Molding clay

Why must we dissect?  Why can't we take a potato for what it is, rather than chopping, peeling, and uncovering its layers.  Is this analyzing satisfying?  Or is it a yearning for creation?  I suppose I'll take it for what it is- we so desperately want an answer, a feeling of security that makes us feel good inside.  Anything unknown is foreign to our bodies and therefore scary.  But don't you see, in the most scary of times, something amazing occurs?  We embrace it.  We progress.  We stretch ourselves (like taffy) and grow.  We learn.  Anything risky is truly worthwhile,  because we are asking ourselves to do something new and that in itself is a great concept.  Often times the things I most fear turn out to be the greatest things ever. 

What's so good about answers?  I often feel that when I find out what I am  looking for, I'm not satisfied.  And not in a greedy way.  It's just that answers don't always settle scenarios.  Maybe this is why I prefer word searches over logic puzzles.  Word searches ask you to find a word, but each word has a definition that one can interpret and mold to their liking.  I love words because of this.  But logic puzzles, bloody annoying logic puzzles.  Logic gives you a direct answer, great, but WHERE is the feeling in that?  I'll admit It's nice to work on a math problem and get the answer, and yes it is satisfying.  But don't you feel that the journey to answer the problem (in various ways, using various methods) is more exciting?  I think people in this day and age are so excited to be satisfied, who isn't, but why do we choose the road MORE traveled.  We take the quick and easy way out time and time again.  We buy things online instead of walking in the store.  We play with gadgets and toys instead of simply sitting outside and experience the beauty surrounding us.  And yes, the internet is convenient and clever and amazing.  But what about that poor road, where we can pick berries along the way and smell the fresh pine of the green trees, and hear our feet stepping onto the stones the begin to crackle below us.  It's there for us.  No answers, no conclusions.  Just something made for us to explore, discovery, and delight in.  

What a messy blog.  I have so many ideas that I don't think I can express.  A lot of ramblings that probably make sense to only me and maybe Luna Lovegood.  

I'll leave you with a poem that I love.

The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And look down one as far as I could

To where it bend in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear; 

Though as for what the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.