Link: We’re all post-apocalyptic outlaws now

We’re all post-apocalyptic outlaws now

Translation, this is the perfect time. To advance the cause. To birth the warrior. To deepen your resolve for more life at all costs. At the gates of hell, you plant seeds. In the midst of mania, you intend calm. You create fighters, resistance, you double, triple, quadruple your efforts as you join with the hundreds of millions of others of the same ilk, and you pass around the SPF 10,000 as you blink hard, deepen your intention and grab hands with those nearest to you.

Then you lean into the fire, and laugh.

There are, as usual, two ways to approach it. One is, of course, to hurl your worldview to the floor like a child in tantrum, let it get lost in a frothy, unbridled fit of karmic despair as you say…