The bees just do what they are supposed to. They move to their soul doppelgangers all the while doing what they are supposed to. They dance with one of these flowers and then move to another, forgetting the one they just met. And they do that on and on, every day because it feels right. But it's just that exactly that creates their world. They just do what they are supposed to and that's alright.
It's bizarre to have a fixation, this little thought burrowing it's one, feeling more prominent than any other. It's an itch to follow with with your finger, indulging it, feeling good about reaching it. I figure that's what an obsession is. It's that reward at a self created thought that is maddening at times.
And it's a bit scary, the thought of an obsession. At some point, it gets to be too overwhelming waiting for the reward, the satisfaction at getting it. So then we create false rewards, imagined rewards to slake it for a while. But that in itself fuels the obsession.
A natural solution, the only inevitable solution seems to break a habit, to starve it until it screams but finally, it does disappear, leaving a scar, hopefully, a temporary one.
Is it better to want something so maddeningly than never know what it means to want? Again, perhaps a state of flux and confusion is the natural state but that in itself would be an aberration of nature where everything moves to order.
So then does that mean in order to feel alive, you shake the natural order, defining what is natural but shaking up the can to make sure that sense of flatlining exists?
That means, rocking your own boat is a way of making sure the boat really is there, the empirical equivalent of knocking on the wood in a dream to see if it sounds the way it should.
If you stop feeling confused, do you flat line and find no meaning in being?
That last line reads like the back of a matchbook cover advertising a crash course in philosophy
I'm fucking exhausted. And I read new music better than I have before. Again, like he said, I was over thinking the note, second guessing myself without allowing myself to just read the damn note, the same one that would always be a B no matter how many times i read it to the point of misreading it and tripping over the notes, not in the good way either. So in over thinking it, I was misreading it....belaboring over it rather than enjoying it and moving at my own pace
It's bizarre how what I want to say is becoming apparent in what I'm watching. Perhaps if I watch the movie years down the line, other things will show up, like patterns in a painting, just held to a different light
It's confusing right now, well, was because there were so many many options. Then to get a fixed idea removes all those other threads, instead of seeing a million of them, all of them with possibilities but too many too experience, that when you get one idea to focus on, everything else, including the confusion melts away
Perhaps that is why people give credence to the idea of the perfect one for them