” …the path to one’s own heaven always leads through the voluptuousness of one’s own hell.”

nietzsche wrote that over 120 years ago. i think that his eyes were somehow opened more wide than others. we spend our days toiling away at something in order to get something. some learn to love the toil…the process of toiling, the feel of toiling, the sound and smell of toiling— in order to get themselves through the day… to start the process all over again. are they working toward a goal? and if they get to that goal, then what? another goal? when does it end?

when do the goals that we set for ourselves cease to rule our existences? how would we think and act if we as a species were not goal oriented? it seems as though that without goals, without problems that need to be solved nothing would get accomplished…diseases wouldn’t be cured, bridges wouldn’t be built, food wouldn’t be produced.

we’d all become house cats…waiting for someone with a thumb to work the can opener.