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Every day something either disappears or breaks. I don't know if that happens to everybody or just me. Life is a mystery for me. It is filled with mysteries, from micro to cosmic, from serious to mundane. Who is robbing me? Who is breaking my things, are small ones, relatively mundane, yet important.
A lot of things also just seem to fall apart, to just stop. Which goes to prove that you don't have to be alive to die. A good philosopher squeezes meaning out of everything, finding philosophical gems among the everyday clusterfucks of our lives, and just like a policeman sees everyone as a possible criminal, and every painter is generally much more tuned into color and all the beauty everywhere, and perhaps the best artists can see beauty in what is generally considered ugly, I see the humor in everything and have to be careful not to laugh out loud at funerals. And now I small digression: I would prefer people would pretty much keep their religious beliefs to themselves and not align with any particular religion, but to break from the conventional ideas of "God" and create their own unique theories of existence and all that it entails, the entrails, along with their end tales. My unique spiritual path, I call Dog, and I am not a dog lover, though I can appreciate them, but prefer to keep my distance, and let others pet them. Dogs seem to love to be touched. I don't like the sound of dogs barking. It seems so intrusive, like they don't care anything about the tranquility one might be enjoying, or the conversation, or music, in this way, it is as inconsiderate as cigarette smokers and people who leave their cars running while you are eating at an outdoor cafe. It makes me imagine that I am too poetic, too sensitive, for cities and almost life in general. But what I try and always forget to do, is to be grateful whenever I am enjoying a moment at a streetside cafe, and there is no dog barking, no car running, and no addicted buffoon smoking nearby. These are beautiful moments, and I like to believe that if and when I ever get to the point that I will be undisturbed by any of these aforementioned inconsiderations, I will pronounce myself enlightened, or numb. If you are in a hurry for me to get to the point, take a deep breath and remember, happiness is all about the journey, not just the end. But to return to the point, what was the point? Things breaking, the many mysteries we must accept, how humor and most things everywhere are constantly being overlooked by the solemn masses, how inconsiderate dogs and most people seem to be? Many things seem pointless, but how often do you encounter something like this, so pointful (a new word, perhaps?) No, I googled it, "Full of point or substance". So to be so full of points is not necessarily a bad thing, that is unless you are a corona virus. In regards to the point of things being overlooked. I could say almost the same thing about breathing. We take so much for granted, "time rubs off novelty like friction", I always like to say. If you could hardly breathe and somehow your nasal passages miraculously cleared, how much joy you might have breathing each breath, but being that we are so used to breathing, it is entirely taken for granted and the joy of breathing fresh air is lost, especially to people who prefer to smoke in the open air. And just as billionaires become so accustomed to luxury that at some points it becomes commonplace and loses its allure. Like living in the palace of Versailles long enough that all the exquisite paintings and decorations lose all their value and interest and are hardly anymore noticed, just like the pictures on your walls. And if one gets tired of watching sunsets, fireworks, waterfalls, broiling rivers, serene lakes, magical forests, mountain peaks, and fields of flowers, one is in danger of losing one's lust for life and may become bored, numb, and unable to enjoy anything much, and perhaps only lives because death seems so fearful. And like one who loses the desire for sex, or even the possibility of laughing, and lives humorlessly, with little or no interests, how flat, grey, and stale life would become. A world without women, indeed might be easier, if not drearier, as would be life without color or music. So many of the things that we find joy in, not to mention perhaps the most popular joy of all which might be computer games, that is, living in a virtual reality, where one can avoid all the unpleasantries, like pain, heat, cold, uncomfortableness in a word, and any real dangers, and enjoy all the amenities of a superficial life. I never play computer games, though I might if I were a child. I prefer the nitty-gritty of real life, dirt in my hands and all that, the challenges and pains of living (up to a point). Every day something either disappears or breaks. I don't know if that happens to everybody or just me. Life is a mystery for me. It is filled with mysteries, from micro to cosmic, from serious to mundane. Who is robbing me? Who is breaking my things, are small ones, relatively mundane, yet important. A lot of things also just seem to fall apart, to just stop. Which goes to prove that you don't have to be alive to die. A good philosopher squeezes meaning out of everything, finding philosophical gems among the everyday clusterfucks of our lives, and just like a policeman sees everyone as a possible criminal, and every painter is generally much more tuned into color and all the beauty everywhere, and perhaps the best artists can see beauty in what is generally considered ugly, I see the humor in everything and have to be careful not to laugh out loud at funerals. And now I small digression: I would prefer people would pretty much keep their religious beliefs to themselves and not align with any particular religion, but to break from the conventional ideas of "God" and create their own unique theories of existence and all that it entails, the entrails, along with their end tales. My unique spiritual path, I call Dog, and I am not a dog lover, though I can appreciate them, but prefer to keep my distance, and let others pet them. Dogs seem to love to be touched. I don't like the sound of dogs barking. It seems so intrusive, like they don't care anything about the tranquility one might be enjoying, or the conversation, or music, in this way, it is as inconsiderate as cigarette smokers and people who leave their cars running while you are eating at an outdoor cafe. It makes me imagine that I am too poetic, too sensitive, for cities and almost life in general. But what I try and always forget to do, is to be grateful whenever I am enjoying a moment at a streetside cafe, and there is no dog barking, no car running, and no addicted buffoon smoking nearby. These are beautiful moments, and I like to believe that if and when I ever get to the point that I will be undisturbed by any of these aforementioned inconsiderations, I will pronounce myself enlightened, or numb. If you are in a hurry for me to get to the point, take a deep breath and remember, happiness is all about the journey, not just the end. But to return to the point, what was the point? Things breaking, the many mysteries we must accept, how humor and most things everywhere are constantly being overlooked by the solemn masses, how inconsiderate dogs and most people seem to be? Many things seem pointless, but how often do you encounter something like this, so pointful (a new word, perhaps?) No, I googled it, "Full of point or substance". So to be so full of points is not necessarily a bad thing, that is unless you are a corona virus. In regards to the point of things being overlooked. I could say almost the same thing about breathing. We take so much for granted, "time rubs off novelty like friction", I always like to say. If you could hardly breathe and somehow your nasal passages miraculously cleared, how much joy you might have breathing each breath, but being that we are so used to breathing, it is entirely taken for granted and the joy of breathing fresh air is lost, especially to people who prefer to smoke in the open air. And just as billionaires become so accustomed to luxury that at some points it becomes commonplace and loses its allure. Like living in the palace of Versailles long enough that all the exquisite paintings and decorations lose all their value and interest and are hardly anymore noticed, just like the pictures on your walls. And if one gets tired of watching sunsets, fireworks, waterfalls, broiling rivers, serene lakes, magical forests, mountain peaks, and fields of flowers, one is in danger of losing one's lust for life and may become bored, numb, and unable to enjoy anything much, and perhaps only lives because death seems so fearful. And like one who loses the desire for sex, or even the possibility of laughing, and lives humorlessly, with little or no interests, how flat, grey, and stale life would become. A world without women, indeed might be easier, if not drearier, as would be life without color or music. So many of the things that we find joy in, not to mention perhaps the most popular joy of all which might be computer games, that is, living in a virtual reality, where one can avoid all the unpleasantries, like pain, heat, cold, uncomfortableness in a word, and any real dangers, and enjoy all the amenities of a superficial life. I never play computer games, though I might if I were a child. I prefer the nitty-gritty of real life, dirt in my hands and all that, the challenges and pains of living (up to a point).
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