You can only find two ways and, ultimately, neither is it. Only the third way is but the third way is the only way that you cannot search to find, it can only find you. Then, being shrewd, you pick up on this secret and you begin to look for a way to be found… hence, one of the two ways creep up in disguise… so then you notice your own hack and cheat and just stand there in a now oblivious space, feeling nothing much but fear… You got no ways, no plans… nothing you devise does anything (but the opposite, as it seems)… and that which you want, you don’t know when, how or if at all it will ever grace you. You don’t know when, how or if ever the third way will find you … then you start to think about the third way.. what is it about anyway? Why want it, why wait for it? Why bother? Why is everything else less sweet than That, That which you have to tremble for? It wants you to work for it, to sweat for it by not wanting anything from you (can’t be weirder than that)… “it wants” you to endure the discomfort of “not knowing” and “not getting”… “it wants” you to BE There where It is… it’s really about the art of “not knowing” and “not getting” and the art of sweat. it’s about the art of discomfort.. the secret treasury that opens on the turn of discomfort’s key.. I’m a strange hostage of discomfort that wants to kill me into delights.. I am a strange ongoing collection of perplexity.. and I am interacting with other perplexities and, if that weren’t enough, I am an addition to their collection.