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Seeing Red: Lukewarm are the ultimate results of Duality
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Original Message
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Seeking the horizon? Good choice!
First, know that red light & blue light affect our metabolisms antagonistically.
As the sun is most lofty, it dangerously displays its blinding white, a fine representation of Order which, upon penetrating the prism of Birth, emits the full-spectrum of Chaos.
Now, if you can't even look directly into the light you worship, what does that say about your relationship with it? How can you give sole devotion to that which you can't even welcome?
And of course, thanatotic blue light surrounds the orbital purity during day, littering the deceptive portal of heavenly death.
We get our most solemn and endearing view of the Sun when it is cloaked in the soft, inviting, rubicund rays of energetic splendor.
A mild view, yes, but it is empowering.
The opposites you cannot solemnly behold, for you were birthed at Eternal Dusk. No soul shall crave to return to Pure Order, for there is no being in Pure Order as it is the opposite of Pure Chaos, which is Life.
Since we cannot be One with Death, we must be Three with it.
What's more extreme than Life or Death?
Breathing in Chaos, within Life, as if from Death, as New: Born Again
Still set to go gentle into that Good Light?
It's only as gentle as it can heal you. Only through the gentle (married) reception of duality are we able to most potently birth extremes.
A blinding light stuns, leaving its victim in the ice where severity ain't so nice. The holy ol' Cold has them - but, as hot-blooded souls, our radiance kneels by the whip of Reason, and deprivation of heat is an insult to our core.
Even as we are bound to Order, energy remains our sustenance, ever-vowing 'least the tiniest twinkle of expression. Neglect of this crucial aspect of being corrupts the cross of Seed & Sprout. Yes, we serve two masters; ignoring either, the eternal offering of Ultimated Experience (the best of both Worlds) is degraded into the noncollisive, birth-berating, lukewarm slop of inept, dualistic toil.
May we never reason an eternal promise of lost energy.
Strike that deal down somethin' solemn.
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