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 0blio rated 24 months ago- There are some fascinating insights, poetry, and ramblings in hoju's space! I hope you continue to find inspiration along your travels..
"This space is for the musings of one small cluster of autonomy on the inspiration and defeat that can be found everywhere in life, the internet and avocados."
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3 Reviews
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- mezmerizing rated 6 weeks ago
- I like lots. Nice to see great writing on stumble. If only I could have such gift of the gab.
- 0blio rated 24 months ago
- There are some fascinating insights, poetry, and ramblings in hoju's space! I hope you continue to find inspiration along your travels..
"This space is for the musings of one small cluster of autonomy on the inspiration and defeat that can be found everywhere in life, the internet and avocados."
- Botticelli rated 17 months ago
- Hoju-fjorder's blog is very thought-provoking and philosophical. I had to pinch the following quote from his writing:
"I remember going to a museum exhibition when I was young. There were moths, as well as great paintings, and the moths were behaving in what seemed to me to be a very strange manner. They would whirl in a tight circle towards the ceiling, all the while closing upon a light fixture. When they got so close as to feel its heat they would all of a sudden cease their trajectory and fall almost as if they had been shot from the air by some arrow of fate, and plummet to the hard wood of the museum floor. Blinded they were, by the very object of their sole purpose and affection. But such was this affection that as soon as they had reached some safe distance, and regained their sight and capacities, they would once more spiral upwards again to so well a rehearsed fate.
And at the time, as I was young, I felt like screaming out to them to stop, to cease their futile climb, to come to some sense and learn from their previous humiliation. But now I realise that to have done so would have been hypocrisy at best, for all beings pace their own circles, reach their own dizzy heights and sink in their own sickening doldrums, and seldom do we learn a lesson so well as not to repeat it. We, so like the moths, cannot see outside our own stories, and so convinced are we of our role as protagonist, and our inevitable justification in our cause, that we become blinded by the very object of our desire, see new ground before us with every step instead of a well-worn a path full of our own boot-prints - spiralling ever upwards towards illumination and defeat, plummeting ever downwards towards a chance at a new path. If only we would breath out for a moment, and look about at all the paintings."
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