March 2, 2009. 4:49 am.

There is something that makes me so excited. The possibility of feeling. Sensing the things that surround us, with no judgment and predetermined assumptions, is probably the best of happiness we can get. Looking through the things I have gained, thoughts that I have formed, people that I have met, and life that I have built, I come to realize that life cannot be given a definite explanation or definition. It is too complex to fit into any format. The only thing that stays, after all that have been seen so far, is diversity. The appreciation of & respect for it.
We are all constrained in many ways. What is bad—we think we are constrained even if we aren’t. We measure our budget in money terms and, comparing it to the others’, find it insufficient. We measure our time (calling it “our time” even though we never own it) in terms of days, hours, & minutes, never stopping to realize that it actually is like a river flowing by—the thing that cannot possibly & should not be broken into little pieces. Because we lose our river whenever we try breaking it into pieces and categorizing it, putting it into different boxes, & selling it out.
It is very hard to fight the socially established norms and “silent agreements”. If there is any need to fight them. Those norms, themselves being our ideal representations of self, steal the very possibility of spontaneity, leaving only mundane & already lived out (in mind) life that gives us nothing but the proof or the disproof of existence. We become the slaves of our minds believing that we are free if no one tells us what to do. In fact, we remain under constant control of the beliefs, norms, and traditions; the religious & moral doctrines, to which we turn for the explanation of this strange “feeling of helplessness”, teach their understanding of the right & wrong.
(observing the behavior of a friend) We get mad every time we “lose” something that we didn’t really have. We try to make our steps more sound, try to make ourselves as visible, we want everybody to keep proving us that we “are here”, that we exist. We get involved in all kinds of social activities; try to develop our “God-given” talents, act like we are attentively listening to what the partner is saying—just to reassure ourselves that we are recognized as a living substance. Is it because we, ourselves, always doubt that we have any significance among this massive river of six-billion people, that we somehow fear the thought of being a copy of some body else? Is it because we do not really believe that we, as “WE”, make any sense?