You can’t get off.
Life’s the ride that doesn’t stop, until it stops and then it isn't life anymore. We don't really want to get off the train anyway, the scenery is beautiful, there's good conversation, this thing called love makes you feel and the sheer possibility of it all can get one a happy bit of motion sickness. Choices birthing choices make your head spin with every action taken. Stupid dumb causal chains sitting in a pile forming the outline of that person you see in the mirror.
It's so strange to be anything at all, sitting in kindergarten being slowly introduced to life, them leaving so much out and you taking everything in. I learn my name, I write with a number two pencil.
Teacher speaks of your future adult selves and that’s where the problem starts.” You're going to grow up and have responsibility some day. “Yeah, what about right now, huh? What the fuck is this? What am I? What's going on? Nobody listens to kids so you learn to forget the question. It's all too much. The bright light, the sounds, colors and all those different things that happen on all those faces, why does it all make me want to smile and cry together? At the tiny point of all the power this little electro-chemical reaction can muster, on a plane of possibility governed by the ability to keep the tears from clouding my vision and put one foot in front of another, I’ll continue on.
So now I’m dying. Still living, but I know that one day this could end. Be gone, not just gone but not aware that I was ever here. Never aware that I ever was aware. You know, nothing. Clearly recognizing such a prospect, awareness of the immediate moment comes into absolute focus. That feeling of ultra vivid, ecstatic, proprioceptive communion with the things around you is lifting you to something greater than awake. Of senses bubbling over, your point of view cutting razor thin through the cusp of the moment, sentience distilled two hundred proof. I’m six years old, if only I could be responsible for something perhaps this feeling might subside. Not that I want it to, but I’m so afraid of losing myself I can’t even bear the thought of going to sleep. Got to learn to forget until I can find someone to listen and the chance to speak.
At the present my self is so out of sync with the life happening around me. Dreams at night have me running out of my mind, traversing the globe speaking with everyone I've ever known and spirits I've yet to meet. I’m tired when I awake, dazed and confused thinking about why I can't bring this back with me, why I can't show this dumb funny shit to anyone else. Most of the day is spent forgetting the night; walking sleepy, digesting yr foods and pushing them back out, forgetting where I am and why I’m here. The day rolls over to night and I’m suddenly excited again, about to board a ship heading to nod.
In habit or a comfortable rut one can lose it completely. Living but unaware of the question, watching it all pass you by while you go to work, pay your bills and watch your teevee. Choosing not to choose, strung out on money, useless inventions, and using other bodies to please yourself, days become years all lacking weight and leaking slowly from behind your eyes. Watching and acting are mutually exclusive.
You've got to remember you're on a slope. This livings got momentum. Forget comfort and complete comprehension 'cause it’s not going to happen. Learn every day where to place the fulcrum, as needed make adjustments. All to find the balance to be able to steer with your heart, beating fast and precise because it already knows the way. Empiricism has its place but in this world commands too large of a share. We've got it all backwards. Intuition is where it’s at, reason is an adjunct.
Me so small and its all I know.
All the chatter of this site is pointless and inane like the little voice in your head who doesn’t know when to stop. The continuing sum of the nothing that we can't get enough of. You’ve got to run it all by the child you were, and live awake and dreaming. The question has no answer but asking it is worth everything.