What is the most valuable thing in your life?

[Dür Ktulhu]

Usually, one thinks about such things either at the end of life or in catastrophic circumstances, and so it happened that I recently found myself in them. And I began to ponder: what is the most important thing in my life? The most precious and significant? And I couldn't come up with anything.

The first thing that came to mind was a memory from childhood: being in my mother's arms as she rocked me, wrapped in a blanket, in the yard on a summer evening under a strong, warm wind. That is the earliest and first memory of my life. The second was deep, dreamless sleep. But I decided to dismiss such experiences because they are animalistic, and therefore-worthless. I'm sure you don't understand what I mean; let me explain. For example, when I was given Promedol (a narcotic opiate) several times before surgeries, I experienced the same serenity as in that childhood memory - so what, should I say that serenity from a narcotic opiate is the most significant thing in my life? Of course not. The same goes for deep sleep: we cannot assign value to unconscious states. Forgive me, I am not a poet.

And then I realized that what is truly valuable and significant in my entire life is not graduating from university, a good position, a wonderful family, buying my favorite brands like Lanvin, Marni, MM6, dinosaur teeth, meteorite rings- I didn't even think about those things. They all seem so petty and insignificant, so empty. No, the most valuable thing turned out to be the time I spent with books. My activities... like studying the entire cartography of the Pre-Raphaelites on Wikimedia Commons, exploring architecture, noting down my favorites -and then learning their descriptions, founding years, details, specific locations, overall views. None of this will ever be useful to me anywhere, yet I consider these pursuits the most valuable in my entire life.

I was very interested in the method of memorizing large amounts of information- it's called the Memory Palace. I have fountain pens and notebooks where I've copied numerous notes from books. I've memorized what I've written by heart - various pieces of information, such as how in 1807 Napoleon bought the entire ancient part of the Borghese collection in Rome, which is now in the Louvre, and which pieces remained - Raphael, Caravaggio - I know every one. I know the "Dies Irae" by heart, passages from the Iliad in Greek, and how many meters high the vaults of Santa Croce are. Before going to sleep, I often retreat into my Memory Palace and fall asleep there.

Forgive me, towards the end I've exhausted myself and don't know how to conclude. Perhaps you could answer the question:
What is the most important, valuable, and significant thing in your life?

 

[lamy's sacred sleep]

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[NormallyNeurotic]

I honestly think that at this point the answer is

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[deny_conformity]

I'm not actually sure, probably the memory of playing games with my son, seeing him develop his skills and reactions from needing my help for tough sections to being able to do them for himself. I guess it's a gamer dad moment. After my divorce I know I'm going to miss most of these moments now and it's making me very upset.

 

[SchizoPolyGymnast]

As bizarre as it sounds...my life itself.

 

[Forever Sleep]

As cheesy as it sounds, I suppose it's love for my Dad. While it is motivated by who he is, the actual need or importance is not to hurt him. Which is why I'm still alive. So, a blessing and a curse really.

At one time, it would have been my creative work- which is still important to me but, isn't anything like the coping mechanism and great love it used to be.

I certainly have activities or special moments that are close to my heart. Same as you OP- some fond memories from childhood. A few interactions with animals filled my heart with joy abd I love nature. A robin hopped on my knee once. A few moments in computer games have really felt significant too. I suppose they are more like key important moments in my life.

 

[ScaredCutter]

my boyfriend and my 2 cats.

offtopic, i saw another thread of urs before and ur style of writing is very cool and interesting! i really love it and enjoy it! seeing how u make words flow together is so mesmerising

 

[Arvayn]

You know, you're actually a very skilled writer when you're not trying to express your, ah... 'liberated' views on sexuality. Bravo, truly. I enjoy your style.

For me, I had a period of listlessness and apathy after I lost my partner where I had no interest left in anything. I have always been a moral relativist, and a staunch opponent of foundational moral principles. The fact that no argument can be made without first relying on a set of axioms, facts that are taken to be 'self-justifyingly true' in spite of any lack of explanation or evidence for them, to me, is evidence that this conscious experience is all a big falsehood we project our thoughts onto. We must act as if certain things are true, even if we know they're not, just to have a hospitable and tolerable life. So, cognitive/logical reasoning cannot be a source of value for me.

