(no subject)
I realised that the internal misery that seems to inhabit me these days is due to a simple internal processing error.
Somewhere along the line, I seem to have acquired the deeply engrained belief that my thoughts, actions, achievements, and failings are important; that these experiences are logged into some great book of history and that my persona will be weighed according to these successes and/or shortcomings. My internal processor has been stuck on all of the perceived failings that seem to characterise my Life at the moment, and none of the successes seem to measure up, and hence my spiraling down this vortex of depression.
Amazing, isn't it?
It's a bit like believing in some sort of being that sits atop us and loves/judges us simply because he created us. Or in other words, sheer madness.
I feel relieved now that I have told myself (out loud, in front of the mirror) that I do not matter at all, that none of my thoughts, actions, achievements, failings matter at all; that I will be forgotten soon enough; that I am inconsequential.
The feelings of misery, depression, and desire to end it all right now simply lifted, freeing me, opening my chest up, allowing me to relax deeply.
I have yearned for recognition my whole Life (except during the blissful months/years spent meditating and travelling on my own): recognition from others, but probably more specifically from my own self. Somewhere deep within me I have held on to the insane belief that if I was good enough (according to my own unrealistic standards) I would be considered as one of the relative few who have helped shape history.
The thing is, we all die.
Not just we, as individual beings, but we as communities, as societies, as civilisations, as a species, and eventually, we as a Planetary system of Life. One day, all of this will be engulfed and transformed into a lifeless bulk of rock somewhere in space and none of what you and I have ever done - and I mean nothing at all - will exist in any shape, form, or matter. We will not just be forgotten by those who care for us today, we will be as good as if we had never been born.
We do not matter at all.
I do not matter at all.
None of my beliefs, thoughts, actions matter at all.
I am inconsequential.
My existence is a temporary illusion that will soon enough be entirely forgotten.
What a relief.
Somewhere along the line, I seem to have acquired the deeply engrained belief that my thoughts, actions, achievements, and failings are important; that these experiences are logged into some great book of history and that my persona will be weighed according to these successes and/or shortcomings. My internal processor has been stuck on all of the perceived failings that seem to characterise my Life at the moment, and none of the successes seem to measure up, and hence my spiraling down this vortex of depression.
Amazing, isn't it?
It's a bit like believing in some sort of being that sits atop us and loves/judges us simply because he created us. Or in other words, sheer madness.
I feel relieved now that I have told myself (out loud, in front of the mirror) that I do not matter at all, that none of my thoughts, actions, achievements, failings matter at all; that I will be forgotten soon enough; that I am inconsequential.
The feelings of misery, depression, and desire to end it all right now simply lifted, freeing me, opening my chest up, allowing me to relax deeply.
I have yearned for recognition my whole Life (except during the blissful months/years spent meditating and travelling on my own): recognition from others, but probably more specifically from my own self. Somewhere deep within me I have held on to the insane belief that if I was good enough (according to my own unrealistic standards) I would be considered as one of the relative few who have helped shape history.
The thing is, we all die.
Not just we, as individual beings, but we as communities, as societies, as civilisations, as a species, and eventually, we as a Planetary system of Life. One day, all of this will be engulfed and transformed into a lifeless bulk of rock somewhere in space and none of what you and I have ever done - and I mean nothing at all - will exist in any shape, form, or matter. We will not just be forgotten by those who care for us today, we will be as good as if we had never been born.
We do not matter at all.
I do not matter at all.
None of my beliefs, thoughts, actions matter at all.
I am inconsequential.
My existence is a temporary illusion that will soon enough be entirely forgotten.
What a relief.