So..3 of the books arrived this afternoon. One is the much waited for, "The Selfish Gene". Other two are "Darwin's Dangerous Idea: Evolution and the Meanings of Life" and "The Blind Watchmaker".
Lately I've been continuing on "The Infinite Book" (Barrow); it's a nice one on mathematical infinities. I seem to have grown strong addiction towards non-fictions in general. I don't know exactly why, but it would seem my time is running out too fast to have time for the other kinds. There is this invisible, undeclared but implicit and definite race against time, with too much still left to do.
Our mind works and grows in some ways, very much like the muscles. One has to push it to the limit to grow. Sometimes it will be painful indeed, but, ironically or not, that's how it can grow. It leads to believe, success is invariably linked with an intelligently designed plan for suffering in a consistent manner. In absence of a clear and absolute goal, or where knowing the goal itself is the first goal, it can be so frustratingly painful and delusive. More times than not, it cripples us, strays us, exhausts us and we would seem to loose pathetically; but in the midst of all these, even if for one time, we can rise above, and could keep the pulse ticking, we will win in the end. Spirit of winning never dies, or else, one has not yet, found it.
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