First Meditation from Last Meditation

For what I can remember, every night, throughout my entire life has gone through, for the most part, the same process.  The process is, generally speaking, quite anxiety provoking and it’s something that I prefer to avoid.  I have gathered from this, that this is the reason for my proclivity towards staying up late- being a night owl.

Every night, upon deciding to go to bed, I lay in bed and meditate, sometimes inadvertently and sometimes intently.  I mediate on the idea of sleep.  On the idea that at some random point in my life I may fall asleep, and never awaken.  The idea that all my life can be summed up into a single moment of rest- lights on, then lights off.  Nothing complicated.  I think about what all this means and what is the point.

I start to imagine that each day I live is a symbol of life- awaken and becoming, followed by a slow start (coffee usually negates this slowness).  Then I peak around midday and then begin a slow decay of energy into the evening, where I eventually resist sleep as long as possible.  A single day is a symbol for my existence and my existence is a symbol for humanity and so on and so forth.  For every day that dies, one day closer to death, but it is rather absurd to assume I can trick time or death by staying up late to watch X-files reruns, yet again.

Everyday is filled with people moving around with such intent I am not sure why anybody does anything at all.  We awake, as we are tired of sleeping and then later we sleep as we are tired of being awake.  Life is just daily cycles of monotony and for what?  To collect red homes and green hotels?  To fill a wall with framed accolades and a virtual collection of virtual friends?  To fly around the world and sample cultures that differ from mine, but only in practicality.  On issues of any importance, we are all the same.  Just animals who can communicate.  Our beastly urges do not differ from any other animal- we are not better, by any stretch of the imagination.

We have invented Gods and myths to rationalize a moral identity and this morality has changed and evolved overtime- we have evolved, a priori (maybe).  But self-proclaimed moral positions in our cerebral optimistic-self do not define our moral identity.  We are not morally righteous, just because we say so.  We are just animals that rationalize their significance by pretending it matters, pretending there is a bigger reason.  Pretending that there is some plan-  a plan for my family, or my job, or my career, or my life, or my country, or my existence.   When most of the time we fail at these plans and then turn around and blame the conflict between the plans as the root cause of the failure of all the plans.  Never once accepting that maybe the notion of plans was faulty to start.  Maybe we should just disregard death and stop trying to explain our existence.  Maybe we should live each day, as a unique life upon itself.  Make sure each day is filled with all things you wish your life included-  connection, adventure, knowledge and, most importantly, love.

Our colossal western society promotes and pushes the individual with the gusto of a heroin dealer and we believe that is important, we believe our own liberties trump everything else.  We believe personal freedom is a highly coveted virtue that all modern societies should work towards.  We help spread democracy and promote this system, this system of individual liberties.  Are we not a society?  Are we not an United Nation?  Out of many, one.  Why cant we create social virtues and promote the social good.  Promote the union in of itself.  But alas, it does not matter.  Every day I am born and every day I die.  I am just a defiant little cog in a machine that will continue on, continuing on.  I lay in bed and ponder the meaning of everything and nothing.   Maybe I should just dream of pancakes instead- as I am certain happiness would ensue.

Goodnight.

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