Kierkegaard ne güzel demiş; “Neyi seçersen seç pişman olursun. Çünkü sorun tercihlerinde değil, yaşanmamış bir hayatı romantize etmendir. İnsan her daim gidilmemiş bir yolu cazibeli ve gizemli bulur. Bu yüzden mesele en doğru seçimi yapmak değil, hangi pişmanlıkla yaşayacağını seçip karar vermendir.”
Having spent the last few days on the coast, I cannot help but notice tattoos have become almost universal among adults. They are, of course, a matter of personal choice, yet I wonder what cultural impulse has made the permanent display of the self so irresistible.
The things that matter most to us, our loves, loyalties, sorrows, and convictions, have traditionally belonged to the realm of intimacy. They acquired their dignity precisely because they were not paraded before strangers.
I don't know. I struggle to see in this fashion anything other than a surrender to the modern compulsion towards self-advertisement, another form of selfism. The belief that identity must not only be possessed, but exhibited. What presents itself as an expression of individuality often achieves the opposite, reducing the person to another participant in a highly conformist ritual of self-expression.
The average man is too honest in places where he should be strategic, and too dishonest in places where he should be accountable. He reveals his plans to strangers, but lies to himself about his habits. Power begins when you reverse this. Be private with the world. Be mercilessly honest with yourself.
Caminar sin podcast. Comer sin teléfono. Esperar el café sin scrollear. Ahí es donde aparecen las únicas ideas que después vas a reconocer como tuyas. Aburrirse a propósito es de los actos creativos más raros que quedan.