Life is falling ten thousand feet out of the sky, in an airplane, and all you have time to do, is put on your own oxygen mask.
There isn’t enough time to second guess. There isn’t enough time to ponder the best possible outcome, of every possible outcome. All that is humanly possible, is to accept the constraints within you are operating, for your own survival at the time.
But what if you are someone who doesn’t value survival, as much as you value, other things? Well, then you die.
And that is the fact of life, that is reality. If you do not do what it takes to survive, you fucking die.
At the end of the day, that is all we *can* do, *actually*.. is die. All of us die. We can’t really stop doing that.
It bothered me as a kid, I really thought about it a lot, for years it seemed like, I can’t remember. That dragon flies, only live ten days, and then they die. And I asked, “how do they die” .. and someone explained to me, they simply just drop dead.
That is what they have always done, and always will continue to do- in the millions, and no one has ever cared about it, or given it a second thought, or appreciated the shortness of their little lives. No one can protect you from that truth of life, and this fact.
Sometimes I wondered as a child what my purpose was, here. What was I put on this earth, for. I embraced that I would never know, even in death, because it wasn’t important that you necessarily did know… sometimes it could even be counterintuitive, if you did know, would you end up or be able to align with that purpose, if the natural way things unfolded and your actions were tainted by this knowledge…
I wrote to people who didn’t exist, on other planets, that I made up in my head. And I told them that I wanted to go home. I knew, I wasn’t delusional. I knew that these people weren’t real, and I made them up. The act of writing was satisfactory, to re-stabilize myself while enduring some sort of stressors or, whatever it may be. Pressure makes diamonds.
At the end of the day, it was just an effort to find comfort, peace, safety, and an illusion, of a home, of somewhere I belonged, truly. Somewhere to be loved, to be free, from all the things there were to bear witness to in this life.
I wanted it all to make sense, as well. I wanted to know, why this was happening, and why I had to bear witness to it. As if it was like being thrown into the 7th rung of hell, and I’m just watching it, eat me alive, and everyone around me. There had to be some sort of explanation.
I was not ever able to find this explanation, and though when I was young I had many questions, when I got older, I stopped asking things like why, as much. Because my inability to find the answers, it wasn’t for not trying… life was easier, and livable, when kept fairly simple. The path of least resistance if you will.
I found where I thought I should be, happiest, and when I was there. I was. But i hadn’t accounted for the future. I wasn’t the type to think very far ahead, or worry about the future. Which is very lucky. Ignorance is bliss. I say I was lucky because I got to experience life haphazardly, happy go lucky, and free spirited. And bear witness to things that were beautiful. Without anything tainting it, I mean it was totally pure, totally and fully in the moment and genuine.
When I got older I lost the ability, to just enjoy the present moment, it got taken away from me, innocence lost. A lot of people do seem to be in this state, and remain in it for much of their lives. An autonomous and natural flow, without questioning much about anything, while experiencing it first hand. It unfolds onto them, like a narrative.
I think that being traumatized or experiencing extreme duress or stress, harm of some kind or great pain, loss, or devastation, can wake you up out of this day-dream like state, that some were so lucky to have been in.
Everyday I am waking up more and more to the things I never noticed before, it is like I was sleep walking. I ask other people, “are you seeing this?” But, no one really seems to care. It’s not, apathy, though. A lot of them are fairly happy.
I tried to find my own ideas of what happiness is, to me. Aren’t we all just making it up as we go? And I thought maybe this, or maybe that, or maybe this. As if it was something you could achieve, in the finite crosshairs, between sacrifice, and inspiration.
But I’ve found a lot of it, in very simple things. The warmth of the sun. A coffee cup I really like. The smell of orange citrus. Talking and laughing with those closest to me, it doesn’t matter about what.
I was happy when I had things like hope, a willingness to try. And I wonder, where everyone else gets it from. While I seem to have so little of it. What am I missing, what did I do wrong, what did I do to deserve this.
I knew, I felt a bit lost. So I tried to find myself, and carve out of life, some form of survival, and a better tomorrow. Through all these little things. Whatever it may be. Writing is one. Recovery is one.
I’ve come to understand my shortcomings, more and more. I’ve tried to create synergy, where there is none realistically.
I feel like at the end of the day, all I can really do, is tell people what they want to hear. Because otherwise, they’ll put your head on a stick.
When i find myself asking, what for. In regard to, what is the point, in anything. I wonder, is it just a chemical imbalance in my brain, something wrong with my body, my neurotransmitters. Is this something caused by, neural pathways and, decades of complex trauma. Who fucking knows. There could be nothing wrong with me at all. I’ve come to understand, and not just knowing it cognitively, but understanding it, in a way that has much more depth to it than that, intrinsically. That doing it for you, is the best option, with the likelihood of best outcomes.
Not necessarily the reward you were expecting, the cheese at the end of the maze, that we are chasing, in this genuine rat race. It’s not to get any sort of cheese. It’s not something material when you invest in yourself, you might achieve, the tiniest bit of inner peace, from the storm of constant wondering. For example.
I feel like, all anyone was put on this earth for, is simply to save themselves, from their own selves, and it is very much an individual journey of ones own eternal soul, it is an individual experience we were put here for.
There is this notion that everyone is here, to serve the millions of others, as if we are some sort of collective. But we are individuals. That is the reality. We just simply don’t like the taste of it. Because it is cold, and dark, the idea we came into this life alone, and will all ultimately, experience death alone. No one can hold your hand through that journey. No one can be there with you in spirit. Even if you die at the same time.
We just happen to be living together, and dying together. And all of anything that occurs, we don’t know whether we can boil it down to happen stance, or the planets, or some spiritual practice guiding it, or the belief in fate. Is it random, is it something, beyond our wildest understanding, pertaining to subatomic particle motion and laws of fucking physics. None of these things have given us hardly any answers, and it’s hilarious, the confounding amount of time and effort that has gone into trying to “find” god, to “find” explanation, to “find” reason, and purpose.
If we knew all the answers, it would likely taint the process.
