theendlessknot

putting thoughts into words regarding the entangled state of mind which is my existence

Palace of Westminster

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Palace of Westminster

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Existentialism and Careers

27+

When we think of who we are, we are thinking about a consciousness loosely floating on top of the reality we have created from external stimuli. This consciousness is what we think of when we identify ourselves. We are the construction and organization of all of these external stimuli through the lens of our genetically channeled interpretation. This gives us a new way of interpreting the meaning of “life” itself.

First of all, we must find out as much as we can from all of these stimuli. This will allow us to make better judgements. In terms of careers, this is being done by empirical scientists.

Next, we should accept that the mind is not part of this physical world and can not be treated as such. It doesn’t exist in a particular location. It is a complex reaction of chemicals guided by hormones. We are that reaction. Our mind doesn’t exist in…

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Escapism

I think it’s time I did some more writing again. There’s been something there which has just been simmering in my mind for quite some time. I think there’s something difficult in knowing that some people just run away from today’s world before giving themselves a chance to find their place. I see it as a conflict which takes place more and more every day. What’s troubling is that there’s really no escape at the end of the road, despite how much one might like there to be one. Whether it’s a religious conviction, an immersion into creating one’s art, a pair of headphones, a really good book or wherever else you might go to lose yourself, it doesn’t seem to accomplish much of anything if one doesn’t ensure that one is marking one’s trail, looking back to see that there is a clear foothold to step back on to to return to the grind house which is reality.

Escapism is a dead end road.

There’s no easier way to say it, because it’s true. Rather than being dogmatic about it, though, I would argue it in this way: Even if one truly were to escape into that which brings him/her the most comfort, this peace would more or less equate to some sort of forlorn stupor, which wouldn’t manage to have any demonstrable impact on one’s own sensibilities – making it a callous sort of self-debilitation. What I mean here is that if the goal of escapism is to decrease one’s stress in life, by decreasing one’s level of self-consciousness, then there is a divide – a wall – being put up which others perceive you to be building between them, which, in turn, causes them to feel distant from you. Eventually, if one pulls one’s self away by wide enough of a margin, then one will irrevocably defeat the very goal which one had set out to pursue; one’s self will be all that one has left, given the right amount of time and enduring number of blank stares.

The psychology is not very simple, and I won’t necessarily claim to know it off-hand, but it’s obvious that people don’t connect well with people who they think are self-absorbed. After all, there’s nothing really there on the other side reaching out to connect with them. But what kills me is trying to relate to someone like this anyway, when I know in all honesty that there’s just nothing I can really do if they won’t help him/herself. At the same time that this is tragic, I feel like it’s a growing pain that one needs to go through in order to realize one’s self’s true value. A value which helps consolidates one’s self and others into a community, or network, instead of a collection of disparate islands which one finds one’s self drifting between during one’s day.

So don’t try to lose yourself too much, or you’ll actually get what you want. There are plenty of people out there willing to talk you out of yourself, and frankly, that’s a good thing.


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Le silence du bruit tombe encore

Je sens une marée dans un visage

Il ne sait pas comment respirer

Mais c’est comme ça qu’il me l’y souffle

Près

 

 

 

 

Ensuite loin

 

Ma tête ne reste pas sur la voile du bateau

Il n’y a pas le sol où je vis

 

Combien de fois me doit essayer quitter du bois?

J’accepte qu’est-ce qui se passe

Mon oncle peut ouvrir le fenêtre

Mais personne ne vit au Fond du Lac

Où des familles, des oiseaux nagent

Et l’appellent un pays qui les sert avec de bonne grâce