It is not in the doing itself. It is in what we find – supposed – peace….

The inaction. The inaction. No activity. No meaningful (!) activity. No sense in being.

Acting! Being competent. Acting successfully. To „create“ something. No matter what. That which – one – can. That is meaning. That is – control. That is – security. To be absorbed in it and – forget everything else. Death. The way of humanity. The complicated things. The things without answers. The things that taste of lack of control…. Of the bitter fruit of one’s own insignificance….

Doing „what you can.“ There lies the key… What can man do? He can do what he is taught. And he cannot do what he is made to forget.

Everyone has to „do“. The spiritual and the materialist. In both, the meaning is inherent in doing. Only: what can the individual do? Where does he find the sense? What can the hollowed-out materialist do other than the destructive work that has been laid out in him?

It is not in the doing itself. It is in what we find – supposed – peace…. Whether in surrender or in control. In security or in defence against fear. Is man forced to seek it in his solitude or is he allowed to work divinely in the oneness of the cosmos?

Pain must never be allowed to guide us. Our actions grow out of the fearless knowledge of our security in the meaning, of our soulfulness and of the eternal unity of everything. We always act in love for everything and everyone. There is no inner separation. Pain alone must never guide us.

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