The Monkey Mind

Just finished reading the short novel The Stranger by Albert Camus, and what stays with me most is not the crime alone, but the strange-familiar stillness of the man who commits it. From the very beginning, the narrative places us inside Meursault’s mind, and through his detached voice, we encounter a peculiar form of alienation. The novel opens with the death of his mother, a woman he visited only on Sundays, and sometimes not even then. Their relationship had grown so distant that they were almost strangers. He had little in common with her, little to say, and perhaps little to feel, and he knew she felt the same. When she dies, he does not cry, nor does he attempt to fake grief. He attends the funeral because it’s expected, but he does not ask to have the coffin opened. Most would have asked to have the nails removed to see their dead parent one last time; he does not. Time had already sealed that distance long before the coffin was nailed shut. This detachment is not cruelty; witho...

Freedom is neither an illusion nor a delusion. It is a choice—independent of any influence or external force. Yet, every choice carries consequences, whether beneficial or harmful, in both the short and long term. At its core, freedom is the ability to choose, based on the belief that truth is, in essence, of our own making. External forces—governments, corporations, and other authorities—capitalize on this belief. They control our perception of truth, shaping our decision-making. But ultimately, we are our own greatest enemy—the most loyal wardens of our own prison. A prison built from identity, social status, boundaries, differences, and countless other constraints. And the bitter truth is that there are many things we do not need—we want them simply because someone else wants them. This wanting creates an opportunity for exploitation. Our mind space is occupied by thoughts that are not our own, desires that are not our own—tempting lies that carve out a sense of inadequacy that, in ...

The Ideal Light "Like a moth drawn to the flame, we gravitate towards the light..."                                                                                              (PC:  https://www.pinterest.com/pin/436356651378415164/) Why do we do what we do ? Why do we admire beauty ? And in that sense what is beautiful ?   With light, we see the world, its richness witnessed by a spirit of naive wonder untainted by desires. Desires are natural to the majority of humans yet they envoke possessiveness which prevents the admirer to enjoy the moment. Thus, it is said "to desire is to suffer"  And suffering starts and continues when:  "We want what we can never have" and "even if we think we do, ...