Notes from thoughts, memories, and events
Can this plan be changed? Or do we have to go back the entire 90-year path and forget everything? At what level of abstraction can we define the right? At what level of abstraction can we define the soil? What is worth dying for? Is there anything in the world that is worth dying for? On the other hand, is there anything in the world worth living for?
Me and my hand. Me and my foot. Me and my brain. Me and my behavior. Me and my personality. Me and the person in whom I live. Me and the person in whom I live and who depends on me. Me and the person whose deficiencies I must make up for. Me and the person whose culture and civilization I must respect. Me and the person for whom I must strive to survive. Me and the person whom I must force to forgo many pleasures.
Have you missed someone? Give them a call.
Do you want to see someone? Invite them.
Not understood by others? Explain it.
Do you have a question or ambiguity? Ask.
Does something bother you? Speak up.
Do you like something? Express it.
Do you need something? Ask for it.
Do you love someone? Tell them.
Keep life simple.
It took thousands of years for humans to realize that, according to the inherent belief in God, they don’t need intermediaries to communicate with Him, and priests are useless in this regard. I don’t know how many years, perhaps thousands of years, will pass until humanity understands that if someone knows the path to success (assuming we have a clear definition of success), they will become successful. They don’t hold seminars or publish books saying, “Come on, follow me, and you will be successful.” We shouldn’t call these individuals anything but spammers.
Two things are essential for change in life:
The writing of Touraj Saberivand about school and his experiences with bullying reminded me of those days too. My mood was affected by those three-person desks. For a long time, I wished that something would happen to the person sitting in the middle, so my friend and I could sit together as a pair. And, of course, my wish came true and they were absent from the first third of the semester. I hate every moment of the bullying I experienced at Ibn-Sina Elementary School. I despise the teacher who hit me in the first-grade classroom. His fingerprints were on my face for a week. Many years have passed, but his face never leaves my mind.
Roman Gray ended his life with a gunshot on December 2, 1980, a year after his wife’s death in 1979. In a note he left behind, he wrote, “It was really good; thank you and goodbye.” If it were me, instead of “goodbye,” I would say something else. For example, “It was really good. Thank you and f**c you all motherf**cers.”
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