Porridge of Ideas

Ideas can be like sandals that allow men to touch what is possible or potential, but not yet actual. They can also fester like bacteria, poisoning and imprisoning a man into a mental state that is leagues below the quality of his own beginning. Even his health can be jeopardized should the conceived meme run amok amidst the shadows of his unconscious dreams; unmoderated alongside a million other unfiltered impressions. In modern times, above all others, the porridge of ideas has become rather thick. It is difficult to separate the proverbial wheat from the chaff when the mortar between the two dries into stiff glue.

Men mistake random thoughts as gems and jewels to hold up high and nigh. They get carried away by anxious emotions that run them around in circles. He who lets a fickle heart and a wandering mind lead the journey of life is without any true direction. Accidental winds blow his sails through zigzags that go anywhere, and nowhere. The weak of heart will convince themselves, and anyone nearby, that the direction is good and perhaps even divine in design. And they will justify whatever results come to be as having meaning and purpose, regardless of the truth.

It is this hypnotic trance that stiffens the flexibility of a man’s nature and allows him to sleep during waking hours. The strangest realization to encounter for oneself is the duality of self and persona. It is this untangling of what is genuine from what is simply habit that allows a man to actually relax and focus his energies a little more towards the purely constructive and healthy. Perhaps he will even reveal from old books and new experiences a moral code to live by, designated not by enigmatic dogma but sheer expediency and reason.


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