Just a Little Something

It’s getting late, but I can’t shake the feeling that this day was wasted. I spent most of it struggling with what to do with my life, and sleeping, and eating unhealthily. But then I also played a weeklies round a local disc golf league and was the first one this year to make birdie on the hardest hole on the course, so I could remove it from my Birdie Badge and am just a few steps away from winning the whole thing. But still, I feel restless. Tired but restless. So I wanted to write something, just anything really. It seems that it is one of the few things that make me feel connected to reality, that I sometimes write something. Which is a bit weird, because what I write is mostly high and lofty and not at all down-to-earth. So it begs the question, what is reality? Or rather, what part of reality is more important, the trivial details of everyday life, or the feelings, ideas, visions, fantasies and existential questions that I spend my time focusing on? Most of the time none of it feels real. What feels real is competing, and throwing discs. It’s so silly. How can playing seem more real than almost anything else? I read Ecclesiastes again today, and the only thing the preacher seems to arrive at is that one should try to be happy and consider it a gift from God if it’s at all possible. That one should find joy in whatever is in front of one. Alright. So it seems okay to find joy in throwing plastic discs. The problem is that even though I do it every day, it’s not enough. I need something more to find joy in. I need something grand, I want to make something really awesome happen! I just don’t know what, and I don’t want to work too hard for it. But I think maybe I wouldn’t mind working hard if the vision just could become clear to me. But who knows.

Ok, does the day feel better now? A bit actually. I’ve been thinking about whether my writing could ever become a source of income. Passive income. I would just compile all my thoughts and ideas and complaints and rants and descriptions of my agony into a decently sized book, and then I would be discovered as a really smart and interesting fellow and then everyone would start throwing money my way without me having to do anything. And then I could be happy doing exactly what I do know but making more money.

I just read about Jim Carrey saying that he was shocked to discover that he could still be unhappy after having accomplished everything he had ever dreamed of. Very interesting. And I think we all somehow know it to be true, deep down inside. We know that whatever quest we are currently on and whatever struggle we blame for all of our restlessness on, it is really just a symbol. So we can tell ourselves that if only this or that knot would be untied, we would be free. If only this or that wish would be fulfilled, we would be happy. If only this or that pain would be relieved, we would be healed. We are good at telling ourselves these things, and we want so badly to believe them. But we know. We know that beyond the resolutions we claim to long so much for, there is nothing but darkness. We know that if all our wishes would come true today, we would be left without excuses and forced to face our true reality — which is most probably one of emptiness, loneliness and disorientation. And without Jesus, we would be truly hopeless.