there is despair to beauty

There are some things in the world that are so tragically sad they are beautiful.

Or so tragically beautiful to the point where it is sad.

Where does this sense of doom come from?

I'm a believer in fate; perhaps a different type of fate from the social norm. I don't believe in the type of fate that says you have a predestined life before you are born.

However, I believe that there is a certain purpose to our lives; that for each step you take, you are travelling further down this purposeful road and towards an unknown destination.
(Have I explained this before?)
It is like a raindrop or a pebble falling into a still pond. It travels in a steady path downwards, propelled by gravity, full of purpose and destination.
That's what I see life as.

Of course, our lives are not bound by a certain set of rules laid out beforehand. But I see it as, that a certain combination of choices we make leads us to a certain destination that we may have subconsciously picked out for ourselves.
It is like a jungle of a forest, with tall cedar trees and an infinite number of paths running through it. There is a stream that runs through the heart of the forest. No matter which path you take, or which path you decide to follow once that path ends, you will inevitably come to cross that lake.
And that's fate.

And of course, there is one universal fate of mankind - death.
That's the most extreme form of fate though. But a strong argument nevertheless.
The idea that death is what is waiting for you at the end of the road isn't supposed to be depressing or existentialist. To me, it's just a confirmation of fate - that no matter what I do, or how uncertain I am of the future, I will always be moving towards the finite end; and that gives a certain sense of purpose to my life (hahah, I find certainty and security in life because I'm going to die :D)

Anyhow after a long roundabout discussion, what lead me to say this was the tragic beauty and sadness.
It's the same feeling; a sense that time is the obliterator of everything, man made or natural, which lends this depth of sadness to beauty or beauty to sadness.
Treasure it, because nothing can last.

2010-06-22
4:30 p.m.
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