Seriously confronting my patterns of work last night, I come up with the conclusion that I may be seriously unaware of my true motivations. Reading Elbow Room, a book about free will, I realize there is no a priori reason that I should have any access to my motivations. In fact, I have very little evidence that motivations exist.
There was a pretty intense moment in there. Last night. Thinking about this. I was thinking about goals in the context of motivations. Aren't motivations just the force behind reaching goals? And I heard this voice in my head saying "Finish the frog," over and over. And I thought, "How do I know when the frog is finished?" And the answer was, "Exactly." I don't really know if that has any meaning, but it felt like it did at the time. Maybe the meaning is that goals are illusions. Goals don't exist any more than motivations. There are just moments in time, filled with frogs. And auditory hallucinations.
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the guys: philogynist jaime tony - the gals:raymi raspil
