Living a Goal-directed Life

George Bernard Shaw once claimed that he wanted to die all used up.  Do you notice there is a lot of goal-directed meaning in it.

Life with purpose is much more meaningful, much more satisfying to the individual.  Ah, the music I am listening to is quite distracting.  My thoughts are drowning themselves in the whirlpool of words and music.  But well, I might continue writing.

It is the fact that, if you do the necessary math, with all the petty calculations, you realize that there is not much time to be used.  Taking time into consideration, resources pop up in the picture.

Dying used up – when all of yourself has been invested in worthwhile matters.  This not only includes successes, but also failures.  The satisfaction that comes with knowing that you have at least attempted to do something; there is nothing more fulfilling than that.  Trust me.

For doing so brings wisdom, the know-how of paths which to take up along the way.  It puts your life to place, setting your focus on one direction: toward the way of success.

Everyone wants to achieve some kind of pinnacle in their lives.  They want so much to climb the tallest mountain, to cross the deepest seas, and to jump over the highest hurdle… they sometimes forget about what the gear they need to bring along to keep themselves through.

Well, ready your own gear.

Red Scarlet

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The Writer’s World

Are We the Dreamers, or the Dream Weavers?

Are We the Dreamers, or the Dream Weavers?

And as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen

Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing

A local habitation and a name.

– William Shakespeare

They say that writers are trapped, locked up in their own worlds.  They say that artists are flying high in a different dimension, submerged in the incense of smoking opium and barbiturates.  Is that really so I dare not claim.

However, I shall not deny that there is much truth in it.  There is a characteristic of beauty in a mind left alone to wander about and linger on through the passages of conciousness.

One that is highly valued in a moment of solitude.  No, we are not smokers of weed and nicotine, puffing wisps of fantasies into the crisp air.  These are really periods of self-expression; of discovering oneself in a duty of such eloquence.  Times where thoughts – our thoughts – are heard, at least to an eager audience.  Times when we speak, hoping that the Outsiders take notice as we crawl out the Dream Tunnel, arms and legs outstretched like that of the spiders.

There shall be epochs where the world seems to crumble down in dusty ashes, only to arise from within a King so mighty.

We are the Dream Weavers, weaving ideas and connecting missing links together in hopes of patching up for a better world.  We are the Sowers of the Seed, silently praying that the flower that blossoms out shall be blessed with showers of love, joy, and happiness.

There goes.  Now what am I writing about?

Red Scarlet

PS: Anyway, it is about my birthday, it’s MY BIRTHDAY – so I got to spend my money. Taylor Swift needs to come up with a new hit titled Twenty-Three.  =)