Symptoms of Society

The constant flare in my mind exists in the hopelessness I sometimes feel for humanity. My generation is addicted to a virtual world so deeply that even the most peaceful of places serve only a drop of fulfillment. It’s scary. 

Like Ralph Waldo Emerson says in Self Reliance, no matter where you physically go, your problems are attached to you like a fifth limb. There is no external escape from the woes that nest in the mind. I cannot drive the boat of presence. I can only provide the harbor for boats to dock—and even then the ropes will fray and the current will take those boats back to sea: a seemingly eternal complacency. 

We all falter in our attempt to hammer the nails to fix the decaying buildings of those around us. Yet no hand man’s tool will ever fit just right to another man’s mind. We try to bandage symptoms when the real illness seems to be the human condition itself. No matter what we do, you and I will never be “fixed” by someone, something else. 

I am wounded by the blandness—a false hope to experience the presence of others other than myself. But my hope is merely an expectation that I should not set for anyone beyond the mind that possesses such hope.

I just wish more people sought to craft their own medicine—medicine of mind rather than empty stimulus. I won’t worry about it too much though. People must choose to enter the harbor. No current will take them there on their own and certainly not mine. 

*Note: I used the word “man” for the purpose of flow within sentences in comparison to the longer and choppier options such as “human,” “man or woman,” etc. I am not using “man” to exclude any genders, but to use “human” in shortened form.