Yesterday was a terrible day, a day of failures and wasted time and I was tired in a way I haven’t been in a long time, tired as an expression of dismay, of resignation, at the things life throws at me. This, I thought, is suffering and I had to laugh at myself because it was not suffering at all, or if it was it was a kind of self-inflicted suffering which comes from false hope and expectation and disappointment rather than the kind that comes through actual loss or grief, or a catastrophic injury or starvation or war or all those other terrible things going on out there in the world outside my comfortable bubble. But yes we had driven all day to no purpose, and yes we had expended considerable time getting nowhere and doing nothing and time, that precious, nebulous substance ran through our fingers like air and no matter how we grasped at it we couldn’t capture it. And the meaninglessness of it all seemed overwhelming, like one of those days of relentless rain that seems to flow and flow without end, and my tiredness made everything insubstantial like a beautiful landscape glimpsed through opaque glass so full of promise but so broken-up that I could only imagine it and dream.
Yet it is always meaningless, all this activity, all this filling of time with endless nothings that are lost the instant we go to sleep or turn our attention to something else, something absorbing. Not to mention death, through which everything we are is lost entirely and only the echoes of what we’ve left behind remain. And what will I leave behind? Not that wasted day, not all those hours spent in cars pursuing dreams, but rather a handful of people I’ve connected with, the people who have shared this meaningless car journey with me. They are all that matters, so why do I expend any effort on anything else? All my stuff is meaningless, the words I read are meaningless (except in so far as they make me connect more meaningfully with those around me), all my anger and dismay is meaningless, all the disappointments in the world count for nothing. I should let it all go. What use is all of this stuff, all of this activity, if it does not make me happy, if it makes me churlish and grumpy and a little bit pathetic?