If I am being authentic and honest with myself, and I inquire as to why. Why I want to get laid, why I want to have someone to share my life with, why I want a direction, a dream, a plan, or a purpose, why I feel I even need these things, and all I come back to is, “…so I can finally be happy…” but that happiness is already here, right now, in this present moment, in me, that happiness in fact, can only be found in me and has always been found in me, then I have a final question. WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT?!!
If this is all just a story, the story of me, the story of my life, why not close the book? If it is all an act, a play, why not let the curtains fall? If it’s all just a game why not simply quit playing? Why not just slice my wrists open right now and just give up. What is the point of living, of life? All that effort spent, that time spent. Doesn’t matter if nobody is really here to expend effort or spend time. Doesn’t matter if time does not exist. As far as this actor in this play is concerned, effort has been expended, time has been lost, has been spent.
As far as the actor is concerned, he has still been playing the role of a man, going on 39 years of age, who has never been on a real date, never enjoyed the physical pleasures of sex with a female, doesn’t have a fucking clue what to do with his life (only what he doesn’t want to do with it) and he has no clear dream, plan or purpose.
He can accept these things as most likely true. He can believe these things are true. That he does not exist, that it is all just an act, a game, a play, a story. But then what? Why continue on? As far as he is concerned, suffering has happened. Suffering is happening. He is hurt and in pain. He is alone and unfulfilled. He is lost and purposeless.
All of this assuming of course that there has to be a purpose. He had something clever to say here about purpose, but he forgot it when these words wanted to burst out of him, before he sat down at what he thinks of as his computer, that he put together with his own own hands, his mouse and keyboard, that his parents gave him as a present.
Now he sits here, tries to pick up the thread of whatever it was he was trying to express, to say. For this man, right now, in this present moment, he doesn’t know what to to, what else to say. He guesses that he just wants someone to give him a reason to continue, to keep going. Because he can not find one himself, now, in this present moment.
Is it possible to keep going, if these things are true? Is it possible to continue playing his role, long after he knows that it is just a role, as long as he remains aware it is just a role, just a part in a story, his story, of himself, in his world. Is it possible? Can he throw everything into this role, and enjoy playing it, while remaining aware that all it is is a part, a role? Be the best actor he can, and never forget the truth about who he really is? Can he enjoy life, be happy, knowing he does not truly exist, and he is just playing a role, pretending he exists?
Can he take control of the direction of his part? Change things? Make the role his character is playing better? More desirable? Give that character a clear dream, a clear purpose? if so maybe that would be reason enough to stay the knife blade. Maybe that would be reason enough to keep the book open, keep playing the game. If this character’s role can be improved, if all this characters efforts, hard work, and time invested could mean something, if only in this character’s story, if it could result in a clear dream or purpose, then maybe that is enough.
The Buddhists say something like, “After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” That seems to say that he can be enlightened, moving from simply accepting something as true to knowing something as true, that something being that this man, in the story of his life, does not exist. That happiness is right there, in who he truly is. This man can move from accepting this as truth to knowing this to be truth, yet life will still somehow continue. The actor will wake up and know he has been playing a part, so deeply, so thoroughly, he was not aware of it until the moment he woke up, or became enlightened.
And the game continues, the story continues, only the actor knows it is just a part, and the player knows it is just a game. And somewhere in this is a laugh waiting to happen. For the actor, in his story of his life, it is all so gloomy now, so hopeless. He is not sure he wants to keep playing this part, playing the game. But he has read the words of others who mention this laugh waiting when they wake up, and this gives him pause.
So for now, in this moment, he is staying the blade. For now, in this moment, he is opened, receptive, waiting. He is looking for someone, aware of themselves as an actor in a play, to, from that perspective, tell him that it will all be OK. That there is a reason to keep going. Because for now, in this present moment, he is lost in a forest, night has fallen, there are predatory noises all around, and he feels alone, like a little child, with the wolves circling, an he just wants to sit down, and give up.