Arturas Vaitaitis (varturas) wrote,
Arturas Vaitaitis
varturas

Measuring life

The art of eloquently expressing your thoughts is invariably linked to the passion for the language. The simple desire to conceive, bear and spawn a creation of your delirious mind is not enough. One got to have the love for words falling into the order of sentences and phrases forming pages independently of their meaning. Sometimes this obsession is called talent; sometimes it is not.

What is not a waste of time? How one could differentiate useful things we do throught our lifes from absolutely useless. What is more praiseworthy to be a hungry artist and to craft long-lived creations or to be a hard working someone and craft and raise children? I personaly would prefer both, but in reality life is too short to walk both paths, so people who have a luxury of a choice have to walk only one way.

Life is beautiful and strange, we just stop noticing it sooner or later. I guess it’s the property of our human brain not to waste it is valuable resources on things that are not crucial for the survival of species, as dreaming and wondering, observation and reflection. I am grateful to god and nature that we are sophisticated enough to trick our own nature and develop, on the basis of pur primitive senses and instincts, substantially more complicated constructs of thought that serve no other purpose than existing without purpose. But even these constructs only survive if we could find them useful. When we are not hungry and immediate wish for copulation is satisfied we seek for pleasant sounds and pretty pictures, theater, books, paintings, art galeries, opera houses. Sometimes I want to hit my head on the wall to scramble my brain away from this routine way of thinking, erase my programmed self and start seing world once more for the first time just like I did as a child.

We are living in a dream world, world of illusions. Illusion of friendship, of love, illusion that our life has a purpose, illusion of moving froward, living forever and conquering the nature. Those illusions are close to the heart and peaceful to the mind. I only hope that death is also an illusion.
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