What I am beginning to notice is a broader consistency, or pattern, of human desire and inquiry. No matter which field, no matter what metaphysical assumption, no matter what language or cultural background, people are seeking the same things. No matter if it is through God, Science, Philosophy, Spiritualism, Art, Music, or Politics, people are looking for the same thing. This thing that people are seeking is called as many different names as there are people in this world. This thing is explained in a seemingly infinite amount of ways too. For this reason it is almost a disservice to give it a name. Not even a disservice really, the name would simply be irrelevant. Or, only relevant to me. So as we name it we lose it. What we are trying to achieve, explain, and express, would no longer be the thing but the name or idea of the thing. So I will not name it. Continue reading Sharing Borders
Life is a process. The objective of this process is balance. Sometimes it feels like trying to balance to balance a perfect sphere on top of another perfect sphere in a moving car. Basically it feels futile. Sometimes this process is fun, but many times the futility of it, the absurdity of it, is too obvious and sobering. This is part of the process though, which makes it even more frustrating. Being consciously aware of the absurdity of the process, aware of how you react to it, and aware of how you should react to it all at the same time is mind-bending, and frankly exhausting. But the latter awareness, the awareness of how you should react to the process, is not really an awareness. It is an expectation. It is an expectation created by our minds and our societies.
I don’t like expectations. Expectations are distorted views of reality that attach people to certain imaginary outcomes. Maybe this is the key to why I find the process insufferable, the expectation of my reaction to the process. What is this expectation? How am I supposed to react to this process? Am I supposed to let pervasive suffering dominate my life? Am I supposed to be perpetually optimistic? Is my expectation even my own, or is it socially or culturally grounded? These questions only add to the suffering. My expectation is that the process will eventually lead somewhere, to some discovery of self, some revelation. But I also know that there is no end to this process. I do not know what happens when the organic body ceases to function, so I cannot say that this process ends in death. The awareness of our smallness, of our ignorance, of our perishability, is only balanced out by the awareness of our wholeness, our not needing to know but to be aware of, and our poetic mortality. But what balances out futility and absurdity? Continue reading Finding Balance Amongst Absurdity