How many times I heard my father told me:
When I was your age, children knew how to respect their parents. Then,
he would continue... When I was your age,
I had to walk to school ten miles. In the snow. Uphill. Crossing the river.
Both ways. I use to finish his sentence before he said it.
Do you think this is funny?
It was but it is not anymore.
I actually used this phrase last week when speaking to my daughter. For the
first time in my life I told her, well, when I was your age...
Unfortunately, by getting older you are not necessarily getting
smarter!
If you take away all the smoke and mirrors of the false smiles, and all the
deceit of daily life, you can clearly see that we are steadily chasing the
wind. In all seriousness, we've done nothing in our life but fool ourselves
thinking that we have achieved something.
Generations come and go, the world stays the same. The sun still rises, it
still goes down. Our fate is determined in advance, basically, our life is
meaningless.
At very early age society put us in schools not to learn the difference
between knowledge and stupidness, wisdom and foolishness. But we have not
learned much, rather it made everyone of us an uninteresting piece of self
satisfaction.
The smarter we are, the more worries we have; the more we understand, the more
life hurts.
It is just matter of time, at some point you too will conclude that there is
nothing great about the world you live in. Whether that is inspired by a death
of close relative or a friend, loss of job, divorce, the "awe-inspiring"
boredom, or a breakup of relationship, at that moment you will start wondering
what is life all about.
Life suffering is very necessary, we must suffer until we realize that
suffering is not necessary
Money, power, prestige, high heels, fashioned hairstyle, sure whatever defines
us, however we describe ourselves, think of ourselves, project ourselves every
feature, every trait, characteristic, feeling, belief, opinion, all of it...
self-ness, it is all worthless. Just an empty costume.
We are finishing our days on earth partially developed, developed in one side
only, growing in social area without any comparable growth in self-knowledge.
This has created the awesome feeling of being lonely.
We did not learn anything. We are still driven by greed and fear of being
hungry. Our religion, and philosophy is dead. We talk and talk because it
gives us pleasure, it fills our time. We talk our imagination, lying,
complaining and expressing negativity...what else is left?
The real difference between being young and old is not only physical
(getting fatter and fatter), nor even mental (more and more chatting with
yourself) it is the heaviness of all the years piled up behind. Some call it
experience, and having this considerable past doesn’t necessarily give us
any more wisdom.
It just gives us a heavy feeling of time so that things that happened last
week and things that happened in the 1990 sit side by side in our memory.
This is a big problem because it forcing us to talk all the time the same
stories. You can train yourself not to talk these stories, but the stories
will win in the end.
In this life nothing has any importance!
I am free to say that in 23 years of the investigation I have discovered the
truth - in this world, and life, nothing has value. Worldly
events force you to move, to make decisions , it arises the desire, fear,
anger, and you think that is "you".
Life is an empty, meaningless flow of events
that just go on and on. Whatever happens has little or no importance. People
are born, they live their pity lives... they eat, shit, fuck, work and work
and work more until they die.
To find the truth, to see what is real and to lead a genuine life is a goal
of everyone. Life is rarely straightforward as you may wish, it is both
profound and simple, yet process of understanding it tends to be very
difficult, if not downright complicated.
Don Juan categorized people into three types... One was farts, a smelly fart - very assertive, ready to tell you - Fuck you, are you sure that's the way to do it?
The other, golden piss - the sweetest, wonderful beings, they give words. They could die for you, or so they say. They won't, but they say it, which is very nice - nicer than the fart.
The third type, puke. Not fart, not piss, just puke - the kind that doesn't have anything to give, but promises the world, and has you begging...
- Carlos Castaneda
What type you are?
As you grow older, as time is passing by, you are becoming more and more a
coward. In 60s you lack the courage to do or endure unpleasant things. Some of
us appear as cynics but actually we are just timid, easily intimidated
person.
The house that we own, the money in retirement fund etc. do not really protect us. It fools us. There is no security or any rest in this world, the picture of old people on the beach is bullshit. It does not show, the pills for high blood pressure, the lack of sleep, rheumatism etc...
With the age, we start remembering the most embarrassing crap we did with perfect clarity. Instead correcting ourselves, we start correcting other people, our kids, spouse, neighbors, co workers. With age we have a fleeting and unreasonable sense of superiority over younger people so they start to resent us.
Practically, we are nobody
There’s no meaning to our life, no reward for achieving all the things
we've achieved. And please, stop saying that things were better back then
in our youth. When we were young, the life was cheaper, happier and people
were nicer. That is all bullshit.
We are not on our life journey. There is no journey. Everything that we know is false, there
are only lies. Life has no other explanation to give you. You may have concluded
something else but it is just matter of time when you'll see that you are
wrong.
For the end, I would like to give you my favorite poem.
... this incessant stubborn dying,
this living death,
that slays you, oh God,
in your rigorous handiwork,
in the roses, in the stones,
in the indomitable stars
and in the flesh that burns out,
like a fire lit by a song,
a dream,
a hue that hits the eye.
... and you, yourself,
perhaps have died eternities of ages out there,
without us knowing about it,
we dregs, crumbs, ashes of you;
you that still are present,
like a star faked by its very light,
an empty light without star
that reaches us,
hiding its infinite catastrophe.
Category
