I’ve no use for steel anymore;
to attack or defend.
Soft skin, thick blood and a strong spine.
That’s all I need.
I won’t retreat or withdraw.
I won’t hide.
I’ll expand and extend
I’ll connect and transcend;
see the world with new eyes.
Head floating ‘twixt the clouds
feet firmly on the ground:
I’ll be a giant — only human-sized.
I’ve no use for steel anymore;
The future is unknown and the past is not a blueprint of it. All there is is now: being present in the world, taking it all in - whether pleasant or painful; rolling the dice and moving on.
Memento mori et carpe diem.
— Rollo May, existential psychologist
A new-found asceticism is to be discovered in balance. A balanced life does not attract attention, and is often thought of as boring or mediocre. Moderation through choice, however, is not mediocrity. The man with negligible limits who still chooses to moderate his passions and yet still be kind and thoughtful to himself is one who manages to find the fine line between military discipline and tame, gentle wisdom.
— Albert Camus, The Myth Of Sisyphus
— Albert Camus
— Herman Hesse - Steppenwolf
Something I wrote about three years ago.
It is quite strange, I must say; being an old soul in young flesh.
It feels like serving penance for seven lifetimes past. Not allowed to abandon all that is life or to sleepily let go and rest in Charon’s cold embrace, one is forced to suffer passion, hope, youth, experience and disappointment.
Another way to put it would be like this: wanting to sleep under the summer sun, resting cosily within the shadow of a tall, old, thick-leaved tree, only to be awoken every five minutes from the poke of a tiny grinning devil’s scorching trident. It is my assumption that a great part of those who have died young must have experienced the same anguish and hopelessness. I imagine death to have been the sweetest, most soothing balm for their old, tired souls.
I began life with the highest, most absolute expectations and a fire quenched only by creation. Destruction and disconnection were my only friends thereafter, while I satisfied my pessimistic, misanthropic high. It is only as of late that I have come to entertain the idea that perhaps my only purpose in this life is neither to create nor to destroy, but to reflect, disprove and improve; to remain in the shadows, observe and let my judgement echo through the minds of others.
Only two decades and a half in this cloak made of flesh, my spirit grumbles with a century-old voice. Bright-eyed with excitement facing the unknown, yet burdened by wisdom that would put sages to shame. Fully aware of my insignificance, bearing the strongest confidence in my potential, I take a seat beside the busy flow of life and wait to see how far the ripples of my will shall resonate.
I sign in wonder and despair.
Negative space. Rhythmic pauses. Pensive silence. Friendships ended. Loves forgotten. Mistakes avoided. Offers denied.
What we discard and omit speaks just as loud as what we do and what we include.”
— personal aphorism