How old are you?
How tall are you?
What do you do for a living?
Easy. Mindless questions with instant answers.
But how much does it really say about a person?
How experienced are you?
How would you respond to this situation?
How do you see yourself in ten years?
Slightly better, but lacking in character and still mindless.
Says about as much as these quick measuring questions do.
Success? How much do you make?
Expertise? How many certificates do you have?
Popularity? How many likes on your posts?
Who do you want to meet?
Where do you want to go?
What are you going to eat?
That’s what I want to know. That’s what makes the person who is in front of me special to me; sounds like an overprotective parent hey? That’s love, no?
Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can’t sustain the part.
Fireflies by Robert Frost
Yet beautiful still, like growing trees,
Painting a world a bit frosty but free.
So simple, so insightful, starting one two and three.
With crawling, then running and soaring of many paces
Step by step challenging other slow racers
Till only the stars, can see our lost places.
To share that world in black and white,
To hear and touch, with taste smell and sight.
Painting colour, new minds may see.
Just, listen to me, you might find yourself free.
I want to get published. I want to show that rule-abiding isn’t the only way to success. To strive for yourself: that in itself becomes meaningful. The risks and gambles suddenly carry more weight than before. Each a new hope that can bring you closer to that day you planned. The most important thing is however, and often the most overlooked aspect, is that it’s perfectly acceptable to be wrong. To change your mind somewhere along the way; so long as it’s not a lie to protect yourself from pain.
I don’t feel at all like I’m wrong.
It’s been a while.
I think I’d like to talk about something that popped into my mind recently regarding Buddhism. I mean, it’s quite the amazing lifestyle that seems not to condemn others to abide by their rules, for fear of punishment; it assumes we always suffer this dukkha, which seems quite accurate.
Like, how many people can live without a moment of grief in their life?
Simple… Buddhism eliminates suffering.
But the question is how.
Helping in Hong Kong University assignments has exposed me multiple times to the concept of the four noble truths. Guidelines that seem to allow oneself to actualise to a state without any suffering. The downside is that is all seems to point to removing any detachment.
Something that’s really quite hard, and something that seems very much like dying to me. I mean, my own distinction between the living and the dead is the ability to make and act on a choice (sorry indecisive people). So if choices no longer matter then, how can one be considered living?
Some more food for my thoughts I guess.
But for now, I care.
I care for my family.
I care for my friends.
I care for all of it.
Right here. Right now.
I have an offer for you. Interested?
Thats’s it. Trade comfortable for something more colourful and come outside of those walls that box you in.
What? You will fail?
Yeah you will.
Shame and embarrassment will stalk you at every corner. From who though? Who can’t you face for failing? Your boss? Your crush? That gossiping Jerry that’d still be able to find something to complain about?
Do you just stand there? Being the sensible and playing nice in conventional. Sit high and look pretty as you look down on me from your superiority at being risk-less ordinary.
Do you stay to drown misery in whiskey? Or do you still want to try? To leave the norm and break it all.
So… my offer?
We have a fight to win.
How are you feeling?
I feel sad.
There’s a sense of loss.
And that’s all I’m really able to share with you.
Because that’s all the space that’s left on the last piece our puzzle.
Been through a few thoughts lately.
Sharing one that sticks from the times I’m writing.
Imagine two passages,
they tell the same story; portray the same feeling, and invite the same engagement.
one is 10 words
the other is a hundred
I should write for me, so, the former the preferred option.
Yet somehow, I always slip to the latter.
Too often, too much is used to paint perfection into a frame.
Unless the plan is to paint a wordy starry starry night, the point must go on.
Too many words get lost. A shadow of uneventful inky letters that clouds a story.
Read a few lines that make you think, to imagine or induce thought before leaving you to the deep abyss of a mind; their mind, your mind, some mind.
Ignore that word count and just finish the story.
Less is more.