Skip to main content

The Intricacies of Overthinking


I find myself caught in a web of overthinking, a habit that seems ingrained in my logical mind. Perhaps there's really nothing to worry about, just a phantom of paranoia that I've conjured up in my head. It's a maddening cycle, where simple truths get tangled in complex thoughts. But isn't the essence of philosophy—the love of wisdom—to distill the complex into something simple?

I can't help but recall *The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy* and Deep Thought's cryptic answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything: “Life is paradoxically coincidental to the ironical tyranny applicable to the unparalleled definition of reverse entropy.” I've spent years trying to unpack that phrase, memorizing it, turning it over in my mind as if the key to understanding the cosmos lay hidden within its twisted logic.

But what does it really mean? Life, in all its chaotic and spontaneous nature, seems to mock our attempts to impose order and definition upon it. The phrase suggests that life is full of coincidences that appear paradoxical, governed by an ironic force that challenges the notion of absolute order—a "tyranny" that tries to confine life within rigid definitions. "Reverse entropy" hints at the idea of life moving against the natural tendency toward disorder, yet not in a straightforward way. Instead, it does so in an unpredictable, unparalleled manner, defying our expectations and labels. In essence, life is a series of spontaneous events that refuse to be neatly categorized, always shifting and evolving beyond our control.

Yet, in my pursuit of these intellectual puzzles, I often lose sight of what truly matters—the simple joy of thought itself. It's not the resolution of the puzzle that brings satisfaction, but the dynamic process of thinking, the spark of happiness that arises when the mind dances with ideas. But here lies the irony: in focusing too much on the details, on the minutiae of facts and theories, we often overlook the beauty in simplicity.

Life, in all its chaotic spontaneity, defies the rigid structures we try to impose upon it. We tend to notice every little detail, generalize them, and then create paranoid narratives that rob us of our peace. In doing so, we forget the basic truth: happiness is often found not in the complexity of our thoughts but in the simplicity of our existence.

Deep Thought’s statement from *The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy* could be seen as a reflection of this truth: life resists our attempts to categorize and define it in absolute terms. It is self-directed, ever-changing, and full of spontaneous variations. To live fully is to embrace this spontaneity, to find joy in the unplanned and the unpredictable.

So perhaps the lesson is this: rather than getting lost in the details, we should learn to bask in the simplicity of life, to let go of our need for control and certainty, and to find happiness in the moment, just as it is.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Blank Verse Poetry

I ran this morning. Gray sky, nothing special. Weather that doesn’t force you to feel anything. Usually, I wander without purpose. Today, something stopped me. Time is a trap. We pretend it’s limited, but it isn’t. So we rush through it—steps, choices, life—until it all blurs. The small things disappear. The smell of earth, the quiet air. Gone. A song got stuck in my head. “I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” Unwanted. Persistent. How did it get in? Maybe fate. Maybe nothing. I don’t believe in destiny, but here I was—stuck in the sound, stuck in a loop. The world paused inside me. I didn’t move. The day went on. Hands trembled—not from connection, but from the weight of existing. Scars on skin—maps of past failures. Nothing clean, nothing clear. I touched a cheek. No softness. Smoke? Habit? Grip loosened—like sanity slipping. Wanting to let go, but afraid of the emptiness that follows. I kissed a cheek. A stupid move. A laugh broke the silence. A glitch. A mistake. Coffee a...

The Slow Death of the Familiar Lie

The 2025 elections just ended. Not with fireworks, not with riots—just the quiet unraveling of yet another chapter in our nation’s long and complicated dance with democracy. There’s something different in the air this time. Something subtle, like the way dusk falls before you even realize the day is gone. You feel it before you name it: a shift. Not seismic, perhaps not even visible to the untrained eye. But there, like a whisper at the edge of a crowded room. People have grown wiser. And no, this isn’t naive optimism. It’s not the kind of blind faith that wears campaign colors and chants slogans. It’s the kind of wisdom that comes from repeated heartbreak—from choosing hope too many times, only to be betrayed by men in suits and smiles. From believing in change only to see it morph into the same old trapo politics dressed in newer fonts. “Pain is a brutal but effective teacher—especially in a country where memory is often the first casualty of every election cycle.” But maybe ...

Stars and Songs

It’s 2 am and I am still awake. Though I had a long nap this afternoon, for some reason, my stubborn brain suddenly erupts in these manic streaks. My mind suddenly reboots itself and in a couple of minutes, I become as hyper as a kid who just ate 27 chocolate bars.  Since it’s pointless to lie down and struggle to find the best position, I took my laptop, go out at the porch and started writing. As sat there, I looked at the heavens and there shines my moon together with the stars. The sky was barren of clouds and you can perfectly see how the earth is blanketed by the dark sky as the moon and the stars gave it an enchanting touch.  The moon’s light is waning, so are my thoughts. I guess I am lunatic as I can write lots whenever the moon goes full. I consider the moon as my muse so I wondered, Why can't I shift my obsession to the stars?  I think this is quite improbable. Stars are illusions, I mean, most of the time, the light that we see from these stars are actually t...