Unbearable lightness?

The idea of eternal return is a mysterious one..

If every second of our lives recurs an infinite number of times, we are nailed to eternity as Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross. It is a terrifying prospect. In the world of eternal return the weight of unbearable responsibility lies heavy on every move we make. That is why Nietzsche called the idea of eternal return the heaviest of burdens (das schwerste Gewicht).
If eternal return is the heaviest of burdens, then our lives can stand out against it in all their splendid lightness.
But is heaviness truly deplorable and lightness splendid?

The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.
Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant.
What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?

~MILAN KUNDERA

Grey ism:On Desire

There's something to be said about a glass half full. About knowing when to say when. I think it's a floating line. A barometer of need and desire. It's entirely up to the individual. And depends on what's being poured. Sometimes all we want is a taste. Other times there's no such thing as enough, the glass is bottomless. And all we want, is more.

Grey ism:Whats Time!

Time takes pleasure in kicking our asses. For even the strongest of us it seems to play tricks. Slowing down... hovering... until it freezes. Leaving us stuck in a moment — unable to move in one direction or the other.
Time flies.
Time waits for no man.
Time heals all wounds.
All any of us wants is more time.
Time to stand up. Time to grow up. Time to let go.


Time.

In the end...

In the end, Mr. Cole...
...we all get cured of our sentiments.
Those whom life doesn't cure...
...death will.

~All the pretty horses

Grey ism: On Adulthood

After careful consideration and many sleepless nights, here’s what I've decided. There's no such thing as a grown-up. We move on, we move out, we move away from our families and form our own. But the basic insecurities, the basic fears and all those old wounds just grow up with us. And just when we think life and circumstances have forced us truly to become an adult, your mother says something like that. Or worse, something like that. We get bigger, we get taller, we get older. But, for the most part, we're still a bunch of kids, running around the playground, trying desperately to fit in.

I've heard that it’s possible to grow up, I've just never met anyone who’s actually done it. Without parents to defy, we break the rules we make for ourselves. We throw tantrums when things don’t go our way. We whisper secrets with our best friend, in the dark. We look for comfort where we can find it. And we hope against all logic, against all experience, like children, we never give up hope.

LIFE!

Life is like a blackman’s left butt-its neither fair nor right

Grey ism: On Growing up

"There comes a point in your life when you're officially an adult. Suddenly, you're old enough to vote, drink, and engage in other adult activities. Suddenly, people expect you to be repsonsible, serious... a grown up. We get taller, we get older. But do we ever really grow up?

In some ways we grow up. We have families, we get married, divorced, but for the most part, we still have the same problems that we did when we were fifteen. No matter how much we grow taller, grow older, we are still forever stumbling, forever wondering, forever young."

HUSH

Can't even shout, can't even cry.

The gentlemen are coming by.

Looking in windows, knocking on doors.

They need to take seven, and they might take yours.

Can't call to Mom, can't say a word.

You're gonna die-a-screaming, but you won't be heard.

PS-Just love the rhyme *smirks*

well said my friend!

• "The world is grown so bad, that wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch".

• "If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?".

• "As he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him"

• "Everyone can master a grief but he that has it".

• "He kill'd my father, and for that,
  I, his sole son, send him to heaven.
  Why this is reward, not revenge. "

• "O, from this time forth,
  My thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth."

Grey ism: On Addiction

"It's shocking how many kinds of addiction exist. It would be too easy if it were just drugs and booze and cigarettes. I think the hardest part of kicking a habit is wanting to kick it. I mean, we get addicted for a reason, right? Often, too often, things that start out as just a normal part of your life at some point cross the line to obsessive, compulsive, out of control. It's the high we're chasing, the high that makes everything else fade away.
The thing about addiction is it never ends well, because eventually, whatever it is that was getting us high stops feeling good and starts to hurt. Still, they say you don’t kick the habit until you hit rock bottom, but how do you know when you’re there? Because no matter how badly a thing is hurting us, sometimes letting it go hurts even worse."

quotes

"Love is.It just is."

"Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice."

“MAN GROWS USED TO EVERYTHING, THE SCOUNDREL”

"42"

"A plague on both your houses"

Songs About Drinks-1

One Tequila
Two Tequila
Three Tequila

Floor!

Five Tequila
Six Tequila
Seven Tequila

Morgue!

Insulting with elegance!

Hippopotamus-T.S.Eliot

THE broad-backed hippopotamus

Rests on his belly in the mud;

Although he seems so firm to us

He is merely flesh and blood.

