Cultivate poise and passivity

artwork by Salvador Dali


One of my favorite philosophers wrote, "Passion is not power; it is the abuse of power, the dispersion of power. Passion is like a furious storm which beats fiercely and wildly upon the embattled rock, while power is like the rock itself, which remains silent and unmoved by it all."
Singleness. Singleness of mind, of purpose. Power is willing, and able to stand alone. It is associated with immovability. Defying what would attempt to shake it. As I see myself looking backwards, I've traveled those highways with no one on them, long expanses of what seemed to be abandoned roads. Desolate, and dangerous. Herein lies the difference as I see it. Passion would have left me there. Passion would have cried out from the position of austerity. On its knees with one hand covering its face, the other lifted high to heaven. Becoming more spent with each heaving breath. Power? Well, I suppose power is the hand that reaches back (to the one reaching heavenward). It is that light you see on that highway. It is that voice you hear from behind, and becomes the very breath within you as you heave. The exhale, and the inhale. It becomes the thing that you, in your desperate passion, run towards. The immoveable, unwavering. And it causes you to stand alone.