In the recent months, three people (I know) have had a close encounter with their ends. I have known all of them fairly intimately. Does their brush with "D" (death of course) bother me? Not really. I am minutely aware of their mortality and mine. What's kind of triggered in me, is a strange with obsessive examination of my own life.
What I am seeing is offputting. Let me explain - I am observing the bizarre games we play with each other (I play with others), and I wonder, do I need to play these games at all? Something about the futility of our banal every day. Like do I need to be fret that, the plants were watered 30 mins later than usual, or should I suggest to someone that the red she is wearing is quite blinding, or should I fight for a cause on twitter (or even in real life)?
What does matter? In years of living, all I have realised that being happy with yourself, and with someone else too - in that moment is important. Almost to the point, that that might be the only thing that matters. I am true mercenary in that sense, I will always encourage happiness today over almost everything else. For myself and for folks I can influence.
As a side fallout, I don't want to speak about operational issues with anyone anymore. In the past month, I have virtually not spoken much at all. I have been looking inwards (into what is a hollow tumbler), and grappling with the deep vacuum inside.
A bit like urban meditation, but in the J Krishnamurthi school (unlike the Vipaasna school...which I am not good at anyway). As an example, I met my brother after many years. Even with him, I could hardly speak 10 sentences in 10 days. We even drove together for a few hrs, and even in that, I could hardly bring myself to speak.
So - what does it take for us as solitary individuals or as friends to be happy, to be in the moment? My answers so far, include awareness. A drink (yes, I love my drink- be it coffee or the peated brown thingy). A smoke. A honest to goodness conversation, about the dead fish and the smiling skies.
And yet, why cant we do enough of that with our friends, with our children? If wonderful conversations are the only games that matter, why cannot we do more of that? If doing something creative is a real way to experience the moment of being alive - why do we diss it all the time, in our own lives and as a collective experience?
In times like these, I have been also obsessively working, reading and sometimes stealing a drink. Is that a journey to escape? Why does it feel like I am more lost, and more entangled and yet totally disenfranchised with my world? Why does it feel lonely? Why does it feel like there is no cul-de-sac - its rather a road to nowhere?
The night is darkest before dawn, is the kind of BS, that I tell myself - was never true and never will be. There are parts of the universe where darkness is absolute. They have been waiting for the dawn forever. I will join that team for today.
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