You don’t know what you’re doing. I’m not saying that you’re a fraud, a phony, or an imposture even though sometimes you might feel that way. I’m not saying that you’re walking around in someone else’s life. I’m saying, plainly, that you don’t know what you’re doing. That’s all.
Hey, maybe none of us does. You see halfly the climate emergency, the crumbling of liberal democracy, the inefficacy of nation-states, the bullshit character of much modern work, the long-ago vanquished or just vanished hierophanies. You see the diminution of human character and the attenuation of public discourse through outrage porn. You gasp. You palpate nihilism to see how far it’s spread–but then where hasn’t it spread? You sneer at hustle porn and glamour toil. You’d like to say that it’s all a big shit show, this fucking modern human drama, but you don’t find that pronouncement believable. You don’t believe yourself.
And rightly so. Because calling it a shit show is a big cop-out.
Still, you’d like to have something like Conviction, Earnestness, Resolve–dare I say Truth? Wouldn’t that be nice? Give me something to believe in. Heard that one many times before?
But you don’t have it. Instead, you’ve got don’t-know-what-I’m-doing. Each day you walk into the office or into a co-working space or into a coffee shop and part of you, that still restless part, can’t believe it. And just before you turn on the computer, you feel that something again, that something that’s always there yet rarely noticed.
Start here and forget about the rest. Stop kidding yourself and start with not knowing what you’re doing. See what arises in you, with you, through you when you accept the utter cluelessness of your life, of Life. Forget about the rest–about all the contents of your thoughts and emotions