We all agree on and accept the fact that a few pieces of paper with some numbers written on them can buy a loaf of bread, a car or a house. We tell ourselves that he or she is the love of our life. Until they are not the love of our life anymore. We can argue whether a black dot on a blank piece of paper is art. We think that success brings happiness. We tell ourselves stories that make others envious. We create fake enticing lifestyles and guide others on how they should live their own lives.
But what is love? We wonder. What is god, or faith or religion? What is life? Or money? Are they good, or bad? Are we on the right track or not? Are we successful? But what exactly is success? And does it bring happiness along with it? Happiness? What is this thing called happiness? What are all these things we’re wondering and worrying about anyway?
Social conventions. Definitions. That’s all they are. We define love, we define life, we define god, we conceive rules for success and lists on how to be happy. We value money as if they were more than just pieces of paper. We limit everything to narrow explanations so our minds can accept them easily. We are masters at crafting definitions.
Actually, we don’t know what they are. We really don’t know, but we continue to define them. We define this world and then struggle to live inside this very limited definition. Everything else is not life enough, is not love anymore, is not successful at all…
You see, a definition will always be limited, but outside it, everything is limitless.
Yes, this little bubble you’re living in right now, is a definition too. It might not even be yours.
But don’t worry about that. I might be wrong.
Depending on your definition…