Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 81 (for those rare glorious entities who retain enough resilience in their depths to do handstands)

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How insulated these men were. They were imperial in their selfhood, these corporate culturists running a government. They lived, heedless, infallible. They understood contention and expected nothing else. I told them it depressed me to be in the same room with them. The president looked at me—did I mean him as well? You all live unquestioningly inside the social reality—war, God, money—that other people invented long ago, I said, and you take these things for raw existence. It was quite a speech I gave them.

Apparently.

They were careless of life, I said, they were prime examples of human insufficiency, I said, and I told them I spoke as an authority on the subject. Then I took a deep breath and did a handstand.

A what?

It just came over me, I was up on my hands almost before I realized it. Perhaps it was the image of Briony…

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