I’ve started writing a story. I’m excited about the venture. And I’m not going to spit out details because that would eliminate any purpose for reading the actual story once it’s published (I have high hopes).
As for myself, well, I’m well.
I picked up a philosophy book about a week or so ago and I’ve stuck with it. It’s “The Story of Philosophy”, so it’s a nicely summarized body of the biggest steps in philosophic history. It has rekindled my love and desire for the enlightened path. I strayed for a long time, and wandered alone on a dark and dreary path of discomfort and negativity. I’ve turned some things around. I look forward to a new day. I encourage the daylight. I desire my minimalist daily routine. And I actively look for the positive.
Even though absolute truths exist, I do not need to be absolutely negative, or cynical, or depressed, or overcome with anxiety. Absolute truths exist, and because they are absolute, my feelings and thoughts toward them won’t change them, so there’s no point in being so upset or so bothered by their existence. There is no point in letting them ruin my life. I choose to wake up in a good mood, and I choose to make the rest of my day a happy one. I got tired of bringing the bad to myself. I now discourage the horrible and the disagreeable from coming into my daily life; instead, I welcome the brighter side. I choose to slough off the debris and decay and I embrace all things good.
I know. I sound like one of those mental health freaks; one of those questionably-hippie persons; someone who is disillusioned with the idea that as long as positive thinking is in play, all the badness goes away…
Well, not quite.
I’m not unrealistic.
Her Self, Wandering 