How often do you live in the past?
I'm fascinated by people.
The majority of the time when I talk to people, I find them caught in past moments and memories.
Tell me. The last time you talked to someone recently, did they tell you a story about the past? Were they excited, thrilled to recount and share this story? Even if it's sorrowful, you can still feel the imprint of energy in their voice when they tell the story.
How often do we seek to impress upon people the simple fact that we're alive and have existed before?
There's so much justification. We tell ourselves a thousand things to keep functioning in a given day. Not everyone's like this. But it's a common affliction. Why are we so damn afraid to simply let life be and accept who we are, and accept our surroundings?
I know this isn't making much sense.
I feel we take life for granted. Every breath you draw, every step you take, every note of music you hear, every sensory experience, every possible profound moment...they're all nothing to us. We're so numb to experience by now, it's scary.
Constantly convinced ourselves that it's normal, it's *nothing special*. We are entitled to existance and all it's wonder, and we don't *appreciate* a damn bit of it. We constantly expect MORE. Even simple joys aren't enough.
I don't really have an answer or anything to cite. There's nothing that's really spurred this line of thought on, other than the constant depression I'm trying to wake from. I don't quite understand why it's so easy to be unsatisfied with everything. Connections with other people dry out so fast to us, good things become normal, and thus, boring, in moments. And there's not a real reason for it.
We are truly privledged....will we ever be able to appreciate the simple truth that drawing breath is an honor granted to us?
--- For All The Dreamers
The majority of the time when I talk to people, I find them caught in past moments and memories.
Tell me. The last time you talked to someone recently, did they tell you a story about the past? Were they excited, thrilled to recount and share this story? Even if it's sorrowful, you can still feel the imprint of energy in their voice when they tell the story.
How often do we seek to impress upon people the simple fact that we're alive and have existed before?
There's so much justification. We tell ourselves a thousand things to keep functioning in a given day. Not everyone's like this. But it's a common affliction. Why are we so damn afraid to simply let life be and accept who we are, and accept our surroundings?
I know this isn't making much sense.
I feel we take life for granted. Every breath you draw, every step you take, every note of music you hear, every sensory experience, every possible profound moment...they're all nothing to us. We're so numb to experience by now, it's scary.
Constantly convinced ourselves that it's normal, it's *nothing special*. We are entitled to existance and all it's wonder, and we don't *appreciate* a damn bit of it. We constantly expect MORE. Even simple joys aren't enough.
I don't really have an answer or anything to cite. There's nothing that's really spurred this line of thought on, other than the constant depression I'm trying to wake from. I don't quite understand why it's so easy to be unsatisfied with everything. Connections with other people dry out so fast to us, good things become normal, and thus, boring, in moments. And there's not a real reason for it.
We are truly privledged....will we ever be able to appreciate the simple truth that drawing breath is an honor granted to us?
--- For All The Dreamers