All of it, the good, the bad, the minutiae (otherwise known as crap a.k.a important) - this cannot be my life. With all that I juggle, it never ends, and I wonder is there a purpose? Is there a divine design for a greater good? Why do we bother? Is this life, the good, the bad, the beautiful, the horrific just a symphonic chaos? I don't know, and of course my answer diverges greatly with my mood at the moment. Am I any more than a response to my physical stimuli? Is there any meaning in such a life? Is there any meaning in a series of chemical reactions? The purpose of life becomes so abstruse.
So, I wonder is there any value regardless of purpose? And I'm afraid I have to answer yes, and not just for the beautiful moments. But I'm one of those that finds beauty even in the dark and in the pain. (I'm forced to reflect at this moment that a semicolon would have performed more poetically to the eye and ear in that sentence.) While I'm no Marquis de Sade, I do think he may have been either the forerunner of Modernism or at least an icon of the human condition. For if we cannot find beauty in pain, how can we find any value or purpose in life? Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating infliction of pain.
As I ramble on through these thoughts and this day, I guess this can be my life and is my life. How much of life is what we choose? And is it the choices that bring us more pain or satisfaction? John Lennon would argue that Life is what happens to you when you are making other plans. I'm inclined to agree, and he makes a much happier philosopher than the Marquis. Maybe if I made fewer plans, life would ease up a bit? Hmm. Since I can't seem to stop biting off more than I can chew, the solution must be plastic surgery to get the mouth of Steven Tyler.
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