Our world and time we live in are characterized by their constant noise and general aversion towards silence. The noise is ever-present and one can't escape it even when they think they have done it - the ghost of the noises accumulated over the day continue their endless chatter. When the noise is ever-present, even recognizing symphony seems difficult and it sometimes gets lost between the screeching, but if one is to pay attention, one can always notice its gentle sound, standing out. It calms and does not irritate, it guides and doesn't repulse, it seduces and opiates but does not leave you with a taste of an addiction in your mouth. Similarly, our world and age, have been characterized by reactions. Similar to noise, they add up, collect, and one cannot tell where it begins and where it ends and whether there is any symphony among it. The reactions extend to our social and cultural movements. Whether "progressive" or "conservative" (as wide as those terms are), they all are so often, reaction to something already existing, either standing in opposition or as a response, that ideas and principles end up being of lesser value and that the highest principle is that of "being unlike the other" or "being against the other". The result are, usually, boxed, inorganic, somewhat archaic ideas that replicate themselves and are often incapable to effectively reach hearts of humans and take root in individuals or societies. Anything that operates on strict dichtiomy needs "the other" to exist, to be opposed to, to stand against. This is not to say that at times, reactionary movement or ides are not understandable, perhaps necessary for a society. This post is in no way criticism of those, but in all of that noise, there seems to be a lack of organic, hollistic ideas that arise not in opposition, not as a reaction, but growing, as a flower, in the dark, priding itself of nothing else but its own perfumes and worrying little how other perfumes smell or stink. Of course, like every flower, it has to have its root deep in the ground and feed itself on centuries, millenia of knowledge underneath. The flower, however, is capable to discriminate, to pick out, to recognize symphonies among noise and to eventually create a majestic, all-embracing symphony that penetrates through everything, every noise and every scream. The flower that defines itself by what it loves and what it stands for, rather than what it hates and what it is opposed to. Maybe perhaps, even this idea of mine is a reaction to what I perceive to be the lack of organic ideas in our age, but I have little worry of swimming in my own irony. With that idea on the mind, and desire to grow from the roots of idealism, beauty, faith and agape, I begin this journey, hoping that it would bring it to the world that swims deep in cynicism, ugliness, doubt and base desire.
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