Random Writing about Random Topics






  

Random Writings About Random Topics


Introduction

Sometimes, I just write about random things and whatever comes to mind. I'll switch these up occasionally as I write things. If I take down something you liked, feel free to request that I put it back up by leaving comments in the ChatterBox on the homepage. I'm always looking for new and interesting things to write about, so feel free to give me ideas.

 

Beautiful Chaos

The world is an arbitrary place. The stars don’t form constellations; people invented such ideas thousands upon thousands of years ago in order to navigate. In a natural setting, trees take root where they can, when they can and their branches can fork into an infinite number of directions. None of this is controlled by any force greater than that of the arbitrary nature of the world. And yet, many see beauty in the perfect chaos of the world.

As the cloud grow dark and rain falls down, one is met with the beautiful bedlam that occurs at the center of the every day roadside puddle. Raindrops fall and bring beauty: the constant chaos of falling drops and rising splash, meeting, greeting, colliding in midair. The ripples flow through the puddle, colliding with other ripples in a drizzling, beautiful disharmony of sight. Through the discord, the beauty remains because of the purity of the fall. No man has ever touched the clandestine bead as it falls from heaven and, landing in the grass, it remains the property of nature. No human holds claim over the rain, controlling its fall, or the eventual ascent of the water to the clouds again. The process has gone on and will continue long after the fall of humanity. And in this independence of man, there is beauty.

A brisk fall breeze catches a tiny flame on the window sill and the small orange god of light dances on the wick. While man made his source, the fire, a phenomenon in nature, maintains its natural purity and beauty. Fire can occur anywhere sufficient fuel exists and it maintains its beauty through being the most living of the nonliving. A fire needs a fuel to survive and oxygen to take in, while giving off carbon dioxide and hunting down a new food source. Fire destroys as it creates and as the bearer of a new life, gains a godly beauty. When the fire seems dead on the surface of a pile of debris, it can remain alight for weeks, even months, below the surface. The conflagration maintains an immortal air; the blaze is a god. Giving and taking life at will, remaining dormant or spreading quickly, and even extinguished, a fire can reawaken at will. The godliness of this raging immortal is an edification of splendor in the highest form.

Spindled between two closely forked branches on a tree or bush lies the mathematical majesty of an expert spinner. The calculated chaos of the spider’s web lingers there between the limbs. Particularly exquisite in the morning, the web gathers the dew of the morning chill, showing off its deepest intricacies. Winding around a focal point, like a hurricane around its eye, a spider web has no set form. No symmetry, no perfect circle, just capricious form. And yet, despite its illogical appearance, the tiny spun net serves its purpose. Beautiful, calculated and practical, the master arachnid spins a tiny tapestry consuming the beauty of the woven blankets of ancient Greece.

The underlying motif lies evident: man made structures cannot achieve beauty on the level of the greatest artist on Earth. Conquering the art of men is the hand of uncertainty, sculpting large and small in the world.

On Writing

This writing, an unconscious stream of consciousness, is naught but the raw fuel from which my mind draws its fire. Unadulterated creativity; unhindered thought. Freedom which no man or woman or entity can restrain. My thought is bound not by the conformities of man, but rather by the confines of my own depth. No one will ever chain me down, because I am young, strong, free and, more than ever, I am me. Drawing from others, draining life’s lessons from situations, I cannot be stopped. Barreling full speed toward my end, nothing but a head on collision with the wall that will be my completion awaits me.

 



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