Ok, that’s a bit depressing. I’ve left that darkened room now to enjoy some sunshine. I figure if everything’s pointless, why not enjoy life, have a laugh. I mean, dying laughing, blotting out the pain, living for the weekend, that’s got to be the least, worst way out.
I wondered round the comedy clubs, the back of my TV, surrounded myself with the dark and biting, the light and fluffy, the crazy reckless and the near insane. Each laughed and passed seconds, but many flew from height to depth, some only found humour in a bottle, some were sadder than the depressed, and some were already escaping this life and knew nothing of it. Each of the pleasures of the flesh, from the bathhouse to the brothel, via the arts and the pulp again these are all in vain, meaningless; Another someone attempting futile meaning on stage big enough for their ego alone.
Laughter and pleasure are a form of madness, they have no point, they accomplish nothing. Another meaningless end of human trying to find a point.
If all is meaningless as I am guessing, then how could I do that which is futile. In my pursuit of meaning, of a point, a greater than I and mine, I need to embrace foolishness, futility and mess. I’d like to drink to drunkenness, yet be able to observe myself mid-binge and understand our escapist tendencies. Maybe the place to stand to find a reason is where there is least reason, from that low vantage point I may see the top in clearer perspective.
And yet how many pursue this path and find the grave instead of the sky.
It’s become clear to me that being wise makes you sad. Or at least introverted. The idiot has a smile, the sage a frown. To know is to hurt, ignorance can be bliss.
The photographer, the journalist, the disaster tourist, they know. For their own twisted reasons they can’t flick the channel when the pictures of starvation, AIDS and humanity’s inhumanity flows. The camera has to keep whirring, the keyboard has to keep clicking and they know. How many can be happy? They are the kings of compartmentalism, or the ones on suicide watch.
These people and I, having sought truth and wisdom must seek elsewhere.
So I tried achievement, having never truly felt like a son who could inherit and be happy I needed to work and earn my worth. I achieved great feats, finished great projects. My grand designs were visited, documented and splendoured. Not only building monuments and dwelling but businesses and farms, seeking after the way of completeness. I made gardens of great aesthetic and utility, I planned my own water courses, my own deep devices for producing energy whilst serving and harmonising the earth. I had vast numbers of people in my businesses, I watched them grow and change, prosper and burn me, love me and loath me. I watch them procreate and progenate. I never owned them but some resented the smell of me in all they did and felt purchased. I did own animals, flocks, endangered species and pacified slaughtered species. A business and a responsibility, a joy and a burden.
Whilst amassing these things which multiplied my wealth and worth I began to grow in the frippery, the extension of wealth; a publishing house, a patron, a subsidiary record company, a doctorate for which I am still to work. I collected a following of gold-diggers and philanthropists of the beautiful and vivacious. My attraction obvious and yet subtle.
And I denied myself nothing that took my fancy.
I refused myself no pleasure.
I was lifted and enraptured by my actions, my work and my achievement.
This was the true reward of my labour, the joy.
Yet when I survey, when I see what made the smooth callouses on my hands,
The fruit of my stresses and strains.
It was all meaningless, I’m chasing the wind again;
What have I actually gained?
Again I return to wisdom, to practical truth, to what works.
I have done nothing for the first time, the paths I choose are always well trodden, even when I seek the road less travelled.
I know that wisdom is better than being foolish, just like the light is better than the dark.
The wise man is walking with eyes open, seeing the path, the choices and playing his part, the fool is wandering in the dark, taking his chances.
But both are equally likely to fall into a trap, a hole, a ditch and a depression. Neither is insulated against disaster, and who enjoys the journey better
So my seeking after being wise seemed stupid, If I will end up in the same grave being wise or foolish, what’s the point of being clever! What’s the point of knowing the futility of it all? No one is remembered, we cannot leave an indelible mark, we cannot defeat death.
So I hated my whole life and existence. All the work that had been my pride, my meaning my worth it burned my eyes, it was a painful reminder of the pointlessness of wisdom and the life of practical wisdom, of doing well. I grew to hate everything I had ever worked for, things, people, organisations. All were bitter pills and the scrapings of the barrel.
Why did I hate them? I had to hand them on. How do I know if my successors, born or chosen will follow in my footsteps will keep my legacy. It is impossible to know if another is wise or foolish, if they are good or bad. We can all hide our true intentions. The rich and prosperous trust no one. The lives of the rich and famous are filled with divorce, litigation and strife. It’s not new it has ever been thus.
So now I despair of the future and of the work that I have done, both past and present seem pointless and hard work for no good. I mean a person works, a banker, a captain of industry, they work long and hard, puts it all in, leaves it all on the pitch, it hurts and he sweats and yet at night there is no rest from worry or stress. It all might disappear tomorrow, someone might take it, he might make the mistake that means it’s all gone. It’s all meaningless, pointless.
There’s nothing worth doing than eating, drinking and be happy with the work we do. Being rich, having things, doing great things, there is no point. God’s made it that way, don’t worry be simple, be happy. We’re dependant upon a greater power, for without the natural things around us who could find joy or food.
The one who seeks God, who wants to be enlightened finds wisdom, knowledge and happiness, but the one who ignores God gathers and stores a mountain of money and things, he seeks to hold onto it, but ends up needing to give it to the man who seeks God to gain his wisdom, contentment and joy.
This all is pointless, like chasing the wind
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