Trimming down the dogs nails, I have the realization of what would happen if we let ours grow long on the path to Buddhahood. I, who impose my aesthetic on the most enlightened being in my presence, will be present as his aesthetic takes over me, and then be a witness to a zillion feral children all before me. Barking mad with their personalized depersonalization, but forever cursed with the lunacies of animality. Never being understood, and always transcending. The cycle, no matter how much humanity we impose onto it with monolithic structures and organized hierarchies and picking orders, will always be burrows and food chains. Whether subdued, or in the open, the cycle is playing forward and backward, repeating only synchronizations, repeating only ignorance at the face of bliss. Subdued, repressed, liberated, free, what spirit of the beasts do we not inherit being the most savage of them, but also the most compassionate? I long for fangs and claws upon rebirth. Renouncing this sage path; I’ll smell their ass to say hello.