In the mastery of myself I dwell, as I think, in this reign where there is no democracy, unless I am choice itself, instead of the chooser because upon each act there is biased thought, a judgment that suits behavior, a behavior that follows belief, the belief of freedom within a limited fan of possibilities, where... Whatever I think is already trapped within the limits of concepts and their definitions. What is a belief has not liberty painted upon itself; the entrapment of thought is belief, and its result, ideology. The purest form of ideology are concepts, so subtle is this belief that doubting conceptualizations might seem irrational, unnatural, even inhuman, thus we create what is real through the illusion of thought, acting as if there were nothing else each time I believe I am who you are not. Belief by itself has no goodness or badness, no greatness or shallowness, itself as a concept it is a mental representation of reality, a way to master the impossible to control, the greatness beyond ourselves, the trees and its mansions, the flowers and its fashions, the teas and its satisfactions, the powers and its interactions, and in the contemplation of those beliefs lies the wisdom of love, beyond the judgments of faith, the contemplation of each aspect of ourselves, until ourselves becomes it all. In the awareness of the other, the other becomes oneself as time evaporates into the infinity of my love, in being, love, and the wanting to be the master disappears, the struggle dissipates as I lie submissive to the experience, aware of my thoughts, contemplating their nature, aware of my nature, contemplating the experience within and beyond the concept of myself, love as being, not feeling, love as wisdom, not cognition, love as experience, not knowledge, love as you, love as me, love as it all, in contemplation of love, experience aware of itself, ... love.