Compassion Is Not An Option. It's The

We Are Addicted To Our Egotism, Our Likes And Dislikes And Prejudices, And Depend Upon Them For Our Own Sense Of Identity.

Deeds That Seemed Unimportant At The Time Would Prove To Have Been Momentous; A Tiny Act Of Selfishness And Unkindness Or, Conversely, An Unconsidered Act Of Generosity Would Become The Measure Of A Human Life.

After A Time I Found That I Could Almost Listen To The Silence, Which Had A Dimension All Of Its Own. I Started To Attend To Its Strange And Beautiful Texture, Which Of Course, It Was Impossible To Express In Words. I Discovered That I Felt At Home And Alive In The Silence, Which Compelled Me To Enter My Interior World And Around There. Without The Distraction Of Constant Conversation, The Words On The Page Began To Speak Directly To My Inner Self. They Were No Long Expressing Ideas That Were Simply Interesting Intellectually, But Were Talking Directly To My Own Yearning And Perplexity.

People Knew There Were Two Ways Of Coming At Truth. One Was Science, Or What The Greeks Called Logos, Reason, Logic. And That Was Essential That The Discourse Of Science Or Logic Related Directed To The External World. The Other Was Mythos, What The Greeks Called Myth, Which Didn't Mean A Fantasy Story, But It Was A Narrative Associated With Ritual And Ethical Practice But It Helped Us To Address Problems For Which There Were No Easy Answers, Like Mortality, Cruelty, The Sorrow That Overtakes Us All That's Part Of The Human Condition. And These Two Were Not In Opposition, We Needed Both.

...there Is Something Wrong With Any Spirituality That Does Not Inspire Selfless Concern For Others