linguist's dillemma

Enough of the judgments of the past. Enough their reign in my thoughts. So called the mind. Who I was , was only a matter of perspective. My perspective, in one time or another. My view of another’s perspective. Everything is a dance and everything is an evaluation. I am as much a dancer as everyone else. How could I improve on my dance. How could I know what I was doing was right. Who is to judge and praise me for it. Is it me taking flight from reality, or is reality only what a large number of people agree to be.

There is life, the everyday of it. There is me, amongst it all. I am the arbiter of my world. I am a part of it. What do I mean my life to be. There will always be a question on every turn. How I answer will decide where will I end up. But if I think about it, so does everyone else. Some questions we agree on, some we don’t. Some we talk about, some we dont. With some ideas, we attached emotions. They are different for everyone, and equally valuable. To think differently, one must feel differently, so called our history of instincts.

But a brute psychologist will tell you, we can not afford uncertainty. That the illusion of the concreteness of language was a necessary one and could not be permitted too much investigation. That every thing each one of us does is only human, alas all too human.