Nothingness

I am nothing.

I know nothing.

I am, we are.

I don’t pretend to know everything, or even anything. I can only know what I perceive and assume that which I’m unable to perceive is true. As Dr. Neruda says “The truth is self-expression of your infinite self in the human form upon Earth.”

There’s just my perception of it. My perception of everything means nothing because I am nothing.

I’m quite happy with being nothing – it takes the pressure off trying to be something.

Nothingness makes me think of the film Hook when Toodles says to Peter “Lost, lost, lost…I’ve lost my marbles.” To me that’s what living in nothingness is similar to. My tiny human mind is losing its marbles trying to rationalise nothingness, whereas my higher self is laughing.

It’s as though someone’s pressed the random button on my thoughts and presented my brain with incomprehensible ideologies. My brain – or rather, my ego – doesn’t like this one bit. It’s saying “Hey! Remember me?” Of course I remember you ego, but I’m starting to remember my higher self too and I like that version of myself more.

Now I know why Buddha was laughing. He was laughing because he remembered himself.

In the silence and emptiness of nothingness, Buddha found himself and he laughed at the joy of it. That’s kinda what I see in my head.

I’m not crazy, although sometimes I feel it. I’m nothing. I’m finding my laughter, my joy, my voice in the emptiness. It’s the emptiness that makes a space useful and gives it meaning – or at least a perceived meaning.

I write a bit more on nothingness in my post The World As I See It.

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All the above I wrote last night/in the early morning in what I like to call the quiet magical hours of the day; the best hours of the day. Today is a new day and I don’t feel like laughing.

But at least I know I’m capable of it!

That’s how I feel when I spend my time doing what I love: reading and writing. I feel peaceful and as if the whole world slows down and yet somehow time seems to pass quickly.

How I feel now is how my job affects me. I feel powerless, squashed, trapped. I know, I know. I create my reality, I make life what it is, but I feel like it’s incredibly hard to feel that same kind of joy in my work as I do when I’m writing. And it’s frustrating that I’m allowing that fear to hold me back. It makes me want to cry if I’m honest, and I never cry.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about leaving my job and moving to London or New York, but financial constraints stop me. Or at least that’s the excuse my ego is using. I’m sure if it wasn’t that excuse it would be some other excuse.

The truth is I don’t know how to get to where I want to be and I’m having more moments of powerlessness than limitlessness.

I know I’m my own creator and my own jailor, but I seem to have created some kind of mental block.

I think the block is insecurity.

I keep finding excuses not to apply for jobs I want. E.g.: I’m not qualified, I’m not good enough, I’m not original, I’m not worthy of such good fortune.

I believe everyone is deserving of achieving their dreams so why can’t I extend that belief for myself?

What makes me undeserving and everyone else deserving?

I keep having days like these. It’s a sure sign that I need to change my life.

Take a leap of faith.

Dive into the unknown.

One of the students I live with asked me “What have you got to lose?”

Really though, what have I got to lose?

Be happy. Be you.

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