Writing With a Broken Pencil, Part 1

I stumbled across an important truth today that I feel might be worthy of sharing. “Truth” might be an incorrect word, as nothing seems absolute in this reality, and “stumbled” might be inaccurate as well — I more or less smacked square into this one, like a dumbass walking into a telephone pole while staring into a smartphone.

Are you ready for my big-brain insight of the day?

It’s this:

Life is utterly fucking pointless.

Although that may seem like a negative sentiment, it’s actually the key to happiness, joy, and freedom.

So how do I explain this properly?

The only reason for doing anything is because you truly want to do it. If you’re acting out of guilt, insecurity, or some other ignoble motivation, you’re kinda fucked. Those roads will always land you in a hell-state, long before you clue in your toes are on fire.

You have no higher purpose, no soul-calling, no karma, and no obligation to be anything other than whatever tickles your fancy in the present moment. There’s no fate, no destiny, no gameplan devised by God. Every future consideration you have about achieving your “life-calling” will end up diminishing the most important time you’ll ever have in the world…

Right here, right now.

When we stop thinking about future goals, past grievances, or any other stress factor under the sun, we suddenly realize we’re at peace. And it doesn’t matter what situation you’re in — living as a millionaire with hookers by your side, or sinking into a murky pit of quicksand. When you shut down projected thought, peace ensues.

Sure, no one wants to sink in quicksand, but it’s the fear of dying in the murky mess that makes the situation unwanted — pretty much like every other scenario in life. Whether you’ve formulated a grand design for peace and harmony down the road, or you stress out over upcoming bills, it matters not. Contriving a future that doesn’t exist is a glorious waste of fucking time.

The ride we call life is much shorter than we perceive it to be. And it can end in a heartbeat, literally, without warning. We have to take what little time we have and live it to the fullest — appreciate all the little things that make sucking in oxygen worthwhile… appreciate our friends, family, and every single weirdo that crosses our paths… appreciate every sound, smell, taste and texture… appreciate every strange nuance that, for whatever reason, humanity has labelled an “annoyance.”

There will always be mornings when opening your eyes, or getting out of bed, seems like a futile task. On those days, we might say to ourselves, “Why fucking bother? There’s nothing I’m going to accomplish that’s going to make a lick of difference in this twisted reality. I have no reason to play this game anymore.”

And you’re exactly right.

Even if you complete your mission to abolish war, homelessness, and poverty — making your name a household item that generations will remember for centuries to come — you’re bodysuit is still gonna crumble and die in a hundred years or less, and you’ll be nothing more than another footnote in the pages of humanity. One more memory that time will slowly forget.

So fuck analyzing the motivations or reasoning behind any of your actions. Greet each day as if it were your last. If you knew you were gonna die in 12 hours, how would you spend the afternoon? The answers you provide will give some insight into what truly makes you happy. You might even realize that the piddliest, dumbest of things that you want to do or try one last time, will bring more “purpose” to your life than saving the fucking world.

Go do those first, and giveth not a fuck about RRSP’s, the stolen bologna sandwich at work, or the new alternator your shitbox car is in desperate need of. Go live for once. I mean really fucking live! 20 grand in the bank doesn’t mean jackshit when a massive brain aneurysm prevents you from spending a single cent of it.

The sun is out. I’m going fishing. Then running. Then sailing. Then I might go smoke some crack. If anyone knows where I can procure some, lemme know. If I don’t do the crack thing, then maybe I’ll just wander the beach for a few hours, and be grateful for my last day on Earth, which it may very well be.

Cooking up a daily soup of activity is utterly pointless unless we learn once again to savour each and every sip of our brew. Don’t cook the stew because you want leftovers to feed you tomorrow, do it because you want to relish its taste today.

At some point, you’re gonna be taking one last bite of life. Every action you engage in has the potential of being that last nibble, so start learning to enjoy each of them with the full awareness of an intentional being, lost in the wonder of the moment.

And maybe when you’re done eating, we’ll go smoke some crack.

My dealer just texted…