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Shybug

Ignorance is bliss

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Sometimes intelligence is a curse, the desire to question everything and to question the system, really fucks with my head, you know, knowing that the world could end anytime soon by an asteroid strike or nuclear bomb, seems like not knowing, is a much happier state of mind.

I can see why intelligent people like myself are so depressed all the time, we see things that most people cannot understand.

I've always had a desire to learn, maybe it has something to do with my infantlism, I feel like I have to learn new things, I feel like I have to question everything, I don't take some shitty answer and leave it, I seek knowledge.

I'm the type of person who would stick my finger in a powerpoint, just to see what would happen, and do it again to make sure.

I don't think humans are designed to be logical / intellectuals, but rather social beings, I think smart people have a slight indifference in there brain.

The worst part about being intelligence, is I have to know everything, understanding how much I don't know, really fucks with my head.

I've always questioned the existence of the universe, and have been fascinated with it.
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  1. Marka's Avatar


    Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College
    By Thomas Gray

    Ye distant spires, ye antique tow'rs,
    That crown the wat'ry glade,
    Where grateful Science still adores
    Her Henry's holy Shade;
    And ye, that from the stately brow
    Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below
    Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
    Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowr's among
    Wanders the hoary Thames along
    His silver-winding way.

    Ah, happy hills, ah, pleasing shade,
    Ah, fields belov'd in vain,
    Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
    A stranger yet to pain!
    I feel the gales, that from ye blow,
    A momentary bliss bestow,
    As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
    My weary soul they seem to soothe,
    And, redolent of joy and youth,
    To breathe a second spring.

    Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen
    Full many a sprightly race
    Disporting on thy margent green
    The paths of pleasure trace,
    Who foremost now delight to cleave
    With pliant arm thy glassy wave?
    The captive linnet which enthrall?
    What idle progeny succeed
    To chase the rolling circle's speed,
    Or urge the flying ball?

    While some on earnest business bent
    Their murm'ring labours ply
    'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint
    To sweeten liberty:
    Some bold adventurers disdain
    The limits of their little reign,
    And unknown regions dare descry:
    Still as they run they look behind,
    They hear a voice in ev'ry wind,
    And snatch a fearful joy.

    Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,
    Less pleasing when possest;
    The tear forgot as soon as shed,
    The sunshine of the breast:
    Theirs buxom health of rosy hue,
    Wild wit, invention ever-new,
    And lively cheer of vigour born;
    The thoughtless day, the easy night,
    The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
    That fly th' approach of morn.

    Alas, regardless of their doom,
    The little victims play!
    No sense have they of ills to come,
    Nor care beyond to-day:
    Yet see how all around 'em wait
    The ministers of human fate,
    And black Misfortune's baleful train!
    Ah, show them where in ambush stand
    To seize their prey the murth'rous band!
    Ah, tell them they are men!

    These shall the fury Passions tear,
    The vultures of the mind
    Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
    And Shame that skulks behind;
    Or pining Love shall waste their youth,
    Or Jealousy with rankling tooth,
    That inly gnaws the secret heart,
    And Envy wan, and faded Care,
    Grim-visag'd comfortless Despair,
    And Sorrow's piercing dart.

    Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
    Then whirl the wretch from high,
    To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,
    And grinning Infamy.
    The stings of Falsehood those shall try,
    And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye,
    That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow;
    And keen Remorse with blood defil'd,
    And moody Madness laughing wild
    Amid severest woe.

    Lo, in the vale of years beneath
    A griesly troop are seen,
    The painful family of Death,
    More hideous than their Queen:
    This racks the joints, this fires the veins,
    That ev'ry labouring sinew strains,
    Those in the deeper vitals rage:
    Lo, Poverty, to fill the band,
    That numbs the soul with icy hand,
    And slow-consuming Age.

    To each his suff'rings: all are men,
    Condemn'd alike to groan,
    The tender for another's pain;
    Th' unfeeling for his own.
    Yet ah! why should they know their fate?
    Since sorrow never comes too late,
    And happiness too swiftly flies.
    Thought would destroy their paradise.
    No more; where ignorance is bliss,
    'Tis folly to be wise
    .
    This conundrum has likely been for all of time and is likely to remain for just as long...

    We can neither be wise nor ignorant to it all; so neither can truly be attainable...

    I think you may have eluded to this BluePanda, To know that we don't know is perhaps the least ignorant of all. And, to borrow from Buddhist's teachings, We need not know... and that is perhaps the wisest AND most blissful that we may be.

    The truth of the matter with things such as asteroids, meteors, what have you is... As far as we can figure, they've existed for as long as this universe has existed. And in that, they have been every bit of threat or not, as they are today... regardless, if we should know of them now or not... and practically speaking, there's still not a damn thing that we can do about it... Knowing of them hasn't changed anything, as far as I'm concerned for myself.

    We don't have to watch the news to know that bad things are happening... it seems that they probably are. That reminds me, if a tree falls when no one is around... does it make a sound? Well, I suspect that the sound-waves are created though, without an ear it's technically not sound per se...

    Ignorance, is just that... it's ignorant...

    Bliss, is potentially undefinable objectively...

    Wisdom,

    wisdom (ˈwɪzdəm)
    n
    1. the ability or result of an ability to think and act utilizing knowledge, experience, understanding, common sense, and insight
    2. accumulated knowledge, erudition, or enlightenment
    3. a wise saying or wise sayings or teachings
    4. soundness of mind
    [Old English wīsdōm; see wise1, -dom]
    wis•dom (ˈwɪz dəm)

    n.
    1. the quality or state of being wise; sagacity, discernment, or insight.
    2. scholarly knowledge or learning.
    3. wise sayings or teachings; precepts.
    4. a wise act or saying.
    Truer wisdom is not folly nor bane... It is wisdom... You have the insight, experience and, understanding to utilize the knowledge objectively. It may not be bliss though, I find it much more peaceful and assuring knowing, that I have a choice in how I take it and, how I act upon it... and that affords me the ability to further see more objectively...

    I shall also like to point out... there is much good going on too... even if we aren't privy to witness and attest to it. How can we see it though, in our ignorance? How can we have bliss, to not see it?

    where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise

    Can also read, ignorance is blithe, making useless the wisdom.

    If wisdom falls on deaf ears... does it make a sound?

    For now,
    -Marka
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