1/28/2009
I begin this in the middle.
In the middle of life.
In the middle of death.
In the middle of something.
Or is it nothing?
For aren't we all existing perpetually in the middle?
Running simultaneously away from one thing and towards another, yet never quite reaching our destination?
Don't we stop merely to realize that we have arrived at the same place we started?
For several years I have been fighting a war within myself. Trying to decide on a writing idea, I begin with a few lines or pages which flow in bits and spurts, but the words and ideas are progressively engulfed by the demonic vulture of self-doubt. That parasitic voice lurking at the doorstep of consciousness, waiting for those fleeting moments of weakness imposed from outside or within, leaving our intuitive sense of truth vulnerable to the barbarian of irrationality.
I write these reflections as a soldier. An individual battling the impetus of reality. A warrior fighting against the inevitable decay which engulfs all things - individually and collectively - as we progress inevitably through this illusory holographic existence. I write as an everyday prophet, imbued with the tragic realization that these words and thoughts will ultimately disintegrate as I myself succumb to the nihilism of all things.
So, why even bother?
What driving force motivates us to rebel against the perennial tragedy of existence?
What purpose does the pleasure of momentary fulfillment play in this reality destined for nothingness?
It seems to depend on the definition of "nothingness".
For what ultimately becomes of the rebellious? Not the same result as those who cling to the security of conformity and order. And if the fate of eternity is nothingness, then couldn't the pleasure of "now" at least be considered the best - or only - alternative?
And what exactly is this thing called a "moment" if the universe is in a perpetual process of change? Is the "moment" not simply an illusion that we impose on reality with the purpose of creating a sense of security of being and knowing in a world inherently non-momentary?
And so, back to the beginning.
Or is it the end?
To live in the moment.
Free from the bondage of present and past.
Yet still existing in both.
I put these words down in order to impose order on the world, yet at the same time to transcend it.
Life in a series of moments,
interconnected in a matrix of cause and effect.
Moving in a cycle with no beginning or end.
In which lies the endless process of becoming.
