Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Penguins in 2005 (an older scrap book entry)

Some time in 2005 I made this journal entry:

I am thinking... freedom is a complete illusion altogether.
Unless one finds it in the Buddhist sense.
Or the other extreme would be to be a psychopath.
Or a Christian or Muslim extremist.
Which is, in my view, the same.
No doubt.
Defying reality.
But in general...
Life seems to largely consist of demands from the outside and of actions
that we think we decide ourselves, but in fact they are a result of our
being manipulated or of peer pressure.
Like ironing.
Like mowing the lawn.
Like cleaning the windows, shaving the legs, etc.

I am looking out of the window, and five airplanes are trailing across
the blue, blue sky...
Not even airplanes are free.
Freedom was lost on this planet.
Except for a few Penguins in Antarctica...

Nothing of this is overly new, is it?
Nothing of this is overly creative.

I suddenly feel the big burden of potential failure on my shoulders again.

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