The Struggle is Enough
23:48
I have Sargento Part-Skim mozzarella cheese in my fridge. It has a question on the outside of it and when you peel it open, the answer is on the inside of the wrapper. The one I got either yesterday or the day before was this:
Question: What is the average lifespan of a dragonfly?
Answer: 24 hours
The one I got tonight was as follows:
Question: How long can a snail sleep without eating?
Answer: 3 years
Those all seem like superhuman feats compared to the lives of humans. Imagine fitting all the complexities of your entire life in the span of 24 hours. Or sleeping for three years without eating. So much happens in three years! But I guess that's kind of the point too. A dragonfly's life is much simpler than my own, for example. It lives that long only because it needs to live that long. The snail, it sleeps that long and waits and endures because it has to. It doesn't know how not to, so for the snail it remains an unremarkable thing.
I've been up since 5:45am. We'll say 6am just to play it safe which in and of itself isn't much of an oddity anymore for a Saturday morning. I enjoy that time much how I enjoy my late nights. Undisturbed. With nothing to distract me from myself.
I feel like I don't write as much I used to, here that is, about what's going on in my head. Part of it is because I don't have time to do it justice. But writing something, anything, is better than silence. So I'm going to try to pick this up again. The other part is that I haven't really been wanting to be very self reflective. That old existential dilemma weighing down on me. So much of what/who I've become I never could have imagined.
I don't believe everyone has a purpose. It's not something you're given or something that's hidden which you then have to find. It's something you make for yourself, piecemeal and without instructions. It's not an easy way to go about things. Failure lies squarely on my own shoulders. And there's the very distinct possibility that there may never be an actual purpose, that because there is nothing there to begin with there may never be anything there.
I brought up the myth of Sisyphus today in one of my lessons. Used it as an example of futility which is what we wanted our progress in dancing to not become: futile. But looking up some stuff on it (because I couldn't recall the myth completely, though the punishment is unforgettable) I'm brought two different things. The first is a quote from Albert Camus: "The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy." Second: I need to read The Myth of Sisyphus again.
There is an inherent absurdity to life. You either reject it, ignore it, are consumed by it or accept it. The struggle is enough. I've always thought, and still do think, that my greatest strength lies in enduring. And you know, that may not be the best thing in the world but it has gotten me to where I am. I can forge ahead and deal with situations that most would find unpleasant or untenable. But then again, like the dragonfly that lives for a day or the snail that can go without food for the years, do I just do it because I don't know any better? Is it just in the core of my make up, so much so that it would be a direct rejection of myself to do otherwise? And if that is the case, can I really call on it be a strength? When my reflexes are tested, my leg jerks because it has no choice. So I don't know if that counts. But the struggle is enough.
One of the biggest frustrations I have with how life is constructed, develops, unfolds and progresses is that there is no way to know everything. And I don't mean empirical knowledge. I mean that some questions you have about things that have happened to you will never be answered. Plain and simple. There are wholes in your own experiential knowledge that will just never be filled. That's just one of those things that have to be accepted. I hate. I want to know everything. And that might be part of why I know some much useless information that will never come in handy. It's a way of unconsciously grasping at straws.
I wrap my arms around my entire past: everything that has ever happened and anyone that has meant anything to me. I carry the ocean in a glass.
That Albert Camus quote makes me feel like I can take on the world. Ultimately, it doesn't matter then if you do find a purpose in life or not. It's all in the search. Rage and fight and claw your way into existence, into meaning. Gnash your teeth and clench your fists. Take a chance. Be bold. Jump. In the pilot episode of Kung Fu: The Legend Continues, Kwai Chang Caine says this (which I'm paraphrasing): "Move toward a destiny, not a destination." I think that applies somewhere here too.
It doesn't matter where you are at, only where you are going. And it doesn't matter if you ever get there, only that you keep on trying. Shaw, "Satisfaction is death."
Livejournal, why do I keep you alive? Because you kept me alive and still do.
