make your own kind of music, sing your own special song
We live such small lives, such narrow little lives. Nothing is permanent, everything passes away. Trees, rocks, stars, galaxies, us--nothing is born that does not eventually die.
We know this, and yet we still spend the finite time we have arguing with each other, planning strife, playing games of war and conflict. Boredom, anger, fear, contempt, competitiveness--all these reasons and more to get blood on our hands.
We know this. And yet. And yet.
We love as fiercely as we fight, and if we do not love wisely, at least we can say, at the end of things, that we did love. Our passions consume us, some utterly, sparking into ash at a single touch of heated breath; some dwelling and slow, pondering each thing in the intricate game of cat and mouse that all too frequently, stars us in either role--or both.
I would not presume to claim I do not fight, I do not rage; Om Kali, Om Kali, I do, I have. I will never say I do not spend my time on foolish things. I have, I do, it's understandable.
Sometimes growth requires pain; sometimes evolution follows destruction. Sometimes our lessons can only be learned through dint of long struggle. We do not make it easy, on ourselves or others.
After all, if every new concept, new idea, new lesson, were easy--if each lesson in our lives were given to us whole and perfect--we would never have reason to improve. We would have no reason to forge ahead. We would stand still, never moving, never growing, never changing.
We would be a people of stagnation, a nation, a planet, a galaxy, a universe. And we would never know the longing: for instruction, for admiration, for friendship, love, power, understanding. We would not have understanding. We would not understand, ourselves.
Do not stand still. Do not stagnate. Move. Push past your comfortable boundaries. Open your heart to the lessons of the universe. Get hurt, get pushed down, rise up again and keep moving. Keep moving.
And never stop learning. And never stop taking chances. We have such small lives, such narrow little lives. Don't waste them.
We know this, and yet we still spend the finite time we have arguing with each other, planning strife, playing games of war and conflict. Boredom, anger, fear, contempt, competitiveness--all these reasons and more to get blood on our hands.
We know this. And yet. And yet.
We love as fiercely as we fight, and if we do not love wisely, at least we can say, at the end of things, that we did love. Our passions consume us, some utterly, sparking into ash at a single touch of heated breath; some dwelling and slow, pondering each thing in the intricate game of cat and mouse that all too frequently, stars us in either role--or both.
I would not presume to claim I do not fight, I do not rage; Om Kali, Om Kali, I do, I have. I will never say I do not spend my time on foolish things. I have, I do, it's understandable.
Sometimes growth requires pain; sometimes evolution follows destruction. Sometimes our lessons can only be learned through dint of long struggle. We do not make it easy, on ourselves or others.
After all, if every new concept, new idea, new lesson, were easy--if each lesson in our lives were given to us whole and perfect--we would never have reason to improve. We would have no reason to forge ahead. We would stand still, never moving, never growing, never changing.
We would be a people of stagnation, a nation, a planet, a galaxy, a universe. And we would never know the longing: for instruction, for admiration, for friendship, love, power, understanding. We would not have understanding. We would not understand, ourselves.
Do not stand still. Do not stagnate. Move. Push past your comfortable boundaries. Open your heart to the lessons of the universe. Get hurt, get pushed down, rise up again and keep moving. Keep moving.
And never stop learning. And never stop taking chances. We have such small lives, such narrow little lives. Don't waste them.
Comments
:D
Have you ever read marcus aurelius, em?
And yes. Long long long ago, but yes. I should look into him again. The voice of moderation, that man.