Thought like flames
Nighttime in the suburbs, or at least one of them. Heavy clouds are hanging och me but no rain is falling, seems a shame to go to bed instead of sucking every ounce of of beauty out of the view, the moon hiding behind one cloud while throwing its light on another, an endless procession of cars on the highway below and the snapping of the flaglines to my right.
It makes me appreciate life just a little bit more, each new experience, each new soght and each new thing of beauty that i find as the days keep passing by. School is finally out for this semester, all reports and exams are done and passed, I've got a long summer lying completely open before me, few things are booked, a few others loosely planned but most of it will consist of reading and taking one day at a time and just contemplating what it's all about, and what it is? What is it all about? 42? The answer to life, death and everything, or is it something else? Like honoring your parents, chewing with your mouth closed and not sitting on cold stones while wearing wet swimming trunks? Maybe not. Probably not.
Then what is it? Is it just a trip from A to B? The classic idea of watching your life flash before your eyes as you are dying, isn't that what's called life? Watching? Watching is what life is all about, watching and seeing, really seeing, seeing all that which makes both life as well as other human beings great or horrible, beautiful or ugly, fair or lopsided.
Listening and hearing, touching and feeling, acting and doing!
Two years in school have passed, and some days it feels like a week, if it wasn't for all the memories of good times and bad times I would hardly believe that time has passed this quickly, perhaps I'm lucky to write this blog where I can revisit my feelings? Admittedly it's mostly sad feelings but without those how would we know what joy truly is? Sometimes I look back and think that there! then! I had happiness!
But I fear that it might just as well be nothing but a product of an overactive brain making something good seem even better than it really was.
Most probably it's a natural, definitely very human quirk to improve memories, making them better or worse, to imprint the memories and the lessons they should teach us, maybe it didn't hurt all that much falling on your bike, but a powerful memory of pain will keep us from doing it again.
Occasionally I fear my mind belittles the true memories, the true experiences, weren't they good or bad enough to justify my actions without the enhancement?
Wasn't it good enought without me trying to change it? If it wasn't I'm glad it's over, if it was I'm sad I don't feel it anymore, but I do not think that I will ever be sorry that some things are in the past, life is an evermoving, everchanging thing.
What is real, the true thing or the memories of the thing? The occation or the impression of the truth?
I choose the memories, if they are beautiful or good, then so was it, and that is all I need to know and remember.
Goodnight.
It makes me appreciate life just a little bit more, each new experience, each new soght and each new thing of beauty that i find as the days keep passing by. School is finally out for this semester, all reports and exams are done and passed, I've got a long summer lying completely open before me, few things are booked, a few others loosely planned but most of it will consist of reading and taking one day at a time and just contemplating what it's all about, and what it is? What is it all about? 42? The answer to life, death and everything, or is it something else? Like honoring your parents, chewing with your mouth closed and not sitting on cold stones while wearing wet swimming trunks? Maybe not. Probably not.
Then what is it? Is it just a trip from A to B? The classic idea of watching your life flash before your eyes as you are dying, isn't that what's called life? Watching? Watching is what life is all about, watching and seeing, really seeing, seeing all that which makes both life as well as other human beings great or horrible, beautiful or ugly, fair or lopsided.
Listening and hearing, touching and feeling, acting and doing!
Two years in school have passed, and some days it feels like a week, if it wasn't for all the memories of good times and bad times I would hardly believe that time has passed this quickly, perhaps I'm lucky to write this blog where I can revisit my feelings? Admittedly it's mostly sad feelings but without those how would we know what joy truly is? Sometimes I look back and think that there! then! I had happiness!
But I fear that it might just as well be nothing but a product of an overactive brain making something good seem even better than it really was.
Most probably it's a natural, definitely very human quirk to improve memories, making them better or worse, to imprint the memories and the lessons they should teach us, maybe it didn't hurt all that much falling on your bike, but a powerful memory of pain will keep us from doing it again.
Occasionally I fear my mind belittles the true memories, the true experiences, weren't they good or bad enough to justify my actions without the enhancement?
Wasn't it good enought without me trying to change it? If it wasn't I'm glad it's over, if it was I'm sad I don't feel it anymore, but I do not think that I will ever be sorry that some things are in the past, life is an evermoving, everchanging thing.
What is real, the true thing or the memories of the thing? The occation or the impression of the truth?
I choose the memories, if they are beautiful or good, then so was it, and that is all I need to know and remember.
Goodnight.
posted by Monkey boy at 8:45 PM
1 Comments:
Sicket esse du är på engelska.
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