3. Ascending And Descending Information
Fri, 01/25/2008 - 18:35 — admin
His motorcycle started on the first kick, and with one hand on the throttle he bent down, picked up his knapsack, and slung it over his left shoulder. Releasing his grip on the throttle, he twisted his right arm behind his back, threaded it through the shoulder strap, and with a shrug of his shoulders adjusted the somewhat bulky load on his back.
Once outside the suburbs, the road was one long asphalt ribbon stretching across the plain all the way to the small community at the edge of the foothills where Michael lived. On either side of the road grew row after row of cotton, interspersed here and there with rows of gnarled grape vines. For the past three years, thrice a week Michael had made the round trip journey between his home and the university, and he knew every farmer's field and every tree along the road like the back of his hand.
The wind had picked up during the morning and a thin layer of clouds now stretched across the sky. Riding at fifty miles per hour, it was cold enough to make Michael shiver now and again, but not cold enough to cause him undue discomfort. He usually reached his place about twenty-five minutes after leaving the campus, but today, of course, he wasn't returning directly home. When he reached the intersection at the outskirts of town, he stopped to let a group of junior high school students cross the road. It was their lunch hour and they were on their way to the same corner store he had visited on almost a daily basis some seven or eight years earlier when attending the same school. Another group of kids sat on the bench alongside the store, eating junk food and talking, Michael was sure, about the same things he talked about when he used to sit on the same bench.
Michael let out the clutch and cruised across the intersection and past the old store. The next street on the right was the one which led to TEACHER's place, and at the corner Michael downshifted and leaned his bike into a right turn. After a few blocks, the street narrowed into an old country road with more than its share of potholes and the distance between the houses grew greater and greater.
The negative social results of a society populated primarily by hedonistic people should be obvious to anyone. A society of self-centered, animalistic people who have no other interest than their own sense enjoyment cannot be at all peaceful or progressive — either materially or spiritually.
Science of Identity Foundation – Chris Butler Speaks
3. Ascending And Descending Information
Throughout the entire morning, Michael had looked forward with great anticipation to the end of his classes so that he could leave the campus and return to TEACHER's place for further discussion.His motorcycle started on the first kick, and with one hand on the throttle he bent down, picked up his knapsack, and slung it over his left shoulder. Releasing his grip on the throttle, he twisted his right arm behind his back, threaded it through the shoulder strap, and with a shrug of his shoulders adjusted the somewhat bulky load on his back.
Once outside the suburbs, the road was one long asphalt ribbon stretching across the plain all the way to the small community at the edge of the foothills where Michael lived. On either side of the road grew row after row of cotton, interspersed here and there with rows of gnarled grape vines. For the past three years, thrice a week Michael had made the round trip journey between his home and the university, and he knew every farmer's field and every tree along the road like the back of his hand.
The wind had picked up during the morning and a thin layer of clouds now stretched across the sky. Riding at fifty miles per hour, it was cold enough to make Michael shiver now and again, but not cold enough to cause him undue discomfort. He usually reached his place about twenty-five minutes after leaving the campus, but today, of course, he wasn't returning directly home. When he reached the intersection at the outskirts of town, he stopped to let a group of junior high school students cross the road. It was their lunch hour and they were on their way to the same corner store he had visited on almost a daily basis some seven or eight years earlier when attending the same school. Another group of kids sat on the bench alongside the store, eating junk food and talking, Michael was sure, about the same things he talked about when he used to sit on the same bench.
Michael let out the clutch and cruised across the intersection and past the old store. The next street on the right was the one which led to TEACHER's place, and at the corner Michael downshifted and leaned his bike into a right turn. After a few blocks, the street narrowed into an old country road with more than its share of potholes and the distance between the houses grew greater and greater.