understand life

just don’t think too much about everything let it go .live happy and enjoy your little time in this sad world .nothing in life worth to live sad for it .so fight every bad thoughts and don’t give up as long as you stay in this earth :))

definitely

I was not quite fourteen that awful morning when my mother awoke me by squeezing my toe. She said to me, “Don’t smile, your father is dead.”

Thirty-nine years later I still remember that morning vividly. I remember that I didn’t cry, and that by younger brother did. I cried later.

One uncle came by and helped himself to my father’s tools. Years later while visiting, I saw my father’s electric drill on the dirt floor of my uncle’s garage. I never forgave him.

I sometimes wonder about the connections between love and loss. Both rend the heart deeply and leave scars which never heal. This is where it isn’t fair being a male in this society. I ache with the loss of my father in ways that continue to surprise me – there is so much about him that I’ll never know and never understand. I used to get angry at him for having deserted me and leaving me alone to shoulder the burden of being the man of the house. I hated it when fools called me that.

I didn’t go to my father’s funeral. I understood death, but I did not understand the ceremony which surrounded death. Staying home with a friend we played catch in the yard and talked. He was worried about me and my lack of reaction. It was kind of him and perhaps the best therapy I could have asked for – had I asked.

When my mother remarried less than a year later she married an alcoholic a-hole. She later told me that she felt that we (my brother and I) needed a man in the house. Well, that would have been nice but she picked a drunk.

It was a lovely June day when my father was buried. Then cars began arriving. Aunts, uncles, my father’s friends, my mother’s friends, people I didn’t know, cousins all descended upon our small home. My mother shooshed me inside and told me to put on some clean clothes: I didn’t have any. In all the confusion of death and ceremony the laundry had piled up.

Casseroles appeared from the thin air. Cakes. Pies. Sliced ham. Food everywhere. My mother who had just lost her husband now had to play hostess. Something else for which I resented my selfish family.

I felt that everyone was aware that I was wearing dirty pants, though I think I had a clean shirt. My father was freshly buried and I worried about my pants.

So what does all of this rambling mean? I don’t know. At 53 I should have figured it out by now but have not yet done so. I fear that time is running out and it will all remain a mystery.

this is a very interesting topic! lol

I won’t say a lot. But I will say that if you stop judging people, allowing people to be as diverse as this world is… if you remove that stick that measures people against you… then life suddenly becomes good.

Oh you know, it’s the usual. Going in circles with questions and thoughts. Going no where. Life is just too complex.

I wonder, when a butterfly leaves the safety of its cocoon, does it know how beautiful it has become? Or does it still see itself as a caterpiller?

I wonder, why i’m so full of these endless thoughts, about the way i feel inside and why i cant ever get it right?

I wonder, if I can make anyone understand and there be no reason to think twice?

I wonder, if i changed, would my heart still race or would it march to a new beat?

I wonder, if i suddenly went blind, would you look in to my eyes?

I wonder what happens when i grow old and all my stories have been told?

I wonder why i wonder? I wonder to understand life.

The question is not when will we die, but how will we live? Think, how do you see yourself? All the struggles you’ve had and overcome, all the situations you’ve faced are somehow different than anyone else. Perhaps I’m a caterpillar who doesn’t realize that I am a beautiful butterfly. To live is not to understand life, but understand yourself. Life is not objective it is subjective. You’ve probabaly heard it before, but life is what you make it. Sometimes the things we can’t change, end up changing us. There are so many things to wonder, there must be more to life. God, religion, self, identity, love, hate, future and past. These are things to wonder.

I wonder, can I make something of this life?

Why can my mind never quite grasp the true essence of things? How is it that people are capable of treating each other so cruelly? And what is the ultimate way to become happy? Is happiness even a possible constant?

Sometimes I think about the story of the blind men who touch different parts of an elephant and say what they think it is, “a hose,” “a couch,” “a tree” – without realizing that they are only looking at a part of the whole, and that they are incorrect. I often feel like one of those blind men. When I feel like I’ve got a grasp on things, I start to worry that maybe I’m just full of it and am really missing the larger picture of life – so I’m not really getting anything, and I’m not going anywhere.

And is it just me, or do some people really not care about understanding life as long as their immediate needs get satisfied? Because that truly baffles me, I just can’t imagine being satisfied that simply and sometimes, I wish I could.

WHAT IS LIFE??
WHY ARE WE HERE??
WHY DID GOD CHOOSE ME TO LIVE??
WHAT HAPPENS AFTER LIFE??
so confused.. so little time..

ever since i graduated, i have been trying to find what i want out of life. this always leads to a few questions, which quickly become many more and then i’m drowning in them. it took me 6 months of being a bum at home to get a grip on it. almost 10 months later i have finally started to find some direction; finally understanding the smallest scraps of this world. i still dont know what im doing but im starting to ask better questions… man, life is insane.