I’ve been feeling miserable all day…
In trying to figure out the correct way to interpret life, I remember once again that whatever I interpret is just an interpretation with no value other than what it is. I decide to not think, since my thoughts are worthless, and just listen. While trying to not interpret, my desires of ascension wriggle back into my sight, making me feel miserable and incomplete again: I hear, I see, I feel, but what am I missing? Is there not more? Shouldn’t I worry about seeing more reality? Then I realize that these desires are interpretations, as worthless as opinions. Any goal I fantasize is a worthless interpretation… wow, I am addicted to fantasy.
Even if my desire is to “save the world” from this illusion, me thinking that there is an illusion means that I am delusional, and not suited for the job. If I really have this “job” to do, the best way to carry it out is to help myself out of it. You can’t create peace by fighting for it, you be peaceful about it; fighting will not only take your peace, but it will also just strengthen war.
I am addicted to fantasy.
Because I keep dreaming of a better world, where I can have a clearer mind, and not be pulled down by desires but have an understanding beyond them. This is my desire; this is the illusion I am after. This perspective of imperfection is, yet again, another interpretation, just an opinion.
I am addicted to fantasy.
How pathetic I am for not being the best I can. Because there is more that I can do for the world, for myself, and for God… for my friends, for those I love and care about, for the strangers I can relate to. Pushes and pulls, pushes and pulls is all it is. Your mind coming up with stories, more and more dramatic and complicated each time, that may or may not be common between the dreamer and the one being dreamed of. Nevertheless, they are worthless; and if you cannot justify your inaction by saying that other’s interpretations do not matter, because you can let it yourself live with dissatisfaction, but not others; learn this: that the fantasy you have of satisfying every question that your mind conjures that it is conjured by other else, is a worthless interpretation; and you can’t deny that.
But whether it is painful or pleasurable, they are always illusions: feel free to indulge in them, but never be driven by them.
…
I got up to go to the bathroom, I felt dizzy and fell softly. It felt nice and I heard weird (possibly imaginary noises). My foot itched; “should I scratched? Should I not?” my mind battled for a second. Then I realized, I do not have to listen to the battle, I could just watch without being part of it; I could be annoyed without fighting in it. I could hear my pushes and pulls without listening to what they say. I could listen to them without falling under them. I could let my body obey the brain’s commands without me being controlled by it; I could let my mind be tormented by thoughts of hell without me worrying about it. I feel freer, lighter, easier. I can go all night without sleep, due to troubles on my mind, and not look for anything better, without seeking peace. What I am is what there is, life is great (but this is just an interpretation).
Hear your thoughts, without listening to them; listen to your thoughts, without heeding them; heed your thoughts, without obedience; obey your thoughts, without necessity; follow what’s inevitable, without being enslaved by it; be a slave, but let it not be a penalty; be penalized, but not punished; be punished, but not hurt; get hurt, but heal promptly; undergo permanent damage, but do not die because of it; die, but be free. And, most importantly: be free, but do not be enslaved by it.
The more heaven it sees, the more hell the unclean spirit will suffer.
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