So I’m sitting here at what, something like a few minutes after one on a saturday morning, and I’m getting to thinking again. I’m wondering about what I want. What I want is a drink…
…okay, so I’m sitting here with a glass of water and two, check that, one red grape, wondering what it is I want. And I’m no longer speaking in the digestive system sense of the word. I sit here and think about this life that I’m going through, and what’s wrong with it. And I mean what is wrong with it. Nothing. I have friends who care about me, family that loves me, a roof over my head that seems in no particular hurry to collapse upon me, I learn things day to day, I have clean water and a comfy bed and my folks would be quite happy for me to live with them until whichever of us moves on first. And it’s nice here. So what more could I want? Indpendence? Self-Reliance? That’s all just pride and I know I can do it anyhow. The answer isn’t in wall to wall speakers, more shelves of books or more fruit boxes full of CDs. I can’t really pin it down. It came as a great shock to me personally, when after many, many years I realised I had no real intention of either being rich or plans of world domination. I was truly shocked. I will never buy a two hundred thousand dollar car. It wont happen. Not because it couldn’t be done, but because I simply don’t have the desire to. So I’ve got all these things that I don’t want, which doesn’t really help answer my question.
Of course eventually I keep coming back to the same answer I always come back to. That being that I don’t want anything, just to do everything. And I don’t really know why. I can’t think of a rational reason for it really. I mean while a six-car garage full of exotic automobiles would be awfully nice, and a portfolio of stock and real estate would ensure I had peace of mind until I turn to dust, but I can’t see myself being the kind of person that has either. I just want to do it. I want to have done it all, I want to have seen every thing and heard every sound, I want to have walked every mile and pondered every possible thought. I want to have done it all, but I simply can’t fathom why. I mean surely had I done everything, anything would lose it’s flavour. But the thing is that there will never be time for me to do it. That’s the rub. No matter how hard I try or how fast I move, I’ll never be able to do it all. I’ll never get it all done. But for some reason I still want to try and do as much as I possibly can.
I never professed to have understood myself, let alone anyone else. I always thought it a grave insult to say to another person that you understood them completely, as if they could encompass in entirety the other persons being, thoughts and consciousness and package it somewhere in the back of their mind as another thing that they understood and could process, that one persons entirety was so insignificant and simple that it could be contained in another persons mind. I find the concept ludicrous. On the same token, I don’t believe that I will ever fully understand myself, what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. I don’t believe that I will ever accomplish something and be “done”. I’ll never know what I want, and that is why I want to do everything, as if it’s some vain mortal search for something that might be what it is that I want to find or experience, as if my life were some cosmic journey and I was looking for the end. And so I am part of this ludicrous conundrum where I embark on what I know is a fruitless search for what is an indisputably non-existant grail of higher consciousness. I’m running in a race to nowhere, but for some utterly absurd reason I feel like I have to proceed until I am totally and utterly spent. It’s like there is no answer to my question and I don’t even know what the question is, like playing Jeopardy with infinity.
There is no destination to which I am heading, there is no solution to my puzzle and it will never be possible for me to know how the rabbit comes out of the hat. But because of some part of me which I simply cannot comprehend, I will be tossing and turning the top hat and staring at every angle until the end of time itself.
So glass empty and grapes gone, I really do not know what I want. So all that there is left to do is get up tomorrow morning…
…and do it again.