It’s hard to know and I might sound sullen. Life has dealt me a knock along with millions of others. A psychotic break which sees me on daily medication. Before it I was pursuing a dream or maybe a goal or teaching and writing but now I feel the teaching would be too stressful. Its not that I am bothered that I am no longer pursuing goals and dreams its more that I seem to be wrapped up in the feeling that I am dreaming. What I mean by that is that everyday reality, the ordinary to and throw of existence, has a dream like quality which I seem to enjoy.
After my breakdown I seem less concerned with chasing things and more content with experiencing things. I get by on benefits and seem to have enough for food, coffee and the daily news and I surprise myself with how content I am at doing nothing? I can’t work out if this is positive or negative. Where is that drive? That push? It seems futile since we just live and die.
Before my break down I was a Buddhist and believed in a continuation beyond death. Now I feel we live and die and there is nothing beyond anything. And I’m OK with it. It seems I have moved through the existential aspect of this illness. The other aspect was the myriad of conspiracy theories that ran around in my mind which too have gone. It would be too much to say I am awake in any enlightened sense just accepting of my condition. To be born and die. This fills me with a new confidence.
Life is moving into control firmly in my hands. Even in Buddhism all conscious traces and memories and notions of self disappear, and only fragments of an unconscious self continue.
We live. We burn. We burn out like candles. We are all clueless animals scuttling around in the dark.