The Annual Splendid Snow

It’s the time of the year again, when WordPress seizes my blogging soul with the scattering of snow down my laptop screen in the realm of virtual logs.

I hope that made sense.

Watching the snow drift down the image of the cityscape that is the background of Sky Singularity now, I feel a profound sense of peace – and saying that makes me feel incredibly aged, but I have to go with it anyhow, because it is the closest I can get to expressing how I feel.

I sometimes think of people as balls of snow. After being borne out of the clouds high, high in the sky, sky, it’s just all the way down, till you hit the ground and rest on the cold, cold streets, until you melt and evaporate.

People are born, they grow, fall, fly, and then die.

I think the contemporary notion of urban solitude is overly romanticized.

To me, genuine solitude of the most enriching and peaceful kind is in one’s heart.

You can lie in the most densely populated city or in an unknown tiny, tiny village in a remote corner of the world, and it’s no guarantee that either could offer you genuine solitude more easily than the other.

What matters the most is the nature of your human spirit.

I find it incredibly difficult to express the solitary spirit of living that I think, believe and have faith in, because most people do not subscribe to such a school of thought. In fact, most of them find it unfathomable that such a school of thought exists. They think life is either as majority of the population lives it or it is not the life to have at all.

I have no problems with people and their socially conventional template lives. I think it’s great if they do good, find a life partner that they’re happy with and whom makes them happy, have 2.1 kids, raise them to be able beings, wrinkle and shrivel up in old age together and then grow old till they die happy campers of this planet. I think that’s great and I absolutely agree that it could be a fulfilling and meaningful way to live life.

But just because I think that’s a good thing doesn’t mean I want it for myself.

It is inexplicable to a person other than myself, the wealth of contentment with my own life that I feel to be my own ball of snow, able to drift wherever I want to fall and melt wherever and whenever I want to be gone.

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