Sortes Vergilianae. Poetry is somewhat magical in Roman beliefs.

How about drawing random quotes from T. S. Eliot’s work? Let us go and make our visit.

Recently I got myself interested in poetry. I am not a fan of Walt Whitman, and I haven’t acquired (or maybe never will?) the taste to read through his Leaves of Grass. I find the concept of this piece of work, instead of the work itself, interesting.

Lately I have been feeling a block to write here.

In my previous post “Goal and System”, I used the word “system”. It wasn’t wrong. However, in the context of that post, it missed out a lot of meanings I wanted it to convey. My intention was to introduce the concept of system as a framework to make sense of the world in a better way.

Set systems to guide our actions and decisions in life, not goals.

It was a much needed break in order see things clearly again, even though I thought I wasn’t using it well.

Recently I attended three occasions that prompted me to think about a series of related questions. They eventually lead me back to the question of meaning.

The modern world is complex. It’s hard for everyone to acquire a comprehensive understanding of how everything work together. Knowledge is inevitably dispersed. That’s why specialisation is more important than ever now.

The last two months were not easy time. I know it is a cliche, but in retrospect, it is blessing in disguise that I gained a little bit more clarity on being human and how we can do better knowing that.