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Beyond Duality: The Art of Transcendence

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Laurence Galian

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“But it was only her old rival Payasa standing behind her. "¿De dónde?" Payasa sauntered toward her, head thrown back, joy on her face. She wore a blue plaid Pendleton jacket over khakis. Harsh, thick liner circled her defiant eyes. Her real name was Graciela. Payasa was her placa. It meant "clown." Her street name came from the way she wore her makeup, definitely not from her sense of humor.”

“As the world around us constantly changes, let’s use this impermanence as a superpower! Every day offers a fresh opportunity to choose who we want to be. Didn’t like yesterday’s you? No worries, today’s a brand new chance to rewrite the story. Darling listen – just like the unstoppable sunrise, your light has the power to break through any darkness. But true radiance starts within. Focus on cultivating positivity – speak kind words, fill your mind with good thoughts & let your actions reflect your inner beauty. This inner strength will pave the way for your outward success. As you wind down today, I hope you find something that makes you proud, something that sparks laughter & brings a smile to your face. Blessings!”

“A snake,” I replied, breath hitching. “I suppose . . . I’m a snake. A liar. A deceiver. Cursed to crawl on my belly and eat dust all the days of my life.” “Ah.” To my surprise, Claud’s face didn’t twist in disgust or revulsion. He nodded instead, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Yes, I would agree with that assessment.” Humiliation hung my head. “Right. Thanks.” “Louise.” A single finger lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. Those eyes, once warm, now blazed with intensity, with conviction. “What you are now is not what you’ve always been, nor is it what you always will be. You are a snake. Shed your skin if it no longer serves you. Transform into something different. Something better.”

“I find it understandable that people who have been destroying themselves in a drastic way might turn to a drastic cure, and adopt a harsh version of Christianity, every bit as rigid as the physical addiction that formerly held them in thrall. But they also reveal a basic and valuable truth about conversion - that we do not suddenly change in essence, magically become new people, with all our old faults left behind. What happens is more subtle, and to my mind, more revealing of God's great mercy. In the process of conversion, the detestable parts of our selves do not vanish so much as become transformed. We can't run from who we are, with our short tempers, our vanity, our sharp tongues, our talents for self-aggrandizement, self-delusion, or despair. But we can convert, in its root meaning of turn around, so that we are forced to face ourselves as we really are. We can pray that God will take our faults and use them for the good.”

“Fangs grew, eyes blazed, claws and scales and burning rage ripped through me. The burning shift in my frame strained, grew, roared to life in my too-tight skin until everything was covered in hard scales. Vampires and fae alike scattered in my shadow. I guess they hadn't told all the fae of what I was. But it didn't matter because my focus lay entirely on the death-and-flesh scent of more powerful vampires just out of sight. I roared, shaking the very skies. I'm ready, fuckers. Come at me.”

“We should rediscover for ourselves the meaning of our lives asking what we give power to something that is good value to save us in the face of any loss.”