facts that so many of us base our lives on.
Maybe I need to take some rescue remedy - that should make me feel better!
Happy Birthday, Mr. DeVice!
11 hours ago