entry 19!
Lately, I’ve found myself waking up feeling confined, as if I’m living in a small box. Every day, the walls close in, limiting my thoughts and feelings. But occasionally, a profound sentence or a meaningful word breaks through, offering a glimpse of a larger perspective. In those moments, the box expands, and everything starts to make sense. It’s a fleeting clarity, but it’s enough to make me realize how constricted my usual state is—and how much I fear it. When I’m able to see the bigger picture, everything feels better. It’s as if the weight of existence lifts, and life takes on a different hue. This quest for understanding, this search for the meaning of life, is something humans have grappled with since Buddha first posed the question. His answers became the foundation of a religion, offering a sense of purpose and direction. Yet, my journey has taken a different path.
I’ve followed various philosophies and self-help teachings, from ancient Egyptian beliefs to modern-day self-improvement books. Each one promises answers, but none have fully satisfied me. They offer fragments of truth, but there’s always something missing. This constant search, this endless testing of beliefs, has left me feeling unfulfilled. Now, only blank pages seem to attract me—an empty space where I can flow with time, unbound by predefined meanings. Despite my efforts, nothing has hit the mark. I look around and see the world enjoying its existence, a phenomenon I wish to partake in but can’t. This existential frustration has been growing, especially here in Tokyo, where my solitude magnifies it. The city's energy contrasts sharply with my internal turmoil, making my sense of isolation even more profound.
Last night, during a moment of introspection, a profound thought occurred to me. I questioned my existence, zooming out from my immediate surroundings. I am a body sitting on a bed, in a rented room, in Tokyo, Japan, on Earth. Further zooming out, I envisioned myself floating on a space rock that has been drifting through the vastness of space for eons and will continue to do so. This realization was both humbling and liberating. It hit me that life, in the grand scheme of things, means nothing. We are just specks on a space rock, drifting aimlessly through the cosmos.
This might sound bleak, but it was a moment of clarity for me. If life truly has no inherent meaning, then the pressure to find one dissipates. We are free to create our own meaning, to live authentically without the burden of a predetermined purpose. In this vast, indifferent universe, we can find freedom in the absurdity of it all.
So, here I am, floating on this space rock, letting go of the need to find a grand meaning. Instead, I’m embracing the journey, the process of being, and the fleeting moments of clarity that break through the mundane. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough. So, Peace Man!!✌🏻