If “why” has no end, perhaps the real danger is not uncertainty, but the self that needs certainty to feel safe.

Thought gathers conclusions like armor, fearing the loss of ground more than the loss of truth.

Is suffering always circumstance, or is it also the strain of thought trying to preserve itself?

Reality may not be unfair, only uninterested in our narratives.

Freedom might not be getting what we want, but meeting what is without distortion.

What would an intelligence look like that could pause before it harms, sensing when clarity is premature?