Sickness, changes something. Or maybe you expect it to.
The fact that you spend days lying mindlessly and absolutely with yourself, somehow initiates a thought process, but then when everything is alright, this profoundness is lost.
We always look for things to have a greater meaning in life. A moment to mean something more than just a passing illness, a mundane incident or a regular day.That accident you saw on the road, that recent death of a close relative, your recent failure or even when you lost a friend, these loses and little gains. Gains like that of a new love, a new for future, an introspective revelation or happiness after a good meal. These things, big or small are so burdened with the responsibility of having some kind of meaning, relevance and affect on our lives. We try and search for profoundness, even when we know everything is actually very dull and boring, this monotony is sought after for some kind of poignancy (like Mrs. Dalloway). Happiness is supposed to be a hard virtue and sadness more accessible. So when your heart breaks this sadness is supposed to alter you in some possible way. Happiness too for that matter, but somehow it doesn't stick long enough on people. A few grateful gestures and its forgotten.
But it is necessary. Necessary and important to feel a rush of emotions, important to be sicken by grief and elated by happiness for simplest reasons, because in this highly meaningless structure allotted for good living, these reminiscences of fundamental humane emotions keeps us going. We build towers on ladder steps, that shake and tremble, their fragility is their beauty. the fear that puts a curtain over it for no one to see, the relief when someone decides to hop in despite the difficulty. My attention is back to the little things in life, greater ideas are formed upon the skeleton of little breakages, little nascent cracks that bleed sunlight in. But this doesn't change the fact that it is actually irrelevant. This search for meaning, everywhere, changes actually nothing and only fuels the keys on our back to go on. But really, what is happiness and remorse?
I recently found out that, no one atom is same in our body as it was on our birth. SO basically, we are nothing, but just information. What is the body? The physical existence is nothing and quite literally so. You are what you know, what you have fed your ever changing brain, therefore existence is knowledge. And this is inspirational. What you are, is your passions. The idea of existence itself is problematic. But it sure is intriguing. We can play around and mess up with these information just as we please, your identity is so fluid and transient. I think that is quite a motivation now. Finally, this existentialist paranoia was getting to my head. If we actually keep a very high perspective then your whole life can be lived like one social experiment after another. Build a series of events, chain reactions that give an unexpected and then do it all over again. I anyways always thought human emotions were overrated. They are never so permanent, given the attention and worries people associate to them.
Now this is fun. Play on.
;)
The fact that you spend days lying mindlessly and absolutely with yourself, somehow initiates a thought process, but then when everything is alright, this profoundness is lost.
We always look for things to have a greater meaning in life. A moment to mean something more than just a passing illness, a mundane incident or a regular day.That accident you saw on the road, that recent death of a close relative, your recent failure or even when you lost a friend, these loses and little gains. Gains like that of a new love, a new for future, an introspective revelation or happiness after a good meal. These things, big or small are so burdened with the responsibility of having some kind of meaning, relevance and affect on our lives. We try and search for profoundness, even when we know everything is actually very dull and boring, this monotony is sought after for some kind of poignancy (like Mrs. Dalloway). Happiness is supposed to be a hard virtue and sadness more accessible. So when your heart breaks this sadness is supposed to alter you in some possible way. Happiness too for that matter, but somehow it doesn't stick long enough on people. A few grateful gestures and its forgotten.
But it is necessary. Necessary and important to feel a rush of emotions, important to be sicken by grief and elated by happiness for simplest reasons, because in this highly meaningless structure allotted for good living, these reminiscences of fundamental humane emotions keeps us going. We build towers on ladder steps, that shake and tremble, their fragility is their beauty. the fear that puts a curtain over it for no one to see, the relief when someone decides to hop in despite the difficulty. My attention is back to the little things in life, greater ideas are formed upon the skeleton of little breakages, little nascent cracks that bleed sunlight in. But this doesn't change the fact that it is actually irrelevant. This search for meaning, everywhere, changes actually nothing and only fuels the keys on our back to go on. But really, what is happiness and remorse?
I recently found out that, no one atom is same in our body as it was on our birth. SO basically, we are nothing, but just information. What is the body? The physical existence is nothing and quite literally so. You are what you know, what you have fed your ever changing brain, therefore existence is knowledge. And this is inspirational. What you are, is your passions. The idea of existence itself is problematic. But it sure is intriguing. We can play around and mess up with these information just as we please, your identity is so fluid and transient. I think that is quite a motivation now. Finally, this existentialist paranoia was getting to my head. If we actually keep a very high perspective then your whole life can be lived like one social experiment after another. Build a series of events, chain reactions that give an unexpected and then do it all over again. I anyways always thought human emotions were overrated. They are never so permanent, given the attention and worries people associate to them.
Now this is fun. Play on.
;)
