Time warp is an actuality which we fail to notice and so is space warp, but both these things are difficult to notice until you start seeing spaces more than you see things.
Once you start seeing spaces, you'd realize it's not happiness that gratifies, but a thin, light being you experience, some call it peace, some call it contentment, how one can differentiate between the two is another matter we can choose to discuss at length.
And it is not efforts that prevent us from achieving that peripheral vision, nor is it failure that does. It's something else and you see it when you observe spaces. Ask any sportsperson when he performs at his best and he'd tell you he can't explain, it's a zone he gets into where he doesn't need to try too hard to concentrate,but at the same time all would concur that as soon as that attention is compromised on, the zone dispels. So are we not supposed to be able to see that it's not the objects in front of us that we are to concentrate on, but where their boundaries blur. If you can see where something ends, you can also see where something begins.
So when nature offers happiness through different media, it is offering you objects, but what you need to see are the spaces. If one has ever experienced the peace that results when stares into the blank, one might find it a likelier point to agree to. And then you might also find it easier to understand why theory of uncertainty makes sense.

From myth of Sisyphus, an essay by albert camus ...

You have already grasped that Sisyphus is the absurd hero. He is, as much through his passions as through his torture. His scorn of the gods, his hatred of death, and his passion for life won him that unspeakable penalty in which the whole being is exerted toward accomplishing nothing. This is the price that must be paid for the passions of this earth. Nothing is told us about Sisyphus in the underworld. Myths are made for the imagination to breathe life into them. As for this myth, one sees merely the whole effort of a body straining to raise the huge stone, to roll it, and push it up a slope a hundred times over; one sees the face screwed up, the cheek tight against the stone, the shoulder bracing the clay-covered mass, the foot wedging it, the fresh start with arms outstretched, the wholly human security of two earth-clotted hands. At the very end of his long effort measured by skyless space and time without depth, the purpose is achieved. Then Sisyphus watches the stone rush down in a few moments toward that lower world whence he will have to push it up again toward the summit. He goes back down to the plain.

It is during that return, that pause, that Sisyphus interests me. A face that toils so close to stones is already stone itself! I see that man going back down with a heavy yet measured step toward the torment of which he will never know the end. That hour like a breathing-space which returns as surely as his suffering, that is the hour of consciousness. At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is stronger than his rock.

'they can kill me, then they'll have my dead body, but not my ideas' this was simply a line in a movie I watched, till now. It is for one to realize where fearlessness comes from, it comes from fear that is faced without denial and with aplomb. I am in transit I guess, I am in transit. Let me hope there is conviction at the other end of it. I had known it once quite well once; conviction. I say don't let your wounds heal, don't forget, but make sure you remember them the right way.

If I were to write a memoir, it'd be titled me, he and the decree and for once I'd definitely wonder if it was his or mine. The decree. Till then let me assume to myself that sign of signs of things to come is yet to come. So let me, till then, remain.

this probably is the end and ones reaction now will define rest of the days. one can recede into a corner and feel hard done by fate or ones activities of late, but then what are reactions meant for if not to lead to something else that obviate such reactions and consequences thereof!
'change your sensibilities, change your sensibilities, this is not the way you talk, then why should this be the way you think, you talk mostly when you have arrived at a conclusion, then why should the process define your sensibilities?' one should question oneself thus in such times as times like these serve as much as a mirror as a stroke of impending change. And so I say maintain status quo, for being completely at peace with that status quo doesn't come about through pretence or force. it comes through patience and diligence towards achieving oneself. And so I say, maintain status quo.

there indeed will always be a tiny little corner of ones mind where something premature yet permanent lurks, it is that corner of ones mind
that hides itself from all that surveys the insides, all that threatens to disturb it. But then without facing those plausible causes of turbulence
prematurity can not be let go of. So suddenly one day you come to realize that to have enough courage to climb the summit of ones being one has to stoop to ones abyss.
ones abyss has to be completely ones own before ones summit does.

such was the intensity of the jolt that the reason behind it became insignificant and human mind lost touch with the root cause. are we victims of our mistakes or of the inability to name our mistakes properly. there is no wonderment expressed when the truth is overlooked and it is overlooked because of convenience. If we collectively and honestly look at ourselves in a mirror held by someone else with his eyes fixed at us, we might quite possibly be introduced to shame in the garb of self pity.
so, just as a gentle reminded, let me state it to you that he who feels snubbed does so himself.

Problem with rich editors is precisely that, they are all rich, too much formatting,notepads are supposed to be that, notepads.
fulcrum is tilted the movement you touch to balance it, and beauty of a fulcrum lies in being left to itself. so i resolved for a movement to leave the fulcrum as it was. 'i' came back after a while and i was satisfied with the coming back of 'i', sans any new age attitude, sans any efforts to force the normalcy back in. and at that movement i recalled caesar once more, the instance he must seen brutus amongst his killers and hopefully, and hope here is intentional if not genuine, he died a hero, for it is more important to die a hero than it is to live like one, for in the face of death our most potent fears surface, fears that we try to keep at bay all our lives and it is then, right then and there and nowhere else we are supposed to behave like a hero, that is when our true mettle comes to the fore. so i hope, caesar smiled. and also hope he didn't regret having trusted brutus.