And everyday, we wander further into the jungle.
Groping, feeling, testing, trying.
Do we really know where we’re going?
Or are we going to arrive back at where we started one day, realising, too late, that we have been going in circles?
“Here’s what’s not beautiful about it: from here, you can’t see the rust or the cracked paint or whatever, but you can tell what the place really is. You can see how fake it all is. It’s not even hard enough to be made out of plastic. It’s a paper town. I mean, look at it, Q: look at all those culs-de-sac, those streets that turn in on themselves, all the houses that were built to fall apart. All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking beer some bum bought for them at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of owning things. All the things paper-thin and paper-frail. And all the people, too. I’ve lived here for eighteen years and I have never once in my life come across anyone who cares about anything that matters.”
“But there are a thousand ways to look at it: Maybe the strings break, or maybe the ships sink, or maybe we’re grass – our roots so interdependent that no one is dead as long as someone is still alive. We don’t suffer from a shortage of metaphors , is what I mean. But you have to be careful which metaphor you choose, because it matters. If you choose the strings, then you’re imagining a world in which you can become irreparably broken. If you choose the grass, you’re saying that we are all infinitely interconnected, that we can use these root systems not only to understand one another but to become one another. The metaphors have implications.”
Sometimes its the things that we cannot hold in our hands, that last the longest.
Sometimes its the most short-lived of moments, that stay in our hearts forever.
Sometimes its the simplest things, that bring the greatest joy.
Do you believe, that everyday can be a Happy, if only we look for the right things?
A few incidents involving rude people and people with poor attitudes, specifically those of the younger generation, left me leaving work today feeling really disappointed and downcast.
And the whole “what am I doing this for” cycle starts again.
If we indeed have free will, then why are so many circumstances not within our control?
If time is really ours, then why are we constantly rushing against it, in a bid to outwit that which we cannot grasp?
If this life was really meant for the ultimate goal (open to personal interpretations of respective readers),
Then why are we spending so much time, doing so much that takes us further and further from it?