6.30.2011 The harlequin goes to sleep as a mountain range and wakes up with a river carved into his back. He stomps earthquakes. He farts volcanoes.

He enters further in the world. If he is born on Earth in the twenty-first century there will be records: measurements of his body, the time, the place, who conveyed him, etc. And he must have a name. When his thoughts ask for these things to appear he is startled that nothing happens. He panics. He notices that human minds are separated, not only from each other but from higher flows. He sees that he will be dependent on others he can't control. Can he back out now? Mild claustrophobia. A little more panic.

The situation is more clear now. He lies back down to have a rest and consider the things he will give up to be human and the things he will get. How strongly does we want to act out our story? And what alternatives exist?
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