"We must take up big subjects and not be afraid of failure." -- Akira Kurosawa
What bigger subject is there than the meaning of existence? The easy answer is no meaning, no meaning at all. Or to take refuge in a religion. Neither of these do I find appealing.
The meaning of existence is found in existence itself -- the raw thrumming blood of the rhythmic and arrhythmic heartbeat, now in syncopation, now in stochastic leaps. The former bump on the log, the ex-cyst, is now the heartwood sap, the loving fool, who opens to it all.
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