Forget the egg and chicken. Which came first? The person or the world of objects. It’s a trick question, my interdependent co-arising friend.
Sooner or later, all people get bored with the latest object of interest and their survival depends upon finding a new one.
It’s either that or make the latest object of interest your personal universe and go down that particular star-crossed rabbit hole.
For example, I’m revisiting Shakespeare, beginning with a Midsummer Night’s Dream, appropriately, and intend to binge his other comedies in the coming weeks.
It’s only much ado about nothing but I like it, I like it, yes I do. “And she, sweet lady, dotes, devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, upon this spotted and inconstant man.”
footnotes
then there's an open head as absolute subject and every object including yourself is within brahman
attention spans aren't growing shorter as much as the world is getting faster
i went down the rabbit hole of fundamental christianity once in my early thirties but thank god its angry god dropped me one night
shakespeare is more than a recluse. did not publish. left behind no diary or memoir. some even question authorship. shakespeare is ten thousand recluses.
i am i without an object. and i have given up my only begotten self to be an object in this play of self-awareness.
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