truth be told, i think i will never be a fan of this increasing level of sensitivity that time has been injecting to my system since that wednesday, during the egyptian month of mesore, the fourth month of the season of shomu (harvest) under the chinese year of the tiger.
placing many levels of meanings on the simplest of things only complicate the matters of the mind, the soul and the heart. quoting goethe, it was as if “everything’s a metaphor.”
i am thinking if giving meaning to almost everything (as in every little bit of detail that concerns and occurs to your life) actually does make life more meaningful.
what if one day, out of sheer whim, you created an unadulterated metaphysical world intended to paint colors and smiles to somebody’s gray morning but a seemingly impenetrable wall rooted deeply on the commonly conceived reality counters you and all your intentions? shouldn’t you feel a bit shattered? should you put meaning even to the most arbitrary characters of a simple sentence? maybe not if you have a really deep connection with this person. should you just let meanings escape with each moment like that?
take off the levels of meaning and whatever has occurred will become shallow. provide yourself with the simplicity akin to ignorance and you will experience bliss.
i guess you’ll never know when the tiniest fire of under-appreciation can burn you inside.