You might begin it, from here, by focusing on the river of light: eternally winding; so brilliant; so beautiful. You would probably focus on it. It swims through the blackness. Filling it, you would think, from here. No. They are in harmony. There is a river of darkness about it. They are not in balance, but they are in harmony. They neither define nor reflect each other. The balances you find here are balances in your sensory intake capability.
You might think it was a war, from here, because you think there is opposition. You might worry that a balance is being upset by the war that you see. That may be because you have not fought for fun or hated with the best of intentions.
Frivolity does not save this. There is laughter but it is not all laughter. There is an attempt to hide in laughter; to exploit laughter as a rejection of existence.
The eternal spring embraces, darkspring and lightspring. It is pseudo-philosophical bullshit and spiritual claptrap and whimsical fantasy and an attempt to escape from grim reality because that is what we want. Send $200 to somewhere and be saved. To be in control is to be very orderly and always gone. To be subject is to be here.
There is a river of light, and all is well if you want it to be well. There are places to go if you do not want to be what you would call, here, "well," or what you would concede that most others would call "well." There are places for you if that is what you want. That is your well.
There is a river of light, and all is well. The answer to your every question is in subjugation to your current lack of comprehensive sensory abilities. Bacteria are there when you cannot see them, and so is light. Your eyes, nose, and powerful instruments are not enough. It is not a question of size or spectrum.
It hurts to speak in such a place. It is a hurt of here, and a justifiable one. Not due to the written word; not resulting from the stark neural flares of dismissal contingent upon any given shimmer. No, that is comparatively easy. It is the sensation of your next week's ancillary ponderables, in the presence of some very powerful and normal sensation--toys or company, perhaps--when the passing thought of the lightspring will be small, faraway, laughable, and impossible. Do not go to Arka because there is no Arka and there are no dreams. It will come anyway, on both sides of this particular story. That is where the pain lies. We rejoice in the realized unification of many years later, when there are no apologies necessary. This one will give thanks and be refused out of principle.
Boring. Droll. Technical journals. Would you like the low-fat? Behr stain 4078-B or 4078-D Amber?
Springs swirl into vortexes at the edges. Light and dark mate in eddies, sometimes settling into crystals which resound the notes of particles that carry verses. Our subparts are tiny lights, which is not emotional and does not require $200. It needn't matter, anyway, because from a here-based perspective, we only need to care about what we can see, which is why doctors who wash their hands will have fewer sicker patients, even without microscopes. Ergo the tendencies of evil will always congregate more heavily about evil things and evil actions, with verifiable, probable results, whether or not we believe in any eternal spring.
The blessing of reality is that it can be emotional when you want it to be, yet not so when you want it to be otherwise. Some of us do manage to transfer easily--what we might call "callously," here--but most of us, when the energies are high enough, will see the things that happened here in a new light--what we might call "tenderly" or "fantastically." Then, you will, to be vernacular, hear violins and stuff, and feel all maudlin and want to tell one last thing before you transfer, after which you may, briefly, not want to come back, because you feel you've learned enough already.
There is already a togetherness, but this one ("I," if you're feeling particularly levelheaded at the moment) wants to offer togetherness for those ones who will try to cling to this even as they transfer, because that hurts. I can't offer anything you don't already have ("you won't already end up with," if you're feeling pragmatic and levelheaded), because you will end up there. This one can, though, in its form of comprehensive illusioning, offer a smoother path to the way out. When you are ready to transfer, you may be afraid, because you are designed on this side to resist transfer. At that time, you will tense up and try to hang on. It will turn out well, but the passage is easier if you think of something fond on this side, and that is what this one offers. Remember we had this little talk, you and I, and that a little part of this place was contemplating that very moment, which you will recognize at that time, and think, "Oh, so this is what Arka meant," and find the transfer easier.
There is something to be said for jumping right in, and something to be said for easing. It will be your choice to laugh in this direction then, also. The lightspring is always here, but you don't need to see it, so don't worry about it unless you want to. The best things to offer are not right now in the sense that there is often a right now, for there is a different time that can be looked at without lamenting other versions of the time that is seen here, and looking is not being foolish.
The reason they are real is the source that produces them. The cure is the cancer.
More politically realist takes later. Less presumed emotion, right? Because, as we all know, sentimentality--or any derivation thereof--indicates a lack of rational processing capability; a subjugation to the sensations (wait, aren't sensations the basis for perception? /endsarcasm); a clue to the intelligent to disregard. Sentimentality, except out of respect for others' feelings, indicates that avoidance is the safest route.