Life is Holistic

Why is there so much joy?
Why is there so much pain?
And that most fundamental of questions...
Why is there something, instead of nothing?


I find myself amazed by both the finiteness and infiniteness of the human experience on this world. The sounds of all the languages are like music to me.
The line between the unique and rare and the utterly fundamental is blurry.
I think that the reason everything seems to blend together is this: Life is holistic.

The room is too hot, so I'm thinking strange things.
I'm thinking about all the things I would say if I knew I was dying.
I'm thinking about the different attitudes people take towards their lives.
I admire those who would die for a cause, but those who say that life is cheap and that they don't mind putting a price on it... they make me shudder.
They make me shudder, because...
Because death is taboo.
In a museum once I read that death has become increasingly taboo as life expectancy rises.
Isn't that funny?
And my mother used to say, "I give you an inch, and you take a mile."

I think about the feeling of paint on the skin. Thick paint.
I used to think paint was just colour. I laughed that it could feel thick as mud on skin. Thick as mud and cool until it dries and stretches and cracks.

A synesthete once thought paint smelled blue. White paint drove her nuts.

Last night Richard was surprised that you could write on an eraser.

I remember discovering that soap could get dirty.


I think, that there's no difference.



I can identify my enemy at last: It is permanence.
I desire everything the same, to lose nothing. And nothing, nothing lasts...

Why is there something, instead of nothing? Why does something return to nothing?