When I had my partner, I felt emotion on the daily that motivated me to act and kept me moving. I had no real reason to deny it. That was the most valuable thing in my life. With her gone, not only did it cause a traumatic emotional shock, I was suddenly completely detached from everything. I spent months upon months doing nothing each day, and I truly mean nothing; I sat in my bed and stared at the ceiling thoughtlessly until I fell asleep again. I neglected to care for myself and I almost starved to death on multiple occasions, if not for medical intervention. The only days on which I accomplished anything were when I had episodes of euphoric mania, which I believe I would not be alive today without.

After being put through a recovery process, I did a lot of thinking about what I went through, and I felt a sense of pride in the fact that I had so many close brushes with death and yet I lived. I started to develop a passionate interest in the subject of death, and the taboo in general. Neurological shifts caused me to become even more clinical in demeanor than I already was.

So, nowadays? The most valuable thing in my life is devoting myself to thanatology and becoming as well-versed in it as possible before I am ultimately taken. It's about the symbolism and sending a message, and less about chasing material success. Becoming aware of this world makes me feel purposeful, and it calms me to know that I will die having made my peace with life and death. I also appreciate my closest friends for the unconditional support and unquestioning loyalty they show to me, which compels me to show it back; again, all of these things are primarily emotional motivations. Which you made a very good point about, because emotions can easily be artificially replicated... But that's just the human condition for you. Artificial and subjectively meaningful.

 

[Dür Ktulhu]

Thank you to everyone who left comments.
Just a handful of people, yet what different facets of what can be most precious to a person -from memories with a child and love for a parent to life itself, from lost meaning to that found anew in thanatology. It is so wonderful; these little confessions are incredibly valuable.

So, today, I will tell you about Stendhal syndrome. When I first read about it, I did not think I could become educated and complex enough to experience it.
And yet, I did. Undoubtedly, to experience it requires an enormous cultural background. Upon reaching a conscious age, I spent all my time on studies: while my peers were having fun, I was studying Aristotle; while my peers were spending time with idiot friends, I was comparing translations of Goethe; I squandered my youth on learning and the arts. Of course, this now gives me an unprecedented advantage over simple people in society, but, as Dostoevsky might say, that is beside the point.

First, I will tell you about painting. All schools and movements culminate in one period as their peak - the Renaissance. The entire dawn and pinnacle of this art is marked by the High Renaissance period and its three main representatives, namely: Raphael, Michelangelo, and Leonardo. No one is destined to surpass them, and no one ever will. They painted the most brilliant pictures in the history of humanity as a species. First place, I think, belongs to The School of Athens, but I digress.

Not everyone has realized it- but the arts are degenerating. This is neither bad nor good - it is simply how the world works. Everything changes. The last offspring is cinematography, or rather, art-house cinema. In it, as in painting, there are three main figures marking the highest peak: Tarkovsky, Bergman, Bela Tarr. There is nothing beyond this. Once you reach this - that's it, there is nowhere further to go. But what are they to the average person? Take an ordinary person and force them to study Dante -they will neither understand nor appreciate it. For example, to understand and feel Tarkovsky, you need to know the entire bibliography of Dostoevsky and Chekhov intimately and thoroughly: all his films concern Dostoevsky and quote him. I would not have been able to understand Bela Tarr had I not read everything written by Nietzsche, especially Thus Spoke Zarathustra, which I have read about seven times. High art-house cinema, possessing the quality of genius, is permeated with hidden symbolism understood only by educated viewers.

But let's move to the main point. Stendhal syndrome is a condition where, under the influence of overwhelming beauty, a person loses their senses or falls into hysterics -a state of delirium. I remember watching Tarkovsky's Nostalghia. His imagery is always secret symbolism, references, messages to the viewer. It was already difficult due to the emotional weight, and then that scene with the candle began - a complex metaphysical scene shot in a single take, symbolizing human life. I remember experiencing it alongside him, as he carried the candle to the end; I remember the state of existential shock, but I held on. And then- the second scene: a gaze into the camera, transcending time and space, a look at the viewer, the observer -the camera moves to the right, figures standing in an open field enter the frame one by one, a house behind them, the camera stops, closing and exhausting the entire picture, and suddenly, behind them, the sun rises. That was too much. Have you ever seen people writhing in hysterics at funeral processions? Descriptions are unnecessary. I was in the same state. But here, there was no semantic load; for the first time in my life, I sobbed and writhed in agony - from beauty. I remember, when I came to my senses- my legs wouldn't hold me - I clung to the walls... I do not wish to seem complacent or arrogant, I often hear accusations of this, no, I merely want to show the effect genuine art has. That is the criterion.
Tarkovsky is not watching; it is an experience. But keep in mind, there are mediocre nobodies who like to say they enjoy him to appear complex.

