Stanley Druckenmiller is the man who runs Duquesne Capital Management. It has been his life. He has been totally committed to it. He has given his soul to the fund! But the end is near. By February 2011 it will all be over. We will watch the final moves: money will be returned to investors, and Mr Druckenmiller will sail away on a little boat on the astral sea, and we will never hear from him again. Not the desert. Not the dry desert with the scorching sun! No, Mr Druckenmiller is an emotional man, and he needs soothing water. Cool, cool water will ease his pain. A little splash on his face as he sits in his boat, sailing off to find eternity. That's the life! Or is it death? The calmness, sure. But the emptiness? The nothingness? It's a matter of taste.
But there will be storms! To live is to be in pain! I should know. Listen to me, children. You cannot just sail away, expecting everything to be roses. There will be more than a little splash. I know that huge waves will come and sweep over his boat. There is every chance the boat will be smashed into pieces, and that Mr Druckenmiller will be tossed about on those destructive waves. But this doesn't mean that sharks will feast upon his flesh. His carcass will not bob up and down with a blood-red sun matching the colour of the water all around. No, he will survive. But he will be tested! A giant octopus could take him for a spin in the astral depths! Dolphins could chase him! He might land on the rocks of another reality! In fact, I'm sure he will. His head will hit hard. New emotions will bubble up within him. Some good, some bad. It will be a new life. But not even death would be a release for him. Mr Druckenmiller needs to understand that not even through death can we escape life. It goes on and on and on!
We have no idea who is alive and who is dead. That's the truth. Are any of us so arrogant that we can say we have all the answers? We don't even know the questions. God will not ask them. We are on our own. So take to your boats, my children, if you must. You can build a spaceship, if you want to. No one will stop you. But there will be no escape from reality of one sort or another. We are stuck in a cosmos that may be aware of us, may not. We don't know. God may love us, may not. How are we to know? It's not as if He's human, is it? Does the tiger love the ant? Does the ape love the mouse? And God is not a tiger or an ape! Just spirit. What are we? Spirits in cages of flesh and bone. Don't get any delusions of grandeur. Next time, children, you will be ants, or mice. Tigers. Apes. Oh, you are apes already! Look at yourselves in the mirror.
But there will be storms! To live is to be in pain! I should know. Listen to me, children. You cannot just sail away, expecting everything to be roses. There will be more than a little splash. I know that huge waves will come and sweep over his boat. There is every chance the boat will be smashed into pieces, and that Mr Druckenmiller will be tossed about on those destructive waves. But this doesn't mean that sharks will feast upon his flesh. His carcass will not bob up and down with a blood-red sun matching the colour of the water all around. No, he will survive. But he will be tested! A giant octopus could take him for a spin in the astral depths! Dolphins could chase him! He might land on the rocks of another reality! In fact, I'm sure he will. His head will hit hard. New emotions will bubble up within him. Some good, some bad. It will be a new life. But not even death would be a release for him. Mr Druckenmiller needs to understand that not even through death can we escape life. It goes on and on and on!
We have no idea who is alive and who is dead. That's the truth. Are any of us so arrogant that we can say we have all the answers? We don't even know the questions. God will not ask them. We are on our own. So take to your boats, my children, if you must. You can build a spaceship, if you want to. No one will stop you. But there will be no escape from reality of one sort or another. We are stuck in a cosmos that may be aware of us, may not. We don't know. God may love us, may not. How are we to know? It's not as if He's human, is it? Does the tiger love the ant? Does the ape love the mouse? And God is not a tiger or an ape! Just spirit. What are we? Spirits in cages of flesh and bone. Don't get any delusions of grandeur. Next time, children, you will be ants, or mice. Tigers. Apes. Oh, you are apes already! Look at yourselves in the mirror.
