Chess is like life: the trade offs are never one-to-one and never black and white. Sometimes they are similar trade offs. At other times they can be for material, temporal or positional advantages.
Chess is like life: you must not waste time and start to prepare from the very first move. If you get behind you may find it hard to catch up later.
Most people tend to forget that SNS is a part of (modern) life, and should be dealt with in the same way as life.
What you wouldn’t do in real life you shouldn’t do on SNS either. This should be a general rule of thumb.
Don’t do to others what you don’t want them to do to you is another rule.
Death is both hideous and wonderful.
It is hideous in that those left behind grieve of their loss. Their love is what brings pain. And we can do nothing but love.
It is wonderful in that it unselfishly gives way to new life. The world is a finite space. We must all eventually stand up and give our seats to others more needy of it.
So death should be a brief moment of sadness and a lifetime of joy. It should not consume you, the one remaining. It should give you the will to continue to do your best, to not waste even a single beat of the precious drum commonly known as The Heart.
is not such a scary thing
not completely unexpected
it happens to everyone
it is the sure bet
so why do we fear it
it’s as natural as birth
to be born is
to be guaranteed a death
a wise man once said
‘what is unborn cannot die’
how wonderful it is, then
to be born and not live forever
because how boring
would life be
as beckett put it, to be
waiting for godot
Three pieces of news has made me think about existence – the news of the death of the great kabuki (a form of traditional Japanese play) actor Ichikawa Danjuro, the death of three Japanese tourists in Guam, and the explosion of a meteor over Russia.
Truly, there is no guarantee you will be alive by the end of the day, or even the end of this minute.
To take this a step further there is even no guarantee that you would have been brought into the world in the first place.
Think about that.
… is that it ultimately gives one a better perspective of the world.
Last night I posted on my Facebook Wall about the beauty of the stars in a clear sky. And this morning I continued the story with an update about how clear the morning night sky was again. This prompted a friend of mine to comment how she wished she had the luxury of looking at the stars like me.
But what she and probably everyone else don’t realize was that I wasn’t actually delibrately going outside to look at the night sky but rather I was doing the mundane task of putting in the laundry into the washing machine in our creaky old country outhouse. I do it every night before I sleep at nine (put on a six-hour-later timer so that we use the off peak electricity, of course), collect and hang it up just after five in the morning. So all I had done was look up at the night sky as I made the trip there and back.
It isn’t the romantic country lifestyle as everyone seems to think. That is what is so great about darkness. They are like “alcohol goggles” (that is, being drunk): you can forget about reality and enjoy the sheer beauty of the dark clear night sky. But it all comes crashing back to earth when you enter your artificially lit home and see yourself in your run down PJs in the mirror.
As I said it isn’t a romantic lifestyle but it is an ideal one, one that makes me happy and feel closer to nature. And I wouldn’t give it up for the world. At least that is what I feel at the moment. Because if it wasn’t for this lack of convenience of not having space for a washine machine in our house I wouldn’t have seen that beautiful sky, or notice the natural rhythm – night after night – of the world that is beyond the psychological and physical walls which surround me.