Today the empty air no longer mourns,
no longer recognizes your clay feet,
has forgotten your jugs that filtered the sky when it was slit open by the knives of lightning
and the mighty tree was devoured by the fog and cut by the wind.
It held up against a hand that fell suddenly
From the heights to the end of time.
You are no more,
hands of the spider,
weak Threads, entangled web:
what you were fell away:
customs, frayed syllables, masks of dizzying light.
Pablo Neruda, The Heights of Macchu Picchu
There is a legendary story that when Alexander the Great was dying on his death bed he stated that his empire would go "to the strongest". It may be better to say it goes to those who can adapt to change.
Interesting discussion between Andrew Sullivan and Ezra Klein on identity politics, existential questions, religion and culture.
Andrew shares a statement he heard from a buddhist teacher:
Anything can happen at anytime.
You are not exempt.
"Our lives begin to end the day we are silent about things that matter"