The Use Of Stories

Hm, I haven't been posting anything in a while. Since I've wanted to try to live a life calmly in the shadows, in peace and quiet, I haven't felt much like sharing my thoughts other than in the pages of a hidden notebook. I have also, put away books for a while,  in order to explore the real world around me, to practise the written word in my every-day life, to watch and observe, to analyse and locate theories I have read of being performed. I have a notion, that these periods will come and go. For now again, I have picked up some reading and after finishing "The Never Ending Story" by Michael Ende, I am really eager to dive into some philosophy again. I don't do it for some higher purpose, in search of an ultimate answer, or an ultimate way of living. I just want to live a full life.

Ende is a subtle genius. He is like that brilliant actor that acts in every movie you like, but who plays his  role so well, you never recognise him. I always forget his name because of that, but one sec, I'll look it up.

Ah yes, it's Gary Oldman! Anyway, when first reading Ende's Momo, I thought it was good. Not particularly fantastic, but good. But his words-- maybe it's more of complete concepts-- really grows on you. When I read, I usually make little notes and underline phrases and stuff to retrace the steps of my thoughts and remember what I was thinking while reading, but since I borrowed these books from my sister, I didn't dare to. So exactly what had such an impact on me, I can't say. Basically, I think it's because of his way of objectifying problems, his way of giving moral questions and phenomenons a face, a character and a story that makes his ideas so welcoming to ponder on, to develop. Simply thinking of work as a time-consumer for example, isn't a very exciting thought, because most of us live with it every day. But if you imagine there's an actual thief behind your lack of time; a grey man, dressed in a dull suit, smoking cigars made from petals stolen from your very own stock of time flowers to keep him alive, it all becomes much more exciting. So making simple phenomenons in life into something bigger, something a bit more exciting, by adding some of your own imagination, you will actually see the world with completely different eyes. At least, my life seems a lot more interesting. And it's only because I challenge myself to conjure up silly little stories that explains why I do boring things like brushing my teeth etc. I have also started to think of time as my friend, as a travel companion accompanying me through life, a friend I would not want to part from. Time's way of comforting surpasses any consolation made with words from a human mind. Time is the river that keeps us going on. If we ever feel we are growing into someone we come to dislike, we can disembark that person and wave him/her farewell. Wave until the distance have made him/her invisible to the eye, forgotten and we have become someone else. Time is also an ever growing family. Every day another you is awoken, and you know that if you wake up the next day, you will be in the company of yet another you. That way it goes on and on, until the river reaches the sea, and we dissolve into it. I like the thought.