Life is like a box of crap...er, chocolates

Life... is like a box of chocolates.

A cheap, thoughtless, perfunctory gift that nobody ever asks for. Unreturnable, because all you get back is another box of chocolates. You're stuck with this undefinable whipped-mint crap that you mindlessly wolf-down when there's nothing else left to eat. Sure, once in a while, there's a peanut butter cup, or an English toffee. But they're gone too fast, the taste is fleeting. So you end up with nothing but broken bits, filled with hardened jelly and teeth-crunching nuts, and if you're desperate enough to eat those, all you've got left... is an empty box... filled with useless, brown paper wrappers...

Just living is not enough... One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower. I arise in the morning between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.

Sometimes the only sane answer to an insane world is insanity... I hope life isn't a big joke, because I don't get it.

I was first struck by the absence of time, having dependen on it so completely as a measure of my self and my life; moving backwards into the perpetual night it consumes purpose, indeed, all passion and will. The heavy weight of my burdens which I had once borne, there's no justice or judgment without which truth is a vast... dead... hollow. Do not look into the abyss or let the abyss look into you; awaken the sleep of reason and fight the monsters within and without...

Life may have no meaning. Or even worse, it may have a meaning of which I disapprove. For there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life.

But now I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth. Time passes in moments... moments which, rushing past, define the path of a life, just as surely as they lead towards its end. How rarely do we stop to examine that path, to see the reasons why all things happen, to consider whether the path we take in life is our own making, or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed. But what if we could stop, pause to take stock of each precious moment before it passes? Might we then see the endless forks in the road that have shaped a life? And, seeing those choices, choose another path?

The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched.

I don't have approximate answers and possible beliefs and different degrees of certainty about different things, which I'm not absolutely sure of anything, and many things I don't know anything about, such as whether it means anything to ask why we're here and what the question might mean. I might think about it a little bit, but if I can't figure it out, then I go on to something else. But I don't have to know an answer... I feel frightened by not knowing things, by being lost in the mysterious universe without having any purpose, which is the way it really is, as far I can tell, possibly.

It does frightened me.

Perhaps we are looking at this from a wrong perspective; this search for the meaning of life, the reason of God. We all have this mindset that the answers are so complex and so vast that it is almost impossible to comprehend. I think, on the contrary, that the answers are so simple; so simple that it is staring us straight in the face screaming its lungs out and yet we fail to notice it. We're looking through a telescope, searching the stars for the answer, when the answer is actually a speck of dirt on the telescope lens.