But enough. I think this story will be of interest only to a select few. Of course, few feel the same awe and reverence for Tarkovsky, but as I often say: if sacred scrolls fall into the hands of a cobbler, they will hold no value for him.

 

[violetforever]

the time i spend alone honestly

 

[FadingSnowFake]

The one person who showed me what love is.

 

[FatGringo]

My knowledge

 

[Dür Ktulhu]

You know, recently I wrote a rather self-satisfied post. I get into these moods sometimes - don't judge my cynical pomposity too harshly, but to hell with it. The point is, when replying to a user named Arvayn, I sent her the video Miserere Mei Deus, which always takes my breath away. And today, when I watched it once again while sending it, I've been under its impression all day, pondering Christianity and faith. Then, randomly on YouTube, I started rewatching the duel between Obi-Wan and Anakin. I got to thinking: of all characters - neither the Dark Lord, nor Sauron, nor anyone else - is as tragic as Anakin Skywalker. Following this train of thought, I played a video where Darth Vader visits Padme's tomb. And you know, I started crying heavily when Obi-Wan and his mother forgave him - not out of sentimentality or pity, but because I felt faith in people, faith in goodness... it's so sublime... I can hardly even continue describing this feeling, though I usually handle words well. But anyway, it doesn't matter. Lately, I've been experiencing very intense and rare emotions bordering on euphoria. It's a kind of platonic love for the world - but, ah, to hell with all this.

 

[naughtyNaughtyBear]

My work, and my best friend

 

[Deer_Dairy]

Usually, one thinks about such things either at the end of life or in catastrophic circumstances, and so it happened that I recently found myself in them. And I began to ponder: what is the most important thing in my life? The most precious and significant? And I couldn't come up with anything.

The first thing that came to mind was a memory from childhood: being in my mother's arms as she rocked me, wrapped in a blanket, in the yard on a summer evening under a strong, warm wind. That is the earliest and first memory of my life. The second was deep, dreamless sleep. But I decided to dismiss such experiences because they are animalistic, and therefore-worthless. I'm sure you don't understand what I mean; let me explain. For example, when I was given Promedol (a narcotic opiate) several times before surgeries, I experienced the same serenity as in that childhood memory - so what, should I say that serenity from a narcotic opiate is the most significant thing in my life? Of course not. The same goes for deep sleep: we cannot assign value to unconscious states. Forgive me, I am not a poet.

And then I realized that what is truly valuable and significant in my entire life is not graduating from university, a good position, a wonderful family, buying my favorite brands like Lanvin, Marni, MM6, dinosaur teeth, meteorite rings- I didn't even think about those things. They all seem so petty and insignificant, so empty. No, the most valuable thing turned out to be the time I spent with books. My activities... like studying the entire cartography of the Pre-Raphaelites on Wikimedia Commons, exploring architecture, noting down my favorites -and then learning their descriptions, founding years, details, specific locations, overall views. None of this will ever be useful to me anywhere, yet I consider these pursuits the most valuable in my entire life.

I was very interested in the method of memorizing large amounts of information- it's called the Memory Palace. I have fountain pens and notebooks where I've copied numerous notes from books. I've memorized what I've written by heart - various pieces of information, such as how in 1807 Napoleon bought the entire ancient part of the Borghese collection in Rome, which is now in the Louvre, and which pieces remained - Raphael, Caravaggio - I know every one. I know the "Dies Irae" by heart, passages from the Iliad in Greek, and how many meters high the vaults of Santa Croce are. Before going to sleep, I often retreat into my Memory Palace and fall asleep there.

Forgive me, towards the end I've exhausted myself and don't know how to conclude. Perhaps you could answer the question:
What is the most important, valuable, and significant thing in your life?

