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Musings that fluctuate between pragmatism and abstraction.

— somber ink —
Not the why, but the how.

More often than not, it is not a challenge, a worry or a fear that is problematic in our lives, but our perception of it and the way we might internalize it in the shape of negative feelings and toxic self-criticism. Art, philosophy and psychotherapy teach and remind us that we are not alone, and that recognizing life’s absurdity, its painful truths and our common suffering is not only freeing, but can (through introspection and the acquisition of wisdom) be very empowering and liberating. I find that thought healing.

We are the authors of our own lives. The new chapters I have in mind are too wonderful not to be explored. No writer’s block here.

We are the authors of our own lives. The new chapters I have in mind are too wonderful not to be explored. No writer’s block here.

Every concept and maxim is a complete abstraction until experience shapes it, gives it an identity and colors it with its understanding.

— personal aphorism

Life gives you two basic things: a torch and a bow with a quiver full of arrows. The torch is your passion, and the bow and arrow is your reason. You may break the bow in half and set both it and yourself on fire, or you may choose to quench the burning torch and rely solely on your bow. You may also choose to light up your arrows and set your obstacles aflame - always aiming forward; always overcoming.

— personal aphorism


Striving for balance, and doing so in gentler, surer and firmer steps everyday, I have learned yet another lesson: it helps immensely to be able to live in the present, to live in the moment, but without being entirely consumed by it; to know that no matter how happy or how miserable one feels in this current moment/hour/day/month, there will be another one waiting, bringing new experiences and new thoughts and feelings along with it. “Memento mori” along with a timeless outlook. Tough line to walk, but I don’t think it’s impossible.

Other people can help us learn how to love ourselves, but in the end the responsibility still falls on us as individuals. When a person doesn’t love themselves, they become a black hole: no matter how much love, attention, affection and care they are given, it’s never enough; it all goes to waste. True love of the self, love from the self - that is what is necessary for it to overflow and include another human being in one’s heart.

— personal aphorism

Never feel guilty for thinking or feeling too deeply or too intensely. Never listen to those who like to put things in neat little boxes, trying to categorize you and fit you into molds you can’t ever be comfortable in. Never feel ashamed for being sensitive or for being rational and philosophically detached. Never apologize for being a complete human being. If people are either blinded by your light or completely oblivious to it, it means they are not worthy of being in your life. Choose your friends and loved ones wisely. Let them light up your life and return the favor. Eliminate what drains your energy and holds you back. Strive for balance and inner peace, and the rest will follow.

Keep moving forward.

— personal aphorism

On asceticism

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.

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.

- Hermes

Do not conflate compassion and weakness. It is only true strength that brings compassion. Weakness leads to hatred and a vengeful spirit.

— personal aphorism