Love, Lust, and Saturday Night Fever

Outside, whispering so the squirrels can sleep, the host admits he’s wiped: long shift, kids’ hockey, not much gas for nonsense. Still, he shows up with a sharp Sadhguru riff—“entertainment hides our madness.” If we were truly sane, we could watch a flower bloom. He contrasts lust (a restless need) with love (settled ease), arguing that modern neurosis thrives because we move too little and medicate it with clubs, screens, and work-as-distraction. Meditation, he says, flips the script: dance for joy, not to burn off turmoil. In between, he savors a grateful beat—coaching both sons, his mom in the stands, a life already “won” even if the Inner World Summit arrives posthumously. It’s lean, low-key, and honest: fewer jokes, more looking. The invitation is simple—less noise, more being—and, if you must be entertained, let it be by bamboo growing in the dark.