Near the hate

In the vicinity of hatred, there is only silence in the end. It is the dead silence of the paralyzed, of those deprived of their soul power. And it is the silence of centering. The deep silence of those who have withdrawn full of strength into their roots. The silence of those who offer no nourishment to the consuming fire of hatred and, despite the infernal rage around them, do not lose an ounce of their strength. Those are silent out of weariness. These are silent out of strength.

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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