Today, while cleaning up some old accounts, I found an old piece of writing I had written many years ago. This was written back when I was following along the right-hand-path. I haven’t shared it with anyone, till now.
What follows below is not well written, and it is steeped in right-hand-path mechanics. However it has value in the pain of it all. There’s a certain void being felt in that pain back then. I feel the void now, but its’ different.
Along the left-hand-path the pain, the void isn’t without merit. It isn’t aimless winging… it has a purpose, if used properly.
nothing done matters hereOld Journal entry from many years ago
These words embody the meaning of life in general.
Take opinions as an example. We all have them. The global social media landscape allows us to voice them on soap boxes, as though each of us is an expert in a field of study.
Yet these opinions are meaningless. So why argue?
Where is the meaning of life?
Is it in the family?
What about the skillset?
Or are these mere distractions, to keep us from identifying with the underlying emptiness of it all?
Oh how i talk to myself, speaking my grievances
There is no answer.
Only the voice I know all too well
my own ego barking like a dog in the marketplace.
I grow weary of it all
So tired of the constant journey.
Crowely said “Is there not joy ineffable in this aimless winging?”
I find no joy in the constant path that never reaches an end.
Tired, so tired.
Worn and weary.
I used to know God. I used to feel God in the presence of all living things.
Now I stumble into the acheing abyss of nothing.
I cry aloud for God or for friends and family who passed on.
There is no response.
where is my friend who took her life?
Where is my family who passed from diseases, long ago?
why am I like this, seeking joy in something that has none to offer?
I write down my words… no one cares
I pen a drawing… no one cares
I write code… no one cares
I make music…. no one cares
Not even me.
The jest of it all – not even me!
So why bother with this aimless winging?
Why wonder the world seeking to be good at something that in the end, even I will feel it matters not?
Desire, sex, love, passion, art, work, where does it all lead, but to the infinite abyss?
I grow so weary and tired of it all.
I am no expert. No protege. I am not one who has the attention of the mighty or the respect of the weak. I am merely a ghost of a ghost. An echo of an echo of an echo.
So what can I be?
Everything… and nothing.
But why be anything? After all everything dissolves into the acid bath of life. At some point, we all mix with the rest and loose everything.
Perhaps that’s God. Perhaps God is the acid bath, releasing us of our identities, passions, desires and interests. Or perhaps it’s death. Maybe by one name, it’s all the same.
Where am I going with this? Nowhere, and everywhere. It is the expression of the futility of it all. The warning of the dreaded desire. That insipid idea that something will finally make us happy. The house, the car, the job, the wife, the husband, the parent, the child, the death… even death becomes a desire.
Once I asked myself, “what would you like for your birthday?” To this question I posed the thought, “an easy death.” A death of no fear, or pain. A death that causes little disturbance in the lives of others. One in which they can go on with their lives and find the meaning that is hidden from my eyes… and the joy that is escapes my heart.
So then, is there joy and meaning?
Maybe I’m right in what I wrote. Perhaps I just can’t see or feel it, but it is there… perhaps i’m missing the obvious that resonates in my very space.
I keep coming back to the spirits. God. People who passed. Angels. Where are they? Why have I lost the connection? Is my mind too scattered? am I too far into myself?
But then I ask and wonder, ‘why is it important to seek validation from spirits?’ “Because,” I tell myself, “they are a proof of something beyond this. if there is something beyond, then from a greater scope I can judge my life and see it has some purpose otherwise not known.”
When I read the entry above, I can see some failings in my reasoning. I was expecting people to value me based on my output. If I was a good coder, a good musician, a good artist. It is nice to get acclaim, but this is a foolish journey to pin one’s identity and hope on these elements. They are so fleeting.
I think I was close to something real. I was feeling the abandonment of “god.” What I thought was “god,” I now believe was my tuning into an extension of Self. It is so vast, that our “self” can often appear as something external. So close was I, but I fell back into the bandaid of false light.
The emptiness is here with me, but it is part of the path. The isolation is not something to run from, but to embrace as the path itself. This is the difference between who I am today, and who I was then.