Not a slogan but a mantra

Not a slogan but a mantra... A mantra rather than a slogan, and the role of habit in the genesis of the former, the part this contrast might play in distinguishing 'noble' practice from the dreary play of ressentiment/ envy. That was it, that was - for what it is worth - I lost and then refound. It came back to me as a dream sometimes returns to you as you soak in the bath, or in the course of a long run. Yet where do these recollections, these fleeting inventions of the intelligence actually 'go to' ? What sort of substance, if any, do they have when they are 'away'. One thinks of something in the 'interior' akin in a way to swirling leaves caught in the eddy of a fickle autumn wind. And then sticking to the wall of some remote cavity there, down in the rhizome. Effortful thought combs these hidden non-spaces (since assuredly there is no 'where') like a metal detector.

Last night he dreamed that a tiny, inquisitive and friendly owl emerged from a container of blackberries he had picked in the local wood. The owl spoke English and was friendly and reassuring. Yet one association that was brought to mind was with the phrase 'when the owl calls your name' which, he vaguely recalled, refers to the imminence of death.