Chameleon

by Christos Polydorou

I am conducting an experiment whose full extend I cannot explain intellectually, but which I most certainly entirely apprehend spiritually. See, I have seen that karma exists, and many people I talk too have seen it too, although they may use a different name, we are all essentially describing the same thing: the mystical mystery of how and why things happen to us. I don’t believe the swirling masses of contradictions and revelations which crush and astound us are accidental anymore, but of course I had to reach this conclusion myself in order to fully comprehend it. The experiment I am conducting is one in which I am setting aside any anger and really attempting to be patient and kind and encouraging and wonderful, so that I can simultaneously attempt to gain some positive mastery over my own destiny. I got the idea when I was reading about Italian medieval monks who painted paintings in order to effect the same transformation upon themselves. I believe that we are expandable like rubber-bands, but spiritually, and this varies upon exposure to light. My secondary personal approach is through romancing, because once you hear the stones sing, you need to see the waterfalls.

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