Flesh-and-blood is weak and frail,

Susceptible to nervous shock;

While the True Church can never fail

For it is based upon a rock.

The hippo's feeble steps may err

In compassing material ends,

While the True Church need never stir

To gather in its dividends.

The 'potamus can never reach

The mango on the mango-tree;

But fruits of pomegranate and peach

Refresh the Church from over sea.

At mating time the hippo's voice

Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,

But every week we hear rejoice

The Church, at being one with God.

The hippopotamus's day

Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;

God works in a mysterious way--

The Church can sleep and feed at once.

I saw the 'potamus take wing

Ascending from the damp savannas,

And quiring angels round him sing

The praise of God, in loud hosannas.

Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean

And him shall heavenly arms enfold,

Among the saints he shall be seen

Performing on a harp of gold.

He shall be washed as white as snow,

By all the martyr'd virgins kist,

While the True Church remains below

Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.

LOL

I HEARTILY ACCEPT the motto,

I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.

The above paragraph is from the final chapter of Walden, Conclusion.
I can never tread the path chosen by Thoreau ,at the same time can't help but be mystified by his passion. To adopt his thoughts ,even for a few hours is a delight in itself.

The first few hours succeeding my encounter with Civil Disobedience, were blissfully spent on examining one single man's freedom. Strange as it may seem, more than his beliefs it was his freedom from uncertainty that haunted me. There lived a man who was certain, certain enough to perform an experiment of his life. Even more intriguing is the aspect of conclusion ,he actually understood the ends of his experiment. I would be lying if i said i haven't envied Thoreau for This Freedom!

In my idealistic vision, Thoreau went ahead and found answer to his doubts.His passion had led him to his way as desolate as it might have been, and in the end he had answers. How i wish i can be so sure,not of my beliefs but at least the paths on which i can find them! I do not wish to categorize his character, its his end not mine.A glimpse of his peace would be just fine though :)

I am sure over time i will disagree with Thoreau on various aspects and i am looking forward to that time. For that would mean i have experimented with rules and lived a life of my definition.For that would have meant a moment of freedom!

LINKS
WALDEN
CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE

PS- This whole contemplation was triggered by the wonderful Into the Wild and the song "hard sun"!

- + -

When a good person dies, there should be an impact on the world.

Somebody should notice.

Somebody should be upset.

and the world is a stage

“Excuse me Sir, Are you an actor?”

“Aren’t we all?”

gilmored!

[Richard hears from his mother at Friday night dinner.]
Emily: [So] you were on the phone…
Richard: Long distance.
Lorelai: God?
Richard: London.
Lorelai: God lives in London?
Richard: My mother lives in London.
Lorelai: Your mother is God?
Richard: Lorelai…
Lorelai: So, God is a woman.
Richard: Lorelai…
Lorelai: And a relative! That's so cool. I am gonna totally ask for favors.
Richard: Make her stop.
Rory: Oh, if I could.
Lorelai: I still can't get over that I'm related to God. It's gonna make getting Madonna tickets so much easier.

Lorelai: I hate when I'm an idiot and I don't know it. I like to be aware of my idiocy, to really revel in it, to take pictures. I missed a prime Christmas card opportunity.

Lorelai: This is amazing chicken, Mom. I mean it, really great.
Emily: Thank you, Lorelai.
Lorelai: It's like super-chicken. I bet it could fly. Have you tried tossing it out the window?

Lorelai: I'll be in in a minute.
Luke: Who are you talking to?
Lorelai: My other two personalities.

Lorelai: Hey, I should bring steak sauce, right?
Rory: For what?
Lorelai: Pizza.
Rory: I just got back from Italy.
Lorelai: So?
Rory: So they'd shoot you in Italy for that.
Lorelai: But this is America, where we unapologetically bastardize other countries' cultures in a gross quest for moral and military supremacy.
Rory: I forgot. Bring on the imperialistic condiments.

Rory: I have never seen Grandma so singularly obsessed about a piece of clothing.
Lorelai: Not since I wore my "Gas, Grass, Or Ass — No One Rides For Free" T-shirt to the Junior League spring tea.

Lorelai: Ok we gotta make sure we got everything on the list. Rory read out the list.
Rory: Beer.
Girl: Check.
Rory: More beer.
Lorelai: Check.
Rory: Pretzels and beer.
Girl: Check.
Rory: Various chocolately treats. Alternative alcohol for those who don't like beer, and beer.
Girl: Check.