"Difficulty itself may be a path toward concentration - expended effort weaves us into a task, and successful engagement, however laborious, becomes also a labor of love. The work of writing brings replenishment even to the writer dealing with painful subjects or working out formal problems, and there are times when suffering's only open path is through an immersion in what is. The eighteenth-century Urdu poet Ghalib described the principle this way: "For the raindrop, joy is in entering the river - / Unbearable pain becomes its own cure."
Today, I realize how much I need the darkness over the light right now. I am like the mouse, swallowed whole by the snake, and sitting there, dissolving in the process of digestion, and assimilated into a whole new way of time, for the snake and the mouse live very different lives as to their use of motion and food. I feel myself becoming the snake, content to loll on a rock in the sun, and to feel each muscle and rib stroke the earth as it moves.
I also find it interesting to note that anger changes our saliva. A snake only uses its venom to protect its life. Perhaps, we, too, should notice our secretions, and keep our saliva sweet, as much as possible. Let us nip in play, and only bite when we truly are threatened, which, in these times, may be somewhat rare. Assume people mean the best in what they say and do, and, then, what's thrown, may slide off,like icing on warm cake, and when, you do need to bite, then, do, but, only then.