As soon as the pilgrim starts to follow an academic junction, he moves further away from the spiritual path.
Inevitably, the intellectual approach dries up the heart of pilgrims.
Though this approach claims to participate to a deepening, a reinforcement of knowledge, it makes the practice more shallow, until it starts crackle and split.
Without letting any frequency escape from its spectrum, it applies an empiric prison-grid of cutting and slicing to the sitting disciple.
It tags, categorises, and then classes and ranks the various sections it slices with a compulsive axe.
It follows the traces draw by the ego of those drawing up the maps of the forests, by themselves and for themselves.
The man from the woods, who grew up within this nature, knows how to walk across rocks, ferns and mosses. Instinctively, he knows how to tell apart the juicy fruit and the poisoned one.
About their maniac maps, he does not care the least.
And when he sees the beloved tree along his peaceful walk sawed into neatly stacked sections along the path…should he even come closer to observe it, intrigued by those man-made geometric shapes, will see nothing there,
Nothing there but dead wood.