A washed-out vision,
Puzzled into shades of neutral,
We live in gray world,
Unmoored from the distraction of vibrant colors,
Captivated by the texture.
The past, nonexistent,
The future, unmoored from reality and irreality,
What will be, will be right now extending into the present,
Forever trapped in the concept of nothingness,
Ascending into a good day,
Descending into the good night.
A restless creative mind, scatterbrained with curiosity and ruminating fecundity.
Where to look? What to see? Which to internalize and reinvent?
The window’s aperture compels focus, into an adventure that forces you to look outside your own existence.
I walked through woods, botanical gardens, and autumnal light-filled streets spotting the hybridity of green and colored plants, swamps, leaves, and vines trying to grasp a sense of texture that brings a sense of play to the air.
The peaceful taste of daily experience relaxes the texture of the human mind.
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If you’re never wrong, you’ll never be right. Rightness is a function of the mistakes you make.
If you’re not making a mistake, you’re making a mistake. Failure is just another data point.
Bottling stress only exacerbates it. Writes psychologist Susan David: “When you say, “I’m stressed,” you conflate your whole self (I am = all of me) with the emotion.”
Conformity relinquishes uniqueness. “Uniformity and freedom are incompatible.”
Time travelers can change the course of history with a sneeze.
Apps are short-term solutions. You can’t medicate your problems away with them, nor Adderall for that matter.
A start is means nothing without the finish. Said Garp, “You only grow by coming to the end of something and by beginning something else.”
Doing good can be problematic. Teju Cole quotes John Berger: “A singer may be innocent; never the song.”
And so forth.
The moment we think we’re more important than others is a sign of our own negligibility. We are tiny nothingness in the grand scheme of things; a small piece of Earth’s plastic puzzle. Our form is temporary.
I, you, me, us — we are all equally important. What separates people is how they perceive themselves. ‘I think therefore I am,’ begs to be noticed.
There’s no escaping the potential of the imagination. We all have grand desires. But sometimes the fantasy was meant to be lived out by someone else. We’re all born naked and famous, the latter is just not distributed equally. I am, we are, you are us, you, me, and I.
A slow and steady effort wins the race,
An endless drip leaves a bucket of water,
A thousand pixels create a picture,
A worthy pursuit builds up over time,
A life well lived contains struggle,
A journey unfolds into an eventuality.