Smart-ass.

I’m Life writing this.

(And, no, this is not me trying to be smart: it’s actually true.)

I get to be Marnix.

When you’re lucky enough to play the apparent role of an awakening person, many interesting things can happen.

One of those is being firmly addicted for a couple of decades, living somewhere between guilt, exhaustion, and hangovers.

Another one is massive anxiety, for no good reason, always expanding, always making your world smaller and smaller.

Or what about being extremely depressed much of the time, wearing the label like a sad, dubious badge of honor.

There’s a couple of careers, too, creative and fairly successful ones.

There’s also being on your own almost always, living in solitude like a socially capable hermit, looking at the world from the sideline and never REALLY getting that human thing.

There’s wanting to die, or at least THINKING about it (which is not the same), and eventually wanting to live, just a bit more.

There’s a recognition of sorts, multiple recognitions even, where an experience of Oneness is followed up by many other moments of unfathomable clarity, and losing those again.

And then there’s the non-stop, obsessive reflecting on life itself, on circumstances, the nature of circumstances, or the nature of the nature.

It’s a big job for a small person.

But there also ISN’T a person.

Yeah.

So.

I’m really confused right now, or: there’s a lot of confusion happening.

Not in a scary or destructive or threatening way, but it feels like a hundred things are going on at the same time, on different levels.

I’m aware of stuff but I don’t really know the stuff.

Spiritual multitasking.

It's like that most of the time.

As a general rule there's a constant movement towards trying to understand Life, this life, as life, and while it's clear that that’s utterly impossible, it’s part of the character to keep on exploring.

I’m always too late, not clockwise, but ‘getting it’ wise.

Knowing that whatever the ‘me’ is looking for or hoping to get and claim and obtain, doesn’t exist.

It’s not a thing, something to possess, to hold on to, to call my own.

Life is never not simply what’s going on.

But it still doesn’t stop.

Trying to be happy or mindful or awakened all the time can feel like a curse, even though it’s mostly a first world problem (let’s be honest).

Trying to grasp the ungraspable, to somehow find the manual for life, is another one of those weird and divinely unfulfilling and ultimately useless inclinations.

It’s also tremendously fascinating and rewarding.

Like endlessly playing with your own tail, when your tail is the universe.

And you are too.

I have the heart of a poet, and the sensitivity of an angel.

Well, not me, not really me.

Life, as Marnix.

Not getting it.

?

But still writing this.

?

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(Photo by @alvannee, for Unsplash)