I am Evile!

[wyld_dandelyon]

suricattus hath said so!  Does that not make it true?  After all, having read her books, and very much looking forward to reading more of them, I'd say she knows evil when she sees it.

However, this leads me to ponder the significance of a moment, and the significance in numbers, and other random and non-random things. 

I know that some of my friends would say that significance is only what we make of it--that me being someone's friend no. 666 on Facebook (especially on Facebook) is only significant because she posted about it, because she made it significant.  I suspect others would disagree, and say that some things (though probably not being somone's 666th friend on Facebook) do have significance, that they aren't random even though they might seem random.  For instance, I know a number of people on my friends' list read cards.

So, ontologically, which seemingly random things are significant?

This would be an easy question to solve if I was the protagonist in a story--
the writer could make of it what he or she wanted.  But in real life?

Are we the writers of our own stories? 

Can we always decide what's significant and what isn't?

 

Comments

[smoooom.livejournal.com]

Funny, I read an article on this just yesterday. OF course we write out own story, we may not always have control over what happens to us but we do have control over what we do with it. We all know people who just sit and wail Why me? and others who take a similar situation and yurn it around and make it positive.

I've decided that for far to long I've been reactive not active. Life is what you make it, and I've been making it unhappy for quite awhile now. I'm not sure where to begin to tell the truth I've been wallowing for awhile now. One step at a time I guess. It's meant to be though two days in a row with the same question? We are the masters of our own destiny.

[wyld-dandelyon.livejournal.com]

One day, the world decides to dance, not simply to be danced upon. So she calls for music, calls to the wind and the waves, the coyotes and birds, the bees and the thunder. Make me a song, she says, and come dance with me. And all you beings of flesh and of wonder, better step sprightly, because I'm stiff from all this laying around I've been doing, and I'd rather not step on your toes.