A repeated observation is how transient everything is.
It starts in schooling, jumping from grade to grade and group to group. Continuing beyond, from corp to corp or startups too. If you’re neurotic enough so it even comes with others, online or not, marriage too, neighbors to pass. Cities forgotten.
After exchanging hands and laughs with hundreds of people over a third of a life – and reading some classics like some Seneca, or the Morose Man Schopenhauer, or of Dostoevsky, and sprinkle in some pseud-shamanistic outlooks with new age memoirs, with lukewarm reaching and Zen to balk too – unintentionally one may settle on a Muted life philosophy for awhile, affecting expression and resulting in a written catalog of everything slim and nothing grand between.
Though never putting it to words (true to the philosophy) such credos would list themselves as: Don’t try, Don’t want, Don’t think, Don’t reach. Let’s explore each one and, maybe – or hopefully – through explaining it, one may find acceptance or find an alternative, as it’s synonymous with Death, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but can be a little limiting.
Of course there are some things worth trying about. At least that’s what one may believe when starting out. It’s nice to get high marks, and it’s nice to see the results of your creations.
Yet it seems whether one vigorously pedals from here to the beach or meanders the corner turns of Suburban Lot C, the result, taking an integral over time, often even outs. Except in the latter you’re more relaxed.
By exerting yourself more than what your Essence demands, however it demands, however you do decide to move through the world, you can either run yourself rancid in sweat and get all the things done in half the time and double the burden, memories amounted – or you can meander along and experience all the same with a calmer reflection. Making the most of the less of it.
The argument against this is how Life would pass you by if you don’t try and collect all the experiences laden, though that brings me to the next.
This is some well-trotted territory and a benign section here, Desire is Suffering and etc. Because, of course, when all you know is transience, inevitably you’ll be forced to confront the painful detachings therein. That, if possible, it is best to not want anything, because you avoid the risks thereof, and you also start to stab and hopefully capture the heart of desire anyway.
That most if not all Desire seems to be a proxy for Unification, or mental dissolution. And it’s hard to realize that, so convinced one could be how more would make up every past transgressed state–more gadgets, more accolades and applause. But after the money, it’s the same, and after enough relationships, it’s even more the same, and climbing the top of corporate ladders, so the same again, and even setting out on your own and achieving your own unique set of goals, it’s a distraction at best – so persists that inexplicable border alienated to cross however close you’d get.
Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord. Our heart is restless until it finds rest in thee.
[…] human beings were originally completely round. Because they became too powerful and arrogant, the gods cut them in half. Since then, each half has sought to re-unite with its other half.
Seeing as any Desire isn’t ideal and whatever pulls or whatever warm body near is only a mirage, so it follows the same as the Zen trailblazers of yore reach for: don’t think anymore. After all, Desires spring about from Thoughts, but if you have no more Thoughts then you can enjoy this Eternity shared between us, rather than drown in Future’s Pasts and ideologies and self referential hauntings prodding within. This is why whenever there is writing on here, it’s as animist as can be, because the word “I” only can remind one of how far they’ve fallen and they’re sentencing themselves to torture with every invocation.
It’s not a coincidence that even in our driven-mad world of pharmaceutical delights how idolized the Flow state is. It ought to be!
Because it’s just another term for Stop Thinking. Flow state happens when you stop thinking and let something else take over: parts grooved in from the repetition or primordial upon first boot. Who’s the one breathing?
The most scandalous and damning property of Conversation – most amusing too – is the illusion that it has taken place. Further within that illusion, what could one hope to spark after? One’s still riddled mostly the same, alone trodden in this deserted plane – whatever party one could form shall render itself as the stake in later Acts, forcing some more Thinking, forcing some more Wanting, and why would one ever suffer themselves onto others or explain themselves to others when they seem to be in their Essence all smiling?
This is why it is best to not only limit your expression, leave it lowly-unconscious, and constricted from any narrative of self – but to not open the envelope if possible because it seems such letters will either mean nothing or will drive the next spasm of transience sickness. Why, exactly, would you reach or express anything when there’s nothing in the material world which’ll solve your ache?
Silence is the true upadesa. It is the perfect upadesa. It is suited only for the most advanced seeker. The others are unable to draw full inspiration from it. Therefore, they require words to explain the truth. But truth is beyond words; it does not warrant explanation. All that is possible is to indicate It. How is that to be done?**
As you can see, the more the philosophy develops, the more cocksure you’d get – smirking and smitten with the nothingness – that it’s not worth trying, there’s nothing to try for anyway (since all desires are scams), and that even trying more to write means thinking more and Thinking Bad.
Though even if you become convinced of these credos, nevertheless there’s always inclinations to act against them. That, despite the conclusion requiring one to stare at the wall for their satori, until the narrative entirely ceases–nevertheless thou mayest write another post talking about the state of the water.
Practically, unless you hijack your will and press onto it the need for immanent clarity of the animated illusion all around you, you’ll likely continue to desire, think, and reach, however reduced the volume.
So, while one breathes, one may as well try and dare to dream. To not render words as meaningless, but feet to crush the festered maggot throne, Death’s accomplice – toss the coffined existence.
As one sifts through this hidden ideology and sears a sensibility so immediately one may notice contradictions latent: how commendable the Flow state could save and yet one ought to Rarely Try? That words mean little but here’s another ~1.3k as sacrifice.
Floating along some forgotten souls of a river formed with all the hands clawing at the mouth or eyes, it becomes a little tiring to hold one’s breath. There are so many Flow states waiting and expression therein: an attempt toward Eternity rather than resigning oneself as another wave of consciousness to dissipate.
Ozymandias forgotten, but it wasn’t for a Future’s Day such monuments were constructed. It’s was for their Todays however the rule went. However cruel the nation was led, reaching toward a glory uncontested, the same as our Macedonian King: to shuffle past such river of souls and pave one’s own.
It all seemed so clever and Figured Out, but rising from the stupor so it was the morphine patch while the magic flew out the window.
One may not try, but thou mayest suffer all the same. May as well strike the aether in front of you if you’re so inclined. May as well bend it into meaning or a balloon animal for another to laugh about.
May as well forge some new beginnings within every resuscitated state.