An elderly person near me died today. We were not super close, but saw each other almost daily. It is interesting how people who knew her reflect on her life now. A nice ritual to meet and and talk about her. People talk very openly, and with sadnes say even things about her which they othervise would not say, because it would be considered gossip. But now, it cannot be gossip, because there is honestly and sadness and it kinda does not matter, because the person is dead.
What kind of consequence does the form of our living spaces have on our psyche and our view of reality? If all objects around me right now are all man made rectangles; mono-color synthetic surfaces accompanied by sounds of a neighbor flushing.
elephant in the room: many of us do not feel affinity to humans around whom we meet face to face. In essence, we are a foreigner from a different culture. We do not share basic values with them; their habits make us cringe and their food makes us sick. As if we are an alien who landed on the wrong planet. Maybe they are stuck and we grew too much, or maybe they got bewitched, or maybe we took too many pills. But I do not think this is a pathology. In historical terms, we are the ones who burn old religions and start new religions. We are those who discover new continents. We are those who pack up to leave, never to be seen again in their hometown, and then we become the founding fathers elsewhere. We will be remembered. Rejoice!