(no subject)
It seems like every time I start to feel like I might be comfortable feeling self-confident, I get a reminder of my physical weakness and the consequent unreliability of my performance. Like, "I'm strong, I'm brilliant, and I can take on the world!" always needs a qualifier like "if I'm feeling up to it at the time." It's sad and amusing at the same time. I'm not sure whether to see it as discouraging, or a reality check.
It's like, just as I'm finding my stride, I'm forcibly reminded that I can falter.
If there is a "higher purpose" to this reminder, it had better be damn good.
Why is frailty such a theme in my life?
I have already accepted it. What more can I do? I already do my best, regardless.
The world doesn't make sense to me. Even just my own life doesn't make sense to me. It is empirically experienced, but lacks a cohesive theory.
That would be a pretty good goal to achieve - simply to understand my own life. Ambitious. A life goal.
What I will not do is grasp, and hold on to, easy answers that don't make sense, but satisfy a psychological need for answers. At least, not without acknowledging their provisional nature.
Sometimes I feel lost, adrift. Have I let go too much? Not enough? Or is my answer to be found outside the question of letting go?
If I die this moment, I have no regrets. If my future is a wasteland, at least I have the past. If I forget the past, at least I had it at the time.
It's like, just as I'm finding my stride, I'm forcibly reminded that I can falter.
If there is a "higher purpose" to this reminder, it had better be damn good.
Why is frailty such a theme in my life?
I have already accepted it. What more can I do? I already do my best, regardless.
The world doesn't make sense to me. Even just my own life doesn't make sense to me. It is empirically experienced, but lacks a cohesive theory.
That would be a pretty good goal to achieve - simply to understand my own life. Ambitious. A life goal.
What I will not do is grasp, and hold on to, easy answers that don't make sense, but satisfy a psychological need for answers. At least, not without acknowledging their provisional nature.
Sometimes I feel lost, adrift. Have I let go too much? Not enough? Or is my answer to be found outside the question of letting go?
If I die this moment, I have no regrets. If my future is a wasteland, at least I have the past. If I forget the past, at least I had it at the time.