mudflat texture

There has been too much time since my last post. What is time? It is the gray webbed matter past which we try to see what may be beyond. It is an introspective matrix through which we color our future (our passage toward that which we will).

That’s why it goes by so fast. The self tries to make sense of the passage of the self. Either you have a goal or you don’t. When you don’t have a goal it is because you are observing what is already passing before your eyes. Perhaps you analyze, try to place in context. Perhaps you sit dumb-founded, marveling or just wondering at the things the way they are (or seem to be).

If you do have a goal, it seems to take forever to get there; you use external yardsticks to measure your progress. You need a calendar, a computer program, a personal secretary, friends, school, etc.

If you don’t have a goal, you are persuaded to feel foolish and to hate yourself.

Time really does not exist. It has been proven.

But society demands a timeline. A resume, a CV, list of accomplishments, a work history. You learn the game, and you play it. With varying degrees of satisfaction. You write down the sequence of events and store it in a cool, dark place.

What really satisfies is not judging yourself. Because there is no objective measure of success.

Why are we here?

There can be only one explanation. To entertain one another. And ourselves.


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