How easily is modern man reduced to begging for his life from the clutches of such invisible a foe as a sickness! Oh how shattered becomes the illusion of control we so rigorously annex everything into, that when a contender arises to compete with it, we feel so disturbed by its presence that we resort to total extermination of the merely inquisitive specimen.
Imagine if we were to adopt such a brutal and unforgiving form of politics. Indeed the man who carried out such a goal would be compared to the great bringers of the apocalypse so quickly that surely some esoteric organization, if not a public one, proud of the accomplishment, would destroy the usurper as swiftly as he desired to usurp others.
Do we punish every arrogant senator that deigns to disrupt the unity and continuous flow of society with an outlandish idea? Does his head end up on the chopping block for every misspoken word that leaves his mouth? Do we annihilate him and all those who stand by him for their refusal to accept our views? Does the dissonance their existence creates leave us feeling empty or worthless, like a decaying corpse under six feet of barren earth?
No. In fact, it is this dissonance, this audacity to propose, this unerring nerve to suggest such a new or even retrogressive policy that is so far from what we consider normal, that allows our form of government to accurately judge the true desires of the people.
It is not within our capacity to achieve perfection. Indeed, it is not even within our true desire to do so. Imagine, momentarily, a life where nothing wanted was not given. We would soon learn to want nothing, or else be forced to, by the extremity of our predicament, the same end. Picture a life without sadness, without grief, or without sorrow. Visualize a world without hatred, without pain, without spurn. The ideal of perfection is just that, ideal. It is not beholden to rules or common sense, or even logic. For if one were to apply such restraints on the ideal, such restraints that are, at least at the current time, prerequisites of any idea worth idealizing, it would become dreadfully apparent that without pain, we would have nothing to judge ecstasy besides. Without the deep colorful pangs of hatred, we would never feel so acutely the soaring uplifting notes of love. Without days filled with sadness, we would never understand the sheer blessing that is a day full of joy.
No, it is not within our desire for perfection. So let us instead revel in the imperfectections that make this life so worth our time. For it is only after struggling to achieve that we can truly feel the pride that comes from the achievement. Only after struggling to survive do we understand what it means to be alive. We must change our attitude. We must look at sickness not as a curse, but as an opportunity to once again become healthy. We must gaze into the face of danger and see not our own misfortune, but the luck we have to have been given a test of our own strength. We must spare no thoughts to the forlorn, for our minds were not meant to dwell in such miserable haunts of attitude.
Let us look at the future not as another day that we must fight the raging battle, but as another day in which we can grow to new heights. For the evergreen does not look at the shade of his ancestors and say “I will never achieve such greatness.” No, the evergreen forgets to look at his own shade, but rather turns his attention to the sky in search of new opportunities to grow.
Granted, such a metaphor may hardly seem applicable, for it is through the gift of higher intelligence that we are capable of feeling such complex emotions as worthlessness or neglect, and a tree does not feel compelled to attain such intelligence, and therefore has never felt the heavy presence of depression nor the futility of the abused. But any creature with a soul and any being that struggles to survive in this world and has, is a being that must be praised. For we all can relate to the struggles of survival.
Imagine if we were to adopt such a brutal and unforgiving form of politics. Indeed the man who carried out such a goal would be compared to the great bringers of the apocalypse so quickly that surely some esoteric organization, if not a public one, proud of the accomplishment, would destroy the usurper as swiftly as he desired to usurp others.
Do we punish every arrogant senator that deigns to disrupt the unity and continuous flow of society with an outlandish idea? Does his head end up on the chopping block for every misspoken word that leaves his mouth? Do we annihilate him and all those who stand by him for their refusal to accept our views? Does the dissonance their existence creates leave us feeling empty or worthless, like a decaying corpse under six feet of barren earth?
No. In fact, it is this dissonance, this audacity to propose, this unerring nerve to suggest such a new or even retrogressive policy that is so far from what we consider normal, that allows our form of government to accurately judge the true desires of the people.
It is not within our capacity to achieve perfection. Indeed, it is not even within our true desire to do so. Imagine, momentarily, a life where nothing wanted was not given. We would soon learn to want nothing, or else be forced to, by the extremity of our predicament, the same end. Picture a life without sadness, without grief, or without sorrow. Visualize a world without hatred, without pain, without spurn. The ideal of perfection is just that, ideal. It is not beholden to rules or common sense, or even logic. For if one were to apply such restraints on the ideal, such restraints that are, at least at the current time, prerequisites of any idea worth idealizing, it would become dreadfully apparent that without pain, we would have nothing to judge ecstasy besides. Without the deep colorful pangs of hatred, we would never feel so acutely the soaring uplifting notes of love. Without days filled with sadness, we would never understand the sheer blessing that is a day full of joy.
No, it is not within our desire for perfection. So let us instead revel in the imperfectections that make this life so worth our time. For it is only after struggling to achieve that we can truly feel the pride that comes from the achievement. Only after struggling to survive do we understand what it means to be alive. We must change our attitude. We must look at sickness not as a curse, but as an opportunity to once again become healthy. We must gaze into the face of danger and see not our own misfortune, but the luck we have to have been given a test of our own strength. We must spare no thoughts to the forlorn, for our minds were not meant to dwell in such miserable haunts of attitude.
Let us look at the future not as another day that we must fight the raging battle, but as another day in which we can grow to new heights. For the evergreen does not look at the shade of his ancestors and say “I will never achieve such greatness.” No, the evergreen forgets to look at his own shade, but rather turns his attention to the sky in search of new opportunities to grow.
Granted, such a metaphor may hardly seem applicable, for it is through the gift of higher intelligence that we are capable of feeling such complex emotions as worthlessness or neglect, and a tree does not feel compelled to attain such intelligence, and therefore has never felt the heavy presence of depression nor the futility of the abused. But any creature with a soul and any being that struggles to survive in this world and has, is a being that must be praised. For we all can relate to the struggles of survival.
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