Asking the fundamental question of being in our own times, we face the gaping existential blindspot of our absolute historicity, the unconscious framework of the collective, which prevents us from properly knowing ourselves or our “place in history.”
From time immemorial, in the highlands of Mesoamerica, the spectacle of the winter solstice, this most sacred of rising dawns, has offered a precise point of spiritual concentration and reflection on the nature of being in time.
Attempting to trace my own “path to bliss” cannot be a self-centered affair. Every individual decision and risk I take reverberates in the life of the collective that supports me. An authentic path, therefore, can never be a question of isolated “personal responsibility.”