Indeed the state of all who are preoccupied is wretched, but the most wretched are those who are toiling not even at their own preoccupations, but must regulate their sleep by another’s, and their walk by another’s pace, and obey orders in those freest of all things, loving and hating. If such people want to know how short their lives are, let them reflect how small a portion is their own.
Seneca (On the Shortness of Life pp.31-32)
Just ran into this, via. It’s not everyday that I find, or read things that immediately draw me in. I’m totally getting this book.
In the course of tonight’s unforeseen late-night website housekeeping, I managed to completely destroy a few things on my blog. It’s 1996 all over again here at Geocities and I’m putting up the equivalent perennial animated GIF that screams “Under Construction” in 16-color glory. Apparently I keep adopting tools that do not automagically correct themselves, seamlessly, and painlessly for all those concerned. Hence all the juicy errors and crap layout- the scabs of building my own fort outside the social network. I kept thinking about the mad crowd chanting the “F” word. No, I will not do Facebook because I like causing myself unnecessary pain and passionately seek the sensation of dried out eyeballs staring at the cold glow of a monitor typing code one line at a time in the middle of the night.
I hope I could say these words sooner rather than later: that I would like to invite you – dear stranger on the intarwebz – to say hello and throw me a bone on the comment system. Because a guestbook from the 90’s don’t cut it anymore, and I’m testing out a mew (metter than new) commenting system that logs you on using your social network credentials. Yes people, that means Facebook, Twitter, and of course your ATM pin.
Having just been kicked out of the office (I am forced out when store closes – mostly because I’d shit myself being alone in a warehouse that holds a lot of dark corners and flying cockroaches), I was on a hunt for a coffee shop with wifi to continue working when I came across a little detour on the island.
I followed a red tram full of Japanese tourists that turned into a small road marked “Two Lovers Point”, which sounded more exciting than the continued course of the highway. And I just realized I’ve never really gone around to explore.
There’s a little elevated outcrop where they charge $3 for an unempeded view of Tumon Bay, and the vastness of the Pacific. Of course I didn’t pay and went to a side section instead, where I found myself staring into the massive blue. The wind was blowing steadily from behind me as I leaned on the railing. I tried to look where the beach was below, but there was nothing to be seen except for several hundred feet of nothing and the gaping wide blue ocean below.
It’s a comforting and familiar experience. I remembered with arresting clarity all the moments that I found myself staring at the massiveness of the ocean from up high. The bunkerin San Francisco. Batanes. And how relieving it felt to feel so small and irrelevant.
I love how the grandness of the world easily opens itself up to those willing to stop, look, and listen. And how it guides you away from the comfort of your own mortality and the immediacy of your problems and your needs. All become inconsequential, and special at the same time.
That we are both nothing, and the entire universe, all at once.