And you open the door, and you step inside. We’re inside our hearts. Now imagine your pain as a white ball of healing light. That’s right. Your pain, the pain itself, is a white ball of healing light. I don’t think so.

This is your life, good to the last drop. It doesn’t get any better than this. This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time. This isn’t a seminar. This isn’t a weekend retreat. Where you are now, you can’t even imagine what the bottom will be like.

Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It’s only after you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything. Nothing is static, everything is evolving. Everything is falling apart.

This is your life – it doesn’t get any better than this. You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are all part of the same compost heap. We are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world.

You are not your bank account. You are not the clothes you wear. You are not the contents of your wallet. You are not your bowel cancer. You are not your grande latte. You are not the car you drive. You are not your freaking khakis.

You have to give up. You have to realize that someday, you will die. Until you know that, you are useless.

I say, may I never be complete. I say, may I never be content. I say, deliver me from Swedish furniture. I say, deliver me from clever art. I say, deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth. I say, evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.

This is your life, it doesn’t get any better than this. And, it’s ending one minute at a time.