When I read the below quote (from Unbearable Lightness of Being
) I begin to feel like there are really only two ways of living: in acceptance of or in rebellion/betrayal to.
When we leave childhood we all accept or betray the lifestyles our parents taught us. When we leave a relationship we either accept or betray the things we've learned about being in love with that person.
I felt a little depressed a few years ago after watching a touring modern art retrospective in Houston. Each artistic "movement" seemed to exist only in reference to the movement before it. It seems that way with everything.
I do have some sense of interest in discovering "truly" original ideas, but most of the time I figure it doesn't really matter in the end.