The understanding of the small man
does not go beyond the details of
giving presents and writing memoranda.

He wears out his spirit in what is
inconsequential and meaningless
but wishes to participate
in guiding others to the tao
and bring about the unity of all things.
But he falls into error
regarding space and time.

Restricted by bodily form
of finite existence, he is kept from
the knowledge of the great beginning.

In contrast, the perfect man focuses his spirit
on what was before the beginning
and finds repose in the unknown,
in the realm of nothingness.

Like water
he/she flows on
without the constraint of matter
and flourishes in great purity.

(It is a pity! People are engrossed in things as insignificant as a hair and do not comprehend the great rest!)

Zhuangzi by Hyun Höchman and Yang Guorong, Book 32 Lie Yukou

Today is Good Friday. Is it a holiday? This Friday is a surreal holiday. Good Friday commemorates the judicial murder of an innocent man. It happened a long time ago. The authorities of that time featured his death in public, a PR event, to caution against opposing the way things were. (We are supposed to all agree – THIS is the best of all worlds.) USA, USA, USA…

We humans still murder one another according to the ancient logic. We continue to be distracted, woefully and ruefully by the trivia of evaporating power, by the applause of strangers while we murder whole nations. Ukraine, Venezuela, and Iran are the latest ones.

GOOD Friday is the ironic memorial to our species, the semi-divine animal, that writes poetry, launches a moon rocket and commits genocide.

Yet the enchainment of past and future
Woven in the weakness of the changing body,
Protects mankind from heaven and damnation
Which flesh cannot endure.
Time past and time future

Allow but a little consciousness.
To be conscious is not to be in time
But only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,
The moment in the arbor where the rain beat,
The moment in the draughty church at smokefall
Be remembered; involved with past and future.
Only through time time is conquered.

Burnt Norton by T. S. Eliot, Stanza II

A song, a song for Good Friday! I nominate this tune to elevate us from our trivial distractions. Dreams by The Cranberries.