Ever since man has learned to give each part of the body a name, the body has given him less trouble. He has also learned that the soul is nothing more than the grey matter of the brain in action. The old duality of body and soul has become shrouded in scientific terminology, and we can laugh at it as merely an obsolete prejudice.
But just make someone who has fallen in love listen to his stomach rumble, and the unity of body and soul, that lyrical illusion of the age of science, instantly fades away.
-Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
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So I was Stumbling the web at work and came across this interesting site in Wikipedia.
Give it a go if you’ve got time to kill. Here’s a preview.
“207 BC: Chrysippus, a Greek stoic philosopher, is believed to have died of laughter after watching his drunk donkey attempt to eat figs.”
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Some mornings you effortlessly get the up-and-on feeling going. Other times, all you can do is lay in bed and wished the world came to a sickening end. I know I do.
I’d like to believe that over the past few weeks I’ve learnt. And grown. Up. Every once in a while life sneaks up on us and gives us a bloody tight slap across the face, just for kicks. We can stick around and decipher what just happened and why. But we know there just aren’t enough answers for all of life’s sucker punches.
So what do we do?
For me, I believe that the decisions we have/choose/need to make, mostly narrows to two. Either, Or. Both of which probably have both good points and bad. So the task we have is to essentially weigh which is on our side, relying on a bit of judgement and a lot of common sense. In (my) theory, this works. The tricky part is that we are (only) human. This simply means we overanalise every crappy little thing. This is where things get complicated.
So what do you do if one moment you’re the king of the World, and suddenly you feel you’ve broken every appendage in your body. While the world you’ve built your world upon vapourises. And you’re dying from the ebola virus. And beef Bovril is never coming back. Ha. You wake and hope its all just a bad dream. And in that twilight limbo between sleep and a new day, this gives you a glimmer of hope. Only to have it robbed from you again, as the automatic sliding door of life opens to reality. And that nasty dream you had starts all over again, except it really isn’t a dream.
What do you do?
Duh. Narrow it down to two choices, of course. The answer will be obvious. BUT…
we are only human.
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As I was walking up the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there again today.
I wish, I wish he’d go away.
~Hugh Mearns
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