We all accept that a simple piece of paper with some number on it 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 match our decisions. We create lifestyles and guide others on how they should live.

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 about, anyway?

Social conventions. Definitions. This is what 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 of 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, the tiny little world 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.

Or right.

Depending on your definition…


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