Arbitrary
There are no lighthouses on my side of the world.
In James Joyce's The Dubliners, the stories are all connected by similar motifs: failed patriarchs, oppression via the Catholic Church, England's brooding over Ireland, and so on. And while I cannot relate to these themes personally, the theme of paralysis, figuratively speaking, is what I inhaled deepest from the stories of Joyce. All the stories focus on someone who is in a place - be it physical or mental - in which he cannot escape. In some ways, I've always felt that.
Yet I laugh at these things! One of the few joys I experience comes in my strong belief that life is arbitrary; that things don't happen for a reaon. That all these wonderful moments we experience, and even what some would call miracles, all are physiological functions that can be broken down to the simplest sparks and flinches in our brains and within our blood. So I secretly laugh at hurricabefnes and the deaths of loved ones because before me are the confused and the distraught - not for death itself, but the lack of understanding they have as to why such a thing could happen. My only why is this: Why does there need to be a why? Why why?
Most people I know find the thought of existence as being arbitrary to be depressing. For me, however, it may be the only satisfying conclusion. It tells me that we have only ourselves to rely on, and that's quite a statement if you take time to consider it. To even begin to think of how incredible the human species is can be dizzying. Where to begin? And yet if we attribute our greatness to a soul or something greater, it speaks less of us. At least that is how I see it.
Yeah.
Alex
In James Joyce's The Dubliners, the stories are all connected by similar motifs: failed patriarchs, oppression via the Catholic Church, England's brooding over Ireland, and so on. And while I cannot relate to these themes personally, the theme of paralysis, figuratively speaking, is what I inhaled deepest from the stories of Joyce. All the stories focus on someone who is in a place - be it physical or mental - in which he cannot escape. In some ways, I've always felt that.
Yet I laugh at these things! One of the few joys I experience comes in my strong belief that life is arbitrary; that things don't happen for a reaon. That all these wonderful moments we experience, and even what some would call miracles, all are physiological functions that can be broken down to the simplest sparks and flinches in our brains and within our blood. So I secretly laugh at hurricabefnes and the deaths of loved ones because before me are the confused and the distraught - not for death itself, but the lack of understanding they have as to why such a thing could happen. My only why is this: Why does there need to be a why? Why why?
Most people I know find the thought of existence as being arbitrary to be depressing. For me, however, it may be the only satisfying conclusion. It tells me that we have only ourselves to rely on, and that's quite a statement if you take time to consider it. To even begin to think of how incredible the human species is can be dizzying. Where to begin? And yet if we attribute our greatness to a soul or something greater, it speaks less of us. At least that is how I see it.
Yeah.
Alex