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The Unbearable Heaviness of Being

My quest for the eternal lightness

 
L (No, not the L from Japanese anime Death Note) was taken aback when I told her that I secretly crave for failure. It stems from the deep suspicion I have for ‘something higher’. Failure, that which is so terrifying, so real. I told L, that I often wonder (I am even lured to it sometimes) about that which is found in the debris when the tower of success is brought down.

Have we become achievement whores that we are willing to prostitute every memory to our lust for a unified, triumphant tale?  And how we have defended our pleasure against the ‘voices’ of ’emptiness’ which tempt us to leave the bosoms that we rest in.

I find comfort in St Augustine’s confession (from reading THIS article) :

But many people who know me, and others who do not know me but have heard of me or read my books, wish to hear what I am now, at this moment, and yet it is in my heart that I am whatever I am. So they wish to listen as I confess what I am in my heart, into which they cannot pry by eye or ear or mind. They wish to hear and they are ready to believe; but can they really know me?

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