Lessons in Zen and the art of Existing

But existing isn’t living.

Everything is and isn’t, and that’s the big contradiction. That we were taught to believe in duality, yet the very idea of duality itself is so abstract, so vague and so inconsistent. So mismatched. There’s this idea that everything has its opposite, that life has it’s grand scheme and that we’re all meant to be a part of it, intricately woven, like our parts in this world actually mean something, as though we’re more than just a happy accident in the great adventure of life.

Yea. Right.

See, I do buy into the whole “a lot of littles can make a big difference” theory. I do, don’t get me wrong. I am neither mocking nor cynical. I just… am. 

Neither this, nor that. Not anything really, but everything all at once.

I don’t think anyone really notices anything, and I mean really notice, not just see or observe, because I’ve come to realize that there is a difference. To the naked eye, in the eyes of the beholder, to each his own… There are, I believe, these quiet moments of genuine terror, where nothing you feel is felt, where nothing you think is taught, where everything is a mess, and I think, maybe, that’s the idea of life.

Imagination takes you places that reality can never fulfill, and it builds up the empty within you until you’re full of it. Full off it. It’s hard to be content, isn’t it?

You said earlier in such a sure tone, that you know me. But how could you, when I barely know myself?

I imagine you have red curls, and bright eyes. The kind of piercing eyes that looks through souls and your voice is sharp with witty innuendos and bitter sarcasm. The humourless laugh of a boy who’s seen too much, but hasn’t really left adolescence yet. I imagine that if our lives were different, if we lived in the same worlds, you and I would spend endless hours trading epiphanies; one after the other, phrasing them into pop-psychology and pseudo-intellectualism and maybe we’ll actually scale Maslow’s pyramid and conquer limbo.

Because, isn’t that what it’s all about? The journey and not the ending? Or is it the ending that counts more? It doesn’t matter where you go, as long as you end up somewhere. But… wait. That doesn’t sound right.

Does it?

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