Thoughts at ten, thirty six.

René Guenón (1973) “Insights into Islamic Esoterism and Taoism”

I am re-reading this and all I think is:

“Oh God! I must be in a really bad place because as aware as I am of spiritual poverty, I don't seem to be able to be conscious about it and detach from manifested things. I must not be doing the job! Oh Saturn, how hard will you hit me?”

I am lost again. I am back to stage one, and as if I never moved forward, because I run in circles, I keep on moving back where I started. I am not a teenager anymore, not supposed to be so distracted by existential questions while being too busy dealing with life, but here I am! Because my brain refuses to leave me alone.

I see myself going down that hole that takes me nowhere but to my own disaster. I can always go there for sure, but for the sake of what? It is a comfort zone certainly, but to what price do I stay there? I am turning twenty-nine years old this year and my reality is asking over and over again to be the adult I am expected to be by now. Then why am I still this crying baby complaining about the meaning of life? As if complaining about the meaning, or lack-of-meaning, would change anything. 

If I have to be honest with you all, I just want to sit down and cry, and cry, and cry until I am done crying; but, I have done so way too many times, and by now I fully comprehend that it won’t make a difference. I would just release, and then regain the strength to keep on going but... right now I need a little bit more than that.

Did I let darkness cover me? Was I ever in the light? I mean, it is truly hard to know and I feel I have no time to waste in trying to find that out, but hey! Here I am writing my thoughts about the matter, wasting time, of course.

I am tired. I guess we can summarize all my babbling to that. Or maybe I am minimizing my feelings and rationalizing everything, reducing it to nothing, when in reality, I am falling apart as usual. The good news, for those much younger than me reading this, is that it has gotten better throughout the years. As bad as it is, it is not as bad as it was when I was fifteen, or even twenty. It is much better... well, better is a big word. I’d be humble and say that it gets bearable, what about that? It gets, somehow, bearable, because you understand and take your decisions upon what you moderately know instead of the absolute unknown. Not that the unknown will become known, but it will have the decency to clarify some matters that at an earlier age refuses to share.