We are solemnly individual, living in our own and something or another constantly keeping on trying to involve with us. Things Softly, deftly, caress us and by hearing or feeling it secretly possess us. We don’t possess the thoughts we discover — they possess us. We don’t possess these feelings we have — They obsess us. Much of human history has consisted of unequal conflicts between the haves and the have-nots. Have and have-nots are like people and persons. Persons are more difficult to work with than machines. And when we break a person, he can’t be fixed and People are far too many people, looking for the right person, instead of trying to be the right person. It appears that ordinary person’s take people’s because possession is not possible without taking away of anything, and that ordinary person’s accept people’s because they think life is not possible without possession.

Far too many people/we are looking for the right person, instead of trying to be the right person at the right place. Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place? We often leave a place for solitude, and mistake that with another Person. Maybe we shouldn’t be looking for love in places or people. Maybe we should be looking for a person. Because maybe we can find love in a person, but not have that person. So if we look for love, what we will find is love. But if we want to belong to someone, and we want someone to belong to us, we should look for a ‘person’.

The possessions themselves are not the problem, it is our relationship with possessing. Perhaps a sense of possessing needs to come to come before a sense of genuine sharing. We don’t realize that in our wish to transform ourselves is the proof that we don’t like us as we are, we want us to be different, or, rather, we don’t want just a place, we want a person we imagined who by them-selves would be if we were a mess. We are an opportunity for ourselves to expand into the magic of universe, to take possession of it.

Why the ‘Possessions’? What is the use of a house if we haven’t got a tolerable planet to put it on? We ae surrounded by friends, immense work, and abundant pleasures. Life, now, is unfolding before of us, constantly and visibly, like the flowers of summer that drop fanlike petals on eternal soil. Overall, we are happiest to be alone; for it is then when we are most aware of what we possessed. Free to look out over the rooftops of the city. Happy to be alone in the company of friends, the company of lovers and strangers. Everything, we decided, in this life, is pure pleasure.

We have all looked away from ourselves and at things so long that they have come to esteem the universal, and they deprecate assaults on these, because they feel them to be assaults on property. We measure esteem of each other by what each has, and not by what each is. The known is finite, the unknown infinite; intellectually we stand on an islet in the midst of an illimitable ocean of inexplicability. Our business in every generation is to reclaim a little more land, to add something to the extent and the solidity of our possessions. And even a cursory glance at the history of the biological sciences during the last quarter of a century is sufficient to justify the assertion, that the most potent instrument for the extension of the realm of natural knowledge which has come into our hands…

The books and magazines streamed in. We could buy them all, they piled up around us and even while we read, the number of those still to be read disturb us and the those getting/being read live inside of us. Meanwhile, the still the to-be read’s they stand in rows, weighing down our life like a possession which we did not succeed in subordinating to our personality. We’ve seen the world, and yet all we’ve seen is nothing; and everything, as well, that we have said and heard is nothing. We’ve sprinted everywhere between here and the horizon; it is nothing. And all the possessions we’ve treasured up at home are nothing.

Sometimes while writing why don’t we ever wonder if the words have a mind of their own? And if they’re really just use us as a puppet to manifest themselves? Possessions age and lose value over time; memories last forever. We don’t like Paradise.. But why? Maybe because they probably don’t have obsessions there. It’s not what we have, but who we are that counts. A belief is not merely an idea the mind possesses; it is an idea that possesses the mind.



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