It’s a conversation with myself. That’s what all this is.
And when it stops being that, when it becomes something else, the knowing fades.
When you have too many ideals, how can you expect to be satisfied with the non-ideal?
And is life ever ideal?
You can probably count the number of ideal moments you had today on one hand.
When I was walking home earlier today, on the highway, in the blistering sun, just before a police checkpoint: it dawned on me.
“Abandon everything. Block it all out. Or risk losing it all.”
It’s obvious to me now. The reason I hate small talk, the reason I hate minutiae: it’s because it’s the ultimate trivialization of life.
It’s what leads one into the realms of the mind.
You lose the feeling. And it’s all about the feeling.
How do you feel?
Who do you feel you are?
What do you feel you’re capable of?
Is it unmistakable or is it another fancy hotel room?
And why do you question it?
Is it because of how you feel when you’ve lost it?
Is it because you fear losing it again?
Because you feel that losing it’s inevitable?
Is losing it what creates the doubt?
This fear: would it really be wise to “conquer” it?
Isn’t this fear essentially a fear of mediocrity?
Would this even be possible?
When this fear no longer serves any purpose, perhaps it will leave of its own accord.
But at this point in time, it seems to serve as a signpost.
Its purpose is to point you in the direction of truth.
The truth that came to you today, as you blocked everything and everyone out.
These things, these people — it’s all so nefarious in its subtlety.
It’s so easy to slip back into the unknowing.
But this unknowing is false.
And it’s known to be false by the unmistakable feeling of “wrongness” that overcomes you when you’ve slipped.
The non-trivialization of life . . .
To live in an impenetrable bubble of knowing . . .
This is what I’m after.
This is where I want to live.
Small talk is an obvious trivialization of life.
Philosophical and theoretical discussion is a subtle trivialization of life.
I’m in such a peculiar position.
I don’t want to speak if the words aren’t worthy.
And they’re almost never worthy. It’s almost always nonsense.
This makes me an alien on this Earth.
And I’m okay with this.
I suppose the friction comes in the form of relationship.
Because this is acceptable to virtually no one.
Almost everyone will take it as a slight.
And to be honest, I don’t even have a problem with this.
But when the other hems and haws, I most certainly have a problem with this.
And I know it’s me — how it makes me feel — that’s really the problem.
But is it so bad if this repulses me?
Doesn’t this point me in the direction of truth?
To abhor the status quo. To hate society; its rules and trivial worries it’s imposed on the world.
It’s true that it destroys a certain level of peace. But perhaps peace isn’t what’s needed in this domain.
I’ve been mulling this feeling over for the past several days.
These things I consider important, in truth, are not.
These things, to a great degree, take away my peace.
But how can I be at peace if I’m not pursuing my truth?
And the truth is, I have an overwhelming desire to bring this unmistakable feeling into reality.
I’m unable to abandon this desire, because I desire it more than I do peace.
Peace can be had on the journey. When I’m immersed in it is often when I feel it the most.
And so any attempts to abandon this desire for peace is a massive contradiction. It simply cannot work.
It will always be nagging me in the back of my mind.
If anything, this is yet another example of why creating and following rules is so problematic.
This knowing comes from a strange place. It may very well be indescribable.
But I know you have this knowing too.
Why else would you be reading this?
It’s not self-important. It exists in spite of its lack of importance.
It’s a place of satisfaction. A place where satisfaction can’t help but come. A never ending supply.
It’s not “the moment”. It may be experienced in the moment, but really it’s another world.
And maybe you don’t know how to get there. Maybe it seems far-fetched.
But for some unknown reason, you know it’s accessible. You know it’s real.
You just do.
And the moments in which you feel its spirit are everything to you.
It may in fact be the only thing keeping you alive.
It doesn’t really “lead” anywhere. For it’s a destination in itself.
It’s anything but trivial. It’s very much the opposite.
It’s a well of life.
And the life you’ve lived up until this point has left you parched.
Just feel the feeling.
What is it?
What visions arise?
What you’re seeing: is it pure?
Or is it a chase for some superficial, temporary outcome?
Is there doubt?
Or is it unmistakable?
In this vision of mine, there are no others. There’s nobody sitting with me. I have but a few, distant connections, with those who have the knowing; each located in their own remote location.
Alone. Lost at the helm. Floating in space.
Feeding off of my own, purified energy.
An energy that’s taken years of self-purification to allow free-flow.
This is not a work of fiction.
I have no desire for that.
I have no desire to live in a fantasy.
Only living in this reality can bring ultimate satisfaction.
Anything else will not suffice.