Similar to yours. The things I've learned about "insignificant" topics, knowledge about fields that interest me. And that part of my brain that can come up with brilliant ideas and create solutions, propose new procedures, and see connections where most people don't. It's pretty egocentric, sure, but I'm proud of it.

 

[SCHOPENHAUERBITCH]

Feels kinda bad reading lots of people having important memories with loved ones when all of mine are alone. This isn't as bleak as it sounds, I just have very positive experiences persuing my own hobbies. My favourites are probably when I first started writing for theatre at 13/14 and it was all so new and exciting.

 

[a65b]

for me my most valuable things in my life are my guitar and my 1m tall psyduck plush

 

[BullsDon'tFly]

To answer the main question: beauty. The fact that I'm uncapable of producing beauty, yet I can recognize it around me is my biggest regret.

or example, to understand and feel Tarkovsky, you need to know the entire bibliography of Dostoevsky and Chekhov intimately and thoroughly: all his films concern Dostoevsky and quote him. I would not have been able to understand Bela Tarr had I not read everything written by Nietzsche, especially Thus Spoke Zarathustra, which I have read about seven times.

I'd say it's not the most correct take on the matter. I've watched Stalker at 19 without having read any of Dostoevskij's novels or what Cechov wrote about and it struck me as if it was a sacred revelation. Same with Tarr, he was present at a screening of Satantango in my home city and after the movie ended, he answered some questions. All the people were trying to intellectualize the movie, to show they understood its deeper meaning, the philosophy that it contained. One guy asked about the role of water in his films with respect to Tarkovskij. He replied "Water? Oh, in Hungary it often rains, so roads have puddles. They're just there when I'm shooting." I know perfectly that it's not that easy, but his response shows that sometimes by struggling to reference what you're seeing to other things (movies/books/etc.) you can lose the focus on what you're watching. I'm not avocating to not educate oneself, but not to consider it a requirement to enjoy such things... Good art can also be understood by simple guys, it depends on what is its goal. Of course, the more culture you have, more tools you can use to analyze things. It should not be seen as a minimum level to approach them though.

 

[bloodandshavedhead]

Thank you to everyone who left comments.
Just a handful of people, yet what different facets of what can be most precious to a person -from memories with a child and love for a parent to life itself, from lost meaning to that found anew in thanatology. It is so wonderful; these little confessions are incredibly valuable.

So, today, I will tell you about Stendhal syndrome. When I first read about it, I did not think I could become educated and complex enough to experience it.
And yet, I did. Undoubtedly, to experience it requires an enormous cultural background. Upon reaching a conscious age, I spent all my time on studies: while my peers were having fun, I was studying Aristotle; while my peers were spending time with idiot friends, I was comparing translations of Goethe; I squandered my youth on learning and the arts. Of course, this now gives me an unprecedented advantage over simple people in society, but, as Dostoevsky might say, that is beside the point.

First, I will tell you about painting. All schools and movements culminate in one period as their peak - the Renaissance. The entire dawn and pinnacle of this art is marked by the High Renaissance period and its three main representatives, namely: Raphael, Michelangelo, and Leonardo. No one is destined to surpass them, and no one ever will. They painted the most brilliant pictures in the history of humanity as a species. First place, I think, belongs to The School of Athens, but I digress.

Not everyone has realized it- but the arts are degenerating. This is neither bad nor good - it is simply how the world works. Everything changes. The last offspring is cinematography, or rather, art-house cinema. In it, as in painting, there are three main figures marking the highest peak: Tarkovsky, Bergman, Bela Tarr. There is nothing beyond this. Once you reach this - that's it, there is nowhere further to go. But what are they to the average person? Take an ordinary person and force them to study Dante -they will neither understand nor appreciate it. For example, to understand and feel Tarkovsky, you need to know the entire bibliography of Dostoevsky and Chekhov intimately and thoroughly: all his films concern Dostoevsky and quote him. I would not have been able to understand Bela Tarr had I not read everything written by Nietzsche, especially Thus Spoke Zarathustra, which I have read about seven times. High art-house cinema, possessing the quality of genius, is permeated with hidden symbolism understood only by educated viewers.

