He got back from his work and collapsed on to his couch. The way he fell on the couch seemed like he thought it was the entrance to the pit of freedom after all. The pit of non-existence. A death so severe and painful that no living object, place,animal or person can make him feel that way.
As he gathered his thoughts, and balancing on his ass for that matter, he realized he did not have them in plural except for the thought counting as his realization.
"Being Human. Stop."
This collective metaphysical phrase repeated throughout his brain, body and soul and was making him to want to stop it all. The noise. The conflict. The despair. The impermanence.The freedom to choose. What is ever defined appropriately in life? Except for the fact that you will one day die. Your mortality has been chosen for you, the one thing you cannot chose and have no control over. Or is it? Is control ever possible on anything?
The question that remains to be answered is this : Is dying worth trying your life on? Some people have a filter, a processing unit called "Intellectual Deception" in their minds. The instant I realize I want to deceive, or when I am in the process of deceiving, I can easily stop it. But, what if the only way you want to think is self-deception? Then where is truth, lies, good or bad? Where does that leave any room for something to be understood?
Once, a creative teacher had said "The questions remain the same, only the answers keep changing". The problem is questions remain. The answers come and go.
The only real answer is to this question-
Question: Will you one day die?
Answer: Yes.
From this singular concept of death, there arises a billion questions about life and its premises, context, meaning and structure. But life is not a mathematical problem, it only has a metamathematical solution.
As he gathered his thoughts, and balancing on his ass for that matter, he realized he did not have them in plural except for the thought counting as his realization.
"Being Human. Stop."
This collective metaphysical phrase repeated throughout his brain, body and soul and was making him to want to stop it all. The noise. The conflict. The despair. The impermanence.The freedom to choose. What is ever defined appropriately in life? Except for the fact that you will one day die. Your mortality has been chosen for you, the one thing you cannot chose and have no control over. Or is it? Is control ever possible on anything?
The question that remains to be answered is this : Is dying worth trying your life on? Some people have a filter, a processing unit called "Intellectual Deception" in their minds. The instant I realize I want to deceive, or when I am in the process of deceiving, I can easily stop it. But, what if the only way you want to think is self-deception? Then where is truth, lies, good or bad? Where does that leave any room for something to be understood?
Once, a creative teacher had said "The questions remain the same, only the answers keep changing". The problem is questions remain. The answers come and go.
The only real answer is to this question-
Question: Will you one day die?
Answer: Yes.
From this singular concept of death, there arises a billion questions about life and its premises, context, meaning and structure. But life is not a mathematical problem, it only has a metamathematical solution.
