You ask yourself: “What is life about anyway?”
Even though you have a lot of answers, you still wonder and want to know and to make sense of it all. You know life is about love. You understand that it is illusion, yet you have only an inkling of what illusion means, for life really seems real to you, all too real.
The best you can make of it is that life is about nothing at all, just a dream-state that you get lost in. It’s just a rest stop in time and space on a far greater journey. It is only for a few moments, and this is a very important few moments. In fact, it is all-important while it is on screen. It becomes the only game in town until you learn otherwise. It’s a show, all right, and yet it is the theatre of the absurd, an all-important drama of nothing at all. Could it be that everyone is an emperor with no clothes?
Or life is a movie short, fanciful, and yet taken very seriously by everyone on the stage and in the audience. Everyone is gripped by it and wants to know what happens next. This is the attraction of the theatre of life. What happens next? This is so enticing. Even if it doesn’t matter, you’ve got to know, for, certainly, this is a drama of your life, and you are the star of it, and your life is a revelation unto itself.
“What is life about, and Who am I?” are two questions you ask yourself a lot. “What am I doing here?” you ask. “How did I get here?” is on the tip of your tongue. “And why?” You get some answers, yet not much, not much that you can really put your finger on.
You are here for something, and yet that is part of the illusion. You know you will not be on Earth forever, nor do you always particularly want to be. And yet you don’t want to leave either. You want one more day, one more turn of the page in the book of blank pages to read. That life is a mystery is part of the attraction. You always did like mysteries. Unsolved ones are always the best-seeming. And so We leave life as it is. We let it be what it is, and you venture forth daily.
What do the birds and other animals make of life? They do not seem to question. They don’t ask themselves: “Who am I, or what am I, and what am I doing here?” They are just here, doing what they do. They don’t ask: “What is love? Do I get enough?” They just give love. They do not ask: “What about tomorrow? What will I eat?” They do not worry about anything, for they will cross that bridge when they come to it. How smart are My animals. How delightful. They are spontaneous, while you are busy trying to teach yourself to be spontaneous. Yet spontaneity does not come with a manual. That’s just it. It comes with nothing at all. Animals carry no luggage. If you carried no luggage, your arms would be free of hindrance, and you would know spontaneity. You would no longer think about it, and you would be spontaneous.
The Human world is a world of thought, and now you are working on how to get out of the world of thought in order to be spontaneous and a few other things closer to your heart.