Friday, November 11, 2016


Naturally, one would like to be explained to, to believe that the reasons as to why things happen to us will be unveiled in the immediate future... because otherwise things do not make 'sense', it adds up to our anxieties and discontent. But life's not like that, we don't always get explanations, no great reveals, no nothing. Life isn't rational (to our human faculties), it is not a persona we can hold accountable and make demands to, assign faults to. The question of faith fits here, the cupped palm that holds us. The irrationality of life makes for piety, for belief but that's not my subject matter right now. I'm talking about the whys, the need for answers when there is none to be gotten.

It's futile, but it's there, niggling away at the back of my mind.

Then, there is the question of self-autonomy, one's Will. To what extent are we capable of governing our actions? Is it exponential to one's belief that one is in control? or maybe we're not supposed to even grasp at the illusion of control, rather, to be bouyant and surf the waves that buffets us like flotsam at sea. Life is a journey afterall... the concept of acceptance being the great storms, trials, that visits.

I feel like anarchy is built-in into me. They call it the 'Nafs' don't they... heedlessness, always making the wrong choices, consciously so. Because sometimes I feel like I set bylaws for my heart only for it to be ripped apart, torn down, by my own self.

I can't help it. I keep wondering why I end up here, if it was by my own consent, if I did my own heart upon myself. How much of our relations to the world is voluntary, how much of it is destiny, and how much of it is pure brain chemistry?

Ultimately, the heart runs its own beat. It's not an instrument. We do not play its rhythm.

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