The Desolation Of I

February 21, 2014

The Desolation Of II stood on a drizzly night at a corner waiting to cross the boulevard contemplating the freedom and power of being alone, acting alone, choosing to be alone. Not truly alone without other people, but alone in the sense of following no one, moving ahead with conviction, and choosing not to be weighed down and held back by those who will not propel you further and faster through this world with your inner purpose at the helm, those that latch on to you to catapult them forward at the cost of taking away some of your inertia that ultimately needs no hangers on. While having these thoughts, I saw a multitude of doors left graciously open by me inviting others to come and join in on the ride, because if they could put in as much effort as I do (my common flawed assumption), the sum would be greater than all of its parts and quite remarkable to behold.
I felt the draft of all of those doors left open for so long that it seemed nobody was minding them as dozens of seasons passed with unswept piles of autumn leaves building up around the untended thresholds, damp with a staleness of disrespect. Doors began to slam shut, locked with a key, as I spoke the phrase, “The Desolation of I”.
Desolation has many meanings. One definition is a state of complete emptiness or destruction. I prefer this one over extreme sadness caused by loss or loneliness. Some people are incapable of sadness from loss or loneliness because they have transcended the reflex attachments of the ego that define the existence of loss and loneliness, that harbor the possibility of either loss or loneliness. On the subject of ego, the cause of all suffering, desolation of the ego with emphasis on destruction may very well be the goal or meaning of life that few will achieve before they breathe their last breaths. The sooner one can comprehend this and put it into action, the more enjoyable the life will be that flashes before one’s eyes just before it’s all over. Somewhere in that selfless life is a moment defining the whole purpose of being here, and if you blink you could miss it, keep on living aimlessly, and still die lost and confused after a life that felt too short.
A life filled with the depopulation of the self will not be the life one needs to escape while passing on to a better place. An ego ruled life will be a dissatisfied collection of regrets and painful memories of a wasted lifetime that needs to be relived just as the last grains of sand have run out, hoping for a new chance at all we so deserve but didn’t get, ending finally on some idea of happiness. Are we entitled to happiness? If so, why not make the simple correction within? To be unhappy is to be unwilling to be happy, mostly because of taking something so personally that it drowns you in an ocean of your own creation. All unhappiness can be dissipated in an instant by stepping away from the self and seeing all reasons for suffering fall into a loose writhing pile of parasitic creatures at a loss for a nurturing host.
One would do well to be comfortable early on not in fear of loneliness that brings on sadness, but instead the strength of being alone and requiring nothing for the self to want or need, just as it is in the final moments of passage from life into death. Happiness alone with the purpose as simple as the falling autumn leaf that helps signify the abandonment and disrespect of somebody else’s doorways that suddenly need to be slammed shut in the desolation of I can be the difference between life and death done right and life and death done with the intention to come back and do it all over again because you screwed it up so royally.

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