The tragedy of being

The times when we complained to gods about the twists of destiny are gone, now, due to all sorts of philosophies, we choose to believe that life is as we shape it. The tragedy of the Ancient man was the bad alignment of a gods intentions, the battle was lost from the start and especially in this stayed the grandeur of his struggle. Lingering yours eyes on Munchs painting, The Scream, we immediately understand the tragedy of modern man. The tragedy of his life is born at the same time with him, even more the tragedy is raised in his blood, in his mind, in his soul. Sadness grows as a beloved flower, at the neighbourhood of conscience. Man has a tragic dimension and this becomes obvious when he starts feeling loneliness, sudden melancholia and pure despair. Not only does the tragedy live within us, like a genetical gift, but it is also lightened by our extravagant pleasures. The lack of measure is most of the time the main cause for tragedies. Love without limits, for example, love for the wrong person, love built on complete, passionate blindness is a trustworthy blueprint for dispair. When you forget who you are, when you despise natural laws, when you feel suffocated by your own flame, unable to think of anything else, you know then for sure that you are to become a tragic character in the enourmous scene of life. This play of loss has been played times and times again but when it is your turn, then you feel the sudden descent in the meshes of bad dreams. However, tragedy in human life starts from a game (of love, of choice, of power) and there are in life some games which come together with pain but the pleasure of them consists in the uplifting effect of deep sorrow.