Women in black and other mind monsters
Colour addict
It all started with the twinkling of the Tea… not in Wonderland, but rather in Wanderland or I wonder-what-comes-next land… tea in UK, where else, as if asking tough questions about life makes more sense while on an island.
There comes a time in our lives when black is no longer the colour and old ways cease to be our choices. How many times we change track, is, I suspect down to our capacity to put up with routine. Or perhaps, things are even more complicated than that.
What is life all about afterall?
When you think you are on the right track something happens and proves you were wrong to think that was all and you have figured it out …
Is happiness a benchmark? No one seems to bother with this anymore, perhaps not such a priority to most of us. Risking to sound shallow or immature, I still bother with this.
Choice. It’s all about choice – someone told me. The choices we make are like turnabout routes we take. Making choices is taking one particular way over others. Obviously, the next natural question is does destination matter? Does the road matter more than the destination? Is it a done deal, that by the time we reach the destination we will have had the sort of experiences that take our mind set to the initially envisaged mind set for us or is it a roll of a snowball and no one really knows when or where things end more important, how… I guess this is what makes it worth sticking around.
Are we really like islands and worlds apart, while so close together, and if so, what brings some of us together?
Timing also. Crucial! As, how many times do we pass by one another before we realize we connect. How many times have we met before actually realizing we belong together. Do we really belong together? That’s even a tougher one…
Is anything meant to happen? How much of it and how much do we actually have any influence over? And if so, to what extent?