Descriptive Mismatch

My expectations of life tend to differ from what I’m actually presented with. I don’t choose these expectations, they’re just the ideas that float into my thought stream. But when I’m struck with the obvious mismatch, I find it unpleasant, so much so that I seek out ideas to help justify the discrepancy and settle my discomfort.

Obviously I’d prefer to have ideas that already correspond with what I witness, or vice versa. I find it odd that I should have these seemingly unrealistic ideas — why not have thoughts that perfectly match my surroundings? So instead of actively participating in life, I’m typically sitting silently, wondering, “what’s going on here, what is this place!?”.

To me, life is a riddle to solve, a mystery to unmask. Because my expectations seem so off-kilter, I lack enthusiasm to engage. Lacking a foundation on which to stand, I am without bearings by which to navigate. If I don’t know where I am, then where am I to go? If lost in the woods, is it not recommended to remain still? And so I sit.

Sitting and observing life is pleasant — it’s the disruption from sitting, the excessive engagement, I find unpleasant. But as it will, life tends to force my active participation from time to time, which can be jarring, but sometimes enjoyable — and it’s nice to take breaks from quiet contemplation. I’ve often wondered if life will eventually align with my thoughts when I reach a certain age, because it feels as though I’ve been waiting for something. And so I wait.

Mortal Recapitulation

Decay and loss are what allow room for continual creation and growth — ends provide possibility for beginnings.

From the outside, play looks unimportant, meaningful only to the players — look to what incites interest and engage with that.

Pursuits provide a means of participating in life. To the eternal, outcomes are insignificant, without lessons or meanings — merely a fanciful frolic.

Observing life from within, engaging the senses, living is a gift to those perceiving with an observant mind, without fear.

Whimsical Reply

I guess I feel like an idiot for taking life so seriously for so long. I mean, it’s obvious once you realize it. I’ve been saying how nonsensical life’s been all along — well duh, it’s supposed to be, it’s a goofy tale of patchy-haired apes on a rock hurtling around a fireball.

Even the best life is merely a series of silly little tasks. Romance: we love each other up until we can’t stand one another. Raising families: a battle of who can annoy who the most until one side cracks. Then we attempt to justify why a particular endeavor is worthy, and not a dopey waste of time — but of course it’s all nonsense.

I hear your complaint, now hear my reply:

My friend, build a sandcastle, a big one in which you carefully pile and selectively shape moistened sand into something nice. It’s fun right, to design and assemble? But it’s sand, soon to crumble, a futile and dumb effort, but it provides a sense of accomplishment and seems worthwhile while in the act. That’s life: whatever is built will crumble — but the point isn’t the decay itself, the point of decay is to provide more opportunities to build.

Ends provide opportunities — ends are the impetus for creation. The world is in a constant state of maturation and decay, do not see this as loss but as constant growth. Without decay there’s no growth, the world would be complete and unchanging.

Every bout of play looks unimportant to the outside observer, but to those engaged, a simple game becomes a meaningful affair. In life, all avenues are provided, some being of no interest to you, thus appearing pointless. Therefore look to what interests you and engage with that.

Although their outcomes are pointless, these pursuits provide you with a life in which to participate. Within the infinite, no outcome can be meaningful, no lessons can be learnt — the most that can be offered is a whimsical frolic through a funhouse.

There is no test, this is no punishment, if it could be described as anything, it is a gift, a treat with which to engage the senses, observing life from within. Please accept it with an open and forgiving mind, without scrutinizing, and without fear. With this perspective you will find satisfaction, of this, there is no doubt.

Carefree Life

Just try to figure out your role in life, you can’t do it. Who knows from where inspiration comes or how long it lasts. Who knows if a daily grind will bore you into something new. Who knows what technologies will be invented. Who knows who will enter or exit your life. Who knows what feelings will develop or fade. Who knows what accidents or upheavals will transpire.

Do you incessantly attempt to deduce every aspect of fiction? Or do you simply let the story unfold? The movie will end how it ends no matter your analysis or prediction. Internal urges and external pressures will force you to act, conscious examination is unnecessary — you will make no choices. If choices were possible, your life would be vastly different than it is, yes? So relax, and watch.

A little guessing, for fun? Sure, but recognize its fancifulness. Know that your ideas about life in the future can only ever be wrong and severely limited. The past too, its consequences are unknowable, its variables vast, its facts incomplete. The dissection and scrutiny of life cannot change its course — “whatever will be, will be”.

It’s a silly little story. The gossip, the pooping, the hairs growing out of places, the costumes, the awkward interactions, the repetition — who would take this seriously? Oh? You didn’t get the memo? Oops. But that’s just how laid-back this place is, sorry brah. I mean, it’s kinda obvious, no? Weren’t flatulence and professional wrestling a big enough clue? Well now you know, so chillax. Don’t worry about a thing, just let it happen, ‘k?

Elementary My Dear

Existence is entertainment because every plot twist proves its dramatic nature. Around and around we go, no lessons ever learnt. Even the mystery surrounding life itself, the what and why pondered by its participants, exemplifies this drama. But such fundamental questions pale compared to our greatest interests: gossip, intrigue, scandal, and of course romance — the reality-show we call Earth.

The purpose and fundamental aspect of life therefore, is observation — the pure observation of the pageantry of life. Our consciousness seemingly outside, a watcher looking in. Individual outcomes and expirations are the mere shedding of skin cells, replaced each generation, but the plots persist, the show must go on.

Is it coincidence that our forms of entertainment on Earth are snapshots of life, vignettes of existence? Every book and movie reveals a clear indication of what this is. History is not a lesson, but fodder for fiction. But fair is fair, and some stories we witness, savoring juicy details from afar, while in others we partake, flung by fate through our assigned role.

And even when figured out, how quickly we forget, pulled from our realization back into life each second of the day. Urges and influences flooding our mind and senses, back, back into life. Nothing to see here folks, move along. But I see you, life, my awareness of your illusionary nature becoming more persistent. But is this a riddle I’m to unmask, or simply a sloppy coverup?

First Last

An excerpt from the fictional tales of Nathaniel Acorn.
Circa 1790. Massachusetts.

Using wealth as a means to determine status and worth, and ultimately power, results in the elevation of cutthroats and thieves to positions of prominence, and ultimately, to the highest ranks of society. Therefore, society must not ennoble wealth accumulation, lest it find itself a den of thieves.

If all men are created equal, and endowed by their Creator with the right to live lives in the manner most amenable to their nature, then surely it would be a violation of this principle to promote any man to a position above another, lest he wield influence over another’s course of life.

As it is written: whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant — even as the Son of man came not to be served, but to serve, and to give his life for the ransom of many. Therefore, those in the loftiest rungs of society are to be its servants, not masters.

There is but one Almighty, and none upon earth shall usurp His role as provider and receiver of praise, lest he find himself last in His judgement. Nay, let us therefore seek to remove all vestiges of privilege and power within our grand experiment. As it is written: no man can serve two masters, for he shall hate the one, and love the other — ye cannot serve God and riches.