I was talking about freewill sometime ago. As I began reading Ayn Rand's 'Atlas Shrugged' again, I found this: “That which you call your soul or spirit is your consciousness, and
that which you call ‘free will’ is your mind’s freedom to think or not, the only will you have, your only
freedom, the choice that controls all the choices you make and determines your
life and your character.”
'Caught in a strange land in a net with other butterflies, I'm a caterpillar yet undecided to remain a caterpillar and perish or turn into a beautiful butterfly and live a life full of joy.' Readers don't laugh. But I came up with this one night recently when I was travelling in a train. I tossed and turned, not being able to sleep, upset over unexplainable things and frustrated over events not in my control. Then it occurred to me that our life and its usefulness depends on our decisions -- whether to remain a crawling caterpillar whose existence otherwise is either ignored by all and sundry or who is cursed for just being there and thrown out with a stick, or to develop wings of life and metamorphose into a beautiful butterfly whom everybody adores for its beauty and colour, for its flitting liveliness, for its service to the flower's pollination... I thought that I should be a butterfly, of service to others, but then again I thought, anyway, who really cares?
Comments
Post a Comment