Everything Flows…

I am changing, we are changing. Change is the inevitable truth of existence. We strive—often without realizing it—to adapt to life’s ever-changing conditions. Everything flows… one never steps into the same river twice. We despise humanity, daring enough to claim that everything comes from fire, following in the footsteps of Heraclitus. We go to a temple, worship in order to think, and sanctify ourselves by escaping from humanity.

We do not wish to be understood but to express. We fear that if we are understood, we will be considered one among the masses; from the peak of our intellectual ivory tower, we look down on everyone. We read, and we try to make what we read our reality. We believe, trusting the truths we think we know, for we understand that if we do not have faith in information, we cannot inscribe it into our minds. We feel secure in a room surrounded by books, yet we fear the realities beyond its walls. When we are convinced that the room will transform us, we also know that nothing will ever change.

We are growing old, time flows… Aging is a form of change; with each passing day, the romance in our reflection evolves. We become increasingly numb to life’s meaninglessness, yet perhaps as we age, we long to believe even more. We sense that the ease of learning we enjoyed in our youth has dulled, and that letting go of our beliefs has become ever more difficult. We miss our daring youth.

Life is in constant flow. Even if we isolate ourselves from society, we see the changes in our surroundings. It is as if, having spent our entire lives in a primitive African tribe, we remain alien to change. We struggle to discern the multiplicity around us. We are overwhelmed by the abundance of plurality, and we find no other recourse but to repeatedly seek refuge in ourselves just to breathe. We are in a state of constant change, yet the reality we yearn for is always found in the existence and nothingness within our mother’s womb. Perhaps that is why our most peaceful—and simultaneously most restless—moments reside in our bare self, hidden under the blanket in the darkness of night.

Constant change, a life of infinite possibilities, our non-existent idea of what to do, the persistent feeling of inadequacy, our inability to make sense of what we read… Perhaps the golden rule of life is to grasp a few of the continuously flowing thoughts. If we hold on, maybe we can halt change; if we hold on, perhaps we can be happy…