Wednesday, November 2, 2016

I am nothing. I will never be anything

It's easy to practice yoga when I'm happy, when everything around feels right, when I feel love, support, appreciation. I jump out of bed and run to the mat, simply move through Sun Salutations with excitement and a feeling of happiness. It's easy.

And then days come when my world crumbles. This life that felt real and joyful is suddenly no longer there. I wake up feeling lost, empty and purposeless, it’s a part of life I am told. I need to feel sad to appreciate the happiness. I need to lose and to see what I have. This is what ultimately life is about. Yes, I did read this somewhere, many times.

When I think of happiness, I often mean the experience of wonderful emotions like joy or delight. I may consider a relief to be happiness too. Or well-being, or the experience of contentment combined with a sense that my life is good, meaningful, and worthwhile...

Not really true! Actually, it is bullshit. Joy, delight, relief, well-being, contentment are the building blocks of me as an individual but I don't recognize it. My very search for these things makes me unhappy. As a consequence my happiness is a temporary state of mind between two sorrows.

I believe happiness is reliant upon the acquisition of something new or something different. I am constantly chasing, but never attaining. Often times, I search for new things in wrong places...

... Of course, my primary goal in blogging is to help myself cultivate happiness in my life!  If I just for a second forget my problems and pay attention to writing these words I am, just for a moment, a little bit happier then before. And if I laugh while I'm writing my posts, that is even better.

I feel good when I create new post and watch visitor stats increase. Yes, the blogging is a source of daily inspiration. Sometimes I write a new post with great expectation that my readers, my colleagues, family, and friends will like it. And then I get disappointed because my post hit hard bottom in click-number.

I became aware that my writing and thinking skills, and my creativity, sarcasm, and humor are not what I think to be.

Nothing really matters.

It's extremely melancholy to realize that nothing has any meaning, that life is essentially meaningless. It's very disillusioning to get that no matter what I might accomplish, it disappears like smoke in the air; that no matter what service I might attempt to perform, it's like an insignificant grain of sand upon an infinite beach.

Nothing matters at all. It's all insignificant in the end. If not today, then tomorrow. If not in a thousand years, then in a million, billion. The whirling clusters of galaxies don't even notice. Not only that, but the fact that everything is insignificant and nothing has any intrinsic meaning doesn't mean anything either. All the meaning is supplied by me.

I supply the judgments - this is good, that's bad, this should happen, that shouldn't happen. Existence has no judgments about itself; it has no meaning, it doesn't need or want any, to speak metaphorically. All the "good," "bad," "right," "wrong," etc. is product of my thoughts.

Existence not only doesn't care about me, it's not even aware of me. Whatever I might ever do to make a difference in the world of my little corner of it is like a drop in an infinite sea  - meaningless, empty. In fact, I'm like an empty characters in a video game, or like a robot in a machine factory pondering what this is all about.

I really get this as I walked yesterday from 3 to 5 pm, around High Park in a complete daze. But I realized one more thing, because life had no meaning, because nothing really matters at all and everything is purposeless, then my life and efforts don't matter, and neither did anything else.

It was a powerful realization of my own insignificance that it became a source of a joy. So much so that I burst out laughing - I couldn't stop laughing for some time - and then I began to cry.

Share Share on Facebook Tweet Share on Google+

like on facebook
Most Popular: