I was in an argument with a guy once, well not an argument so much as a hearty spiritual debate, and he said: “The whole point of existence is….yadda yadda yadda.” I can’t actually remember what he said, but I remember what I said: “I don’t think that’s right, I think the whole point of existence is to wake up to the fact you don’t really exist.”
The moment that came out of my mouth, a light went on in my head. Oh, my God! I don’t actually exist! And the realizing of that was hilarious! So much so that I had to sit down on the curb and laugh for 10 minutes straight – much to the discomfort of the poor fellow standing beside me, I’m sure. In that moment everything shifted, it was impossible to take anything seriously when none of it was real.
I carried that feeling and that realization with me that whole summer, and in those times when I was feeling angsty or despondent, I’d suddenly remember: oh yeah, none of this is real! And POOF! The troubles were gone and I could laugh at myself again. Very liberating notion: can’t take anything personally when you don’t exist, how can anything be a problem?
Well, as most big realizations go, they get lost a bit as you get busy with the daily grind – come to think of it, that realization came shortly after my last 100 days of meditation, so maybe the realization gets lost when you stop connecting to it daily. Some of it I still carried with me: a larger sense of perspective, a greater ability to see the humour in things, but I’d lost touch with the powerful essence of that over that last few years.
Woke up this morning melancholy. It’s typical, after a big breakthrough and an uprising of joy, to get plunked right back in the muck, taking that momentum into working on the next thing (and there’s always a next thing, layers and levels…). My soul won’t let me rest on my laurels much these days. So it’s back in the trenches for me this morning; a few pieces have clicked for me and I’m set to pondering what that’s about and how it fits with the rest, aware of the ways I’m still stuck and how they’re related.
So, as I’m thinking about all of this, some part of me goes: Pfffft! Whatever! And it’s funny, watching me try and puzzle all this out. Like I have a hope of thinking my way out of this one, as if any of it mattered…or maybe not mattered, but made a difference. Hard to describe, but again, just can’t take any of it seriously, ’cause none of it is real, at least not in the sense I think it’s real.
So I go into my meditation with the presence of that melancholy and stewing mental process as I work on what’s bubbling up, along with a joyous set of giggles just having so much FUN in whatever journey I’m on.
I think I’ve hit some kind of critical mass (if you can have any kind of mass with something ethereal). I no longer have to work, be mindful to get myself into a meditation. When I sit, even with my mind churning, the moment I remember: oh yeah, meditating…. something deep within grabs a hold and drags me in with utter joy. Like playing in a giant mud puddle and dragging your best friend in to join the fun. Messy, flailing, laughing.
And how can you take anything seriously with that pulling at you?