Reflecting on War's Absurdity and the Search for Progress

The war truly seems absurd. I was still working and replying to my supervisor’s questions when I saw CNN live, all wrapped in a sense of urgency that neither made sense nor felt real. War kills people; it is a serious matter. But everything seemed to be watching through the glass door, as if one were watching a play. I couldn’t figure out what mood to approach this withperhaps just thinking about some unimportant academic issues that had no connection at all with reality. This only worsened the sense of absurdity.

Once any channels for mutual understanding are actively or passively blocked by political actions, people can only rely on imagining facts and selectively perceiving them. The concocted anger becomes real. Only anger fills one with a sense of living. People are inherently greedy. Human civilization is built upon iron and blood. Despite our constant efforts to build communication bridges and super towers, destruction often happens more quickly than construction. If we want a more peaceful environment, we need to establish an adaptable civilization capable of healing the wounds of history. But can we achieve this? I have little confidence in humanity.

The old society was just a mire; everyone, every nation, and every people involved in progress would sooner or later make evil deeds that would one day burst into full forcea fate no one could escape.

I get immense satisfaction when watching opinion videoslike being part of a group I belong toand like my brain’s “transgression” ideas are widely accepted. I’m not an outsider anymore, and I don’t have to cower in . This feeling is so beautiful that I need to be cautiousit’s too perfect to be true.

Once one becomes satisfied, they won’t think; everything will be notified. To truly progress, one must learn history extensively.

Every day, I reflect on problems with a death sentence as the backdrop. I’ve read many accounts from people in the vortex’s center. Without war, no one would imagine dying was easy or that civilization had resilience to lose a generation only to give birth to anotherthough for individuals, dying is fatal. Danger, chaos, and uncertainty are life’s essence. How to accomplish what one wants with limited time and energy becomes increasingly important.

What is the world to me? Perhaps as Hemingway described his time in Paris"Paris is a moving feast"so does the world feel to me: a flowing banquet of freedom and opulence, yet in Chinese culture also hints at things bound to end, such as decay, abandonment, and emptiness. One strike can leave a deep wound in people’s hearts, but it will eventually heal on its own over time. New generations will rise through the cracks left by the old ones.

This is merely an afterthought to life’s journey. Some die, some live; under the sun’s gaze, only ruins and remnants remain as tokens of what has already transpired. The wound I have inflicted on myself resembles a dagger that has pierced the heart with countless needlesthough it may seem severe at first, it will heal eventually. New people will emerge from this generation, and time will pass; the past’s splendor will return once again. People, like me, continue to love, hate, and speak words they’ve already said endlessly.

Since the wound has already formed, I can only wait for it to heal on its own. There is no need to tear one’s heart apart piece by piece. Remembering the ending of “A Thousand Cranes"run forward, don’t look back, never look backno matter how much one may grieve or be curious, run forever until you reach a place connected to reality. Put all of life’s fragments behind in the past.

Art is an escape and also something higher than reality. Matter can be destroyed, but spirit cannot endure destruction.

First, light a candle. In recent years, I’ve grown increasingly convinced that modernity and systematization constitute a machine into which everyone will eventually comply with the interests of the ruling class. Any kind of collaboration is becoming increasingly unlikely. Every individual can be isolated or separated from the rest with ease; young, passionate ideas are liable to be celebrated for a time before being either praised or discounted and filed away in history’s . YPM claims that history is an unforgiving judge of mindless action. Civilization will inevitably destroy itself.