I have Sargento Part-Skim mozzarella cheese in my fridge. It has a question on the outside of it and when you peel it open, the answer is on the inside of the wrapper. The one I got either yesterday or the day before was this:
Question: What is the average lifespan of a dragonfly?
Answer: 24 hours
The one I got tonight was as follows:
Question: How long can a snail sleep without eating?
Answer: 3 years
Those all seem like superhuman feats compared to the lives of humans. Imagine fitting all the complexities of your entire life in the span of 24 hours. Or sleeping for three years without eating. So much happens in three years! But I guess that's kind of the point too. A dragonfly's life is much simpler than my own, for example. It lives that long only because it needs to live that long. The snail, it sleeps that long and waits and endures because it has to. It doesn't know how not to, so for the snail it remains an unremarkable thing.
I've been up since 5:45am. We'll say 6am just to play it safe which in and of itself isn't much of an oddity anymore for a Saturday morning. I enjoy that time much how I enjoy my late nights. Undisturbed. With nothing to distract me from myself.
I feel like I don't write as much I used to, here that is, about what's going on in my head. Part of it is because I don't have time to do it justice. But writing something, anything, is better than silence. So I'm going to try to pick this up again. The other part is that I haven't really been wanting to be very self reflective. That old existential dilemma weighing down on me. So much of what/who I've become I never could have imagined.
I don't believe everyone has a purpose. It's not something you're given or something that's hidden which you then have to find. It's something you make for yourself, piecemeal and without instructions. It's not an easy way to go about things. Failure lies squarely on my own shoulders. And there's the very distinct possibility that there may never be an actual purpose, that because there is nothing there to begin with there may never be anything there.
I brought up the myth of Sisyphus today in one of my lessons. Used it as an example of futility which is what we wanted our progress in dancing to not become: futile. But looking up some stuff on it (because I couldn't recall the myth completely, though the punishment is unforgettable) I'm brought two different things. The first is a quote from Albert Camus: "The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy." Second: I need to read The Myth of Sisyphus again.
There is an inherent absurdity to life. You either reject it, ignore it, are consumed by it or accept it. The struggle is enough. I've always thought, and still do think, that my greatest strength lies in enduring. And you know, that may not be the best thing in the world but it has gotten me to where I am. I can forge ahead and deal with situations that most would find unpleasant or untenable. But then again, like the dragonfly that lives for a day or the snail that can go without food for the years, do I just do it because I don't know any better? Is it just in the core of my make up, so much so that it would be a direct rejection of myself to do otherwise? And if that is the case, can I really call on it be a strength? When my reflexes are tested, my leg jerks because it has no choice. So I don't know if that counts. But the struggle is enough.
One of the biggest frustrations I have with how life is constructed, develops, unfolds and progresses is that there is no way to know everything. And I don't mean empirical knowledge. I mean that some questions you have about things that have happened to you will never be answered. Plain and simple. There are wholes in your own experiential knowledge that will just never be filled. That's just one of those things that have to be accepted. I hate. I want to know everything. And that might be part of why I know some much useless information that will never come in handy. It's a way of unconsciously grasping at straws.
I wrap my arms around my entire past: everything that has ever happened and anyone that has meant anything to me. I carry the ocean in a glass.
That Albert Camus quote makes me feel like I can take on the world. Ultimately, it doesn't matter then if you do find a purpose in life or not. It's all in the search. Rage and fight and claw your way into existence, into meaning. Gnash your teeth and clench your fists. Take a chance. Be bold. Jump. In the pilot episode of Kung Fu: The Legend Continues, Kwai Chang Caine says this (which I'm paraphrasing): "Move toward a destiny, not a destination." I think that applies somewhere here too.
It doesn't matter where you are at, only where you are going. And it doesn't matter if you ever get there, only that you keep on trying. Shaw, "Satisfaction is death."
Livejournal, why do I keep you alive? Because you kept me alive and still do.