Life Is The Greatest Absurdity

 

We attempt to make meaning out of it.

We attempt to shape it into significance.

We attempt to adorn it with ideals.

We attempt to look into it and find ourselves.

We are all such fools. Yet we think we are wonderfully intelligent. We marvel at our cleverness. We believe we understand life.

We do not.

Life has never had any meaning. The meaning that one finds in life is the meaning he ascribes to it.

Life is simply a joke. An absurdity. A non-linear, haphazard, and unpredictable trail that is fertile for the imagination of hallucinatory human beings.

Life is a Rorschach. You can see in it whatever you wish.

It is a mirage. It is always tempting to see some glimmering landscape on the horizon.

If you deconstruct life. If you break apart all of the pieces and look at it, bit by bit, you realize that it is not what you thought it was. Instead of pages of prophecy and significance and biography, you find the intelligible gibberish of an infant tapping on the keys of a typewriter.

You’ve been chasing a ghost, my friend. When things were going well, life had no intention of treating you right. And when things were sour it had no intention of treating you ill. The events that surround us just surround us.

There is no grand plan. And there never was one.

There is just an open field upon which to play.

By all means, build your house. But understand that it will be a house of cards.

By all means, make your mark. But understand that someone will one day erase it.

By all means, change the world. But understand that after you die, it will change back.

I am not a pessimist. Nor am I an optimist. I do not subscribe to either.

I am a seeker. My way is the way of truth. In any form in which I can find it. I will tell you firmly that that which I know pales in comparison to that which I do not.

But this much I know: Life is not what you think it is.

What is life?

Life is the leaf that falls and tumbles onto a bed of leaves.

Life is the dog that barks in the distance.

Life is a breeze which blows through your hair.

Life is the very thing that you ignore every day.

Life is the most insignificant event of the hour.

Life is not a series of events. Rather it is the substrate in which the events take place.

We have a habit of looking at life in a certain way. We have a habit of looking at it in a good or bad light depending upon the nature of the events that we experience. But events do not color life any more than smoke colors the sky.

Perhaps the greatest realization that we can have is that we are free to do whatever we wish. But in order to remain in this freedom, we must discard the notion of significance.

My friend, there was a day that you were not here. And there will soon be a day when you are no longer here. And once you realize this, you will understand that all there is left to do is play.

Play with your work. Play with your kids. Play with your wife. Play with your surroundings. Play with your happiness. Play with your sorrows. Play with all of those things that you consider to be your miseries and misfortunes.

There is no linear path. There is no destination on the horizon. If you wish to create one, play with that as well.

If you attempt to Make A Life, you will miss it.

If you attempt to Create Significance, you will lose your freedom.

And if you lose your freedom, what life is there left to live?