But let's move to the main point. Stendhal syndrome is a condition where, under the influence of overwhelming beauty, a person loses their senses or falls into hysterics -a state of delirium. I remember watching Tarkovsky's Nostalghia. His imagery is always secret symbolism, references, messages to the viewer. It was already difficult due to the emotional weight, and then that scene with the candle began - a complex metaphysical scene shot in a single take, symbolizing human life. I remember experiencing it alongside him, as he carried the candle to the end; I remember the state of existential shock, but I held on. And then- the second scene: a gaze into the camera, transcending time and space, a look at the viewer, the observer -the camera moves to the right, figures standing in an open field enter the frame one by one, a house behind them, the camera stops, closing and exhausting the entire picture, and suddenly, behind them, the sun rises. That was too much. Have you ever seen people writhing in hysterics at funeral processions? Descriptions are unnecessary. I was in the same state. But here, there was no semantic load; for the first time in my life, I sobbed and writhed in agony - from beauty. I remember, when I came to my senses- my legs wouldn't hold me - I clung to the walls... I do not wish to seem complacent or arrogant, I often hear accusations of this, no, I merely want to show the effect genuine art has. That is the criterion.
Tarkovsky is not watching; it is an experience. But keep in mind, there are mediocre nobodies who like to say they enjoy him to appear complex.

But enough. I think this story will be of interest only to a select few. Of course, few feel the same awe and reverence for Tarkovsky, but as I often say: if sacred scrolls fall into the hands of a cobbler, they will hold no value for him

Crawfish boil (seafood boils) my cats and my three favorite teachers

 

[Spite]

My wife.

 

[tomame]

don't have anything or anyone valuable in my life .. a big reason of why i ideate on catching the bus

 

[yourmemory]

my girlfriend. i'd never tell them this, but i'll ctb if/when they leave me. also, my cousin - she's functioned as a sister for most of my life.

 

[Trilly]

The stuff on my PC. When the rest of the world was out to put me in the dumps, I always had stuff online to resort to and forget about it all for some time...

 

[albert_camus]

My cats (One of them is basically a grandma, but I hope she'll stay with me for another couple years.), my parents (I'm currently struggling with the thought of loosing them both soon. I hope it won't come to reality.), university (Even if it's stressful sometimes, it made me realize that I'm not as stupid as some of my teachers in school made me feel like.), music and drumming...

My friends too, but I'm feeling detached from some of them, because my life kinda changed radically.

 

[GodzillasBiggestFan]

my ability to act and do theatre. the ability to truly imagine and feel that i am another person in another world, and then share that world with whoever is watching the play, and whoever is on the stage with me. that's the most valuable thing in my life and the best feeling i ever knew.

and maybe i would also say my best friend, or maybe listening to my favorite music noah kahan. and godzilla and my godzilla stories i write

 

[whywere]

My being able to still get out of bed each morning under my own power and have the ability to help others and hopefully humankind.

Walter

 

[thermosgrenadine]

my most valuable thing is me. maybe not the person i am right now, but the person i want to become. i don't know if he'll ever show up but i'm trying to make the right moves to become a person /i/ can like, or who ive always known myself to be i suppose. i'm not very good at putting these thoughts into words because the whole "loving myself" thing is still so foreign

 

[darksouls]

time, because I have the least of it

 

[fedup1982]

My gf. She is my rock. She has stood by me in thick and thin and I know she'll be here for me for the rest of my life. She's amazing. And we are getting on better than ever.

 

[NameOfAction]

Music. Both listening and performing.

@Dür Ktulhu mentioned Stendhal syndrome, of which I wasn't aware until now. The term describes it perfectly.
I often experience a near orgasmic euphoria when listening to skilled vocalists sing. Opera, musical theatre, solo artists, rock and folk bands. Harmonies. A Capella.

I'm not skilled myself, not even remotely, but still it brings a different kind of joy to participate in the creation of music. To be a conduit. I do it alone, when people can't hear, because an audience ruins the pure magic of it, forces me out of the stream.

I suffer greatly from my lack of skill and training, but sometimes, when many things go just right, the music plays me. I no longer exists as a human person holding an instrument, I cease to be and dissolve into vibration and sound. I no longer inhabit my body and the fingers play without my input, my voice fills the air and becomes one with guitar.

It's the greatest pleasure of my life and I can only imagine what it could have been, if I had what it takes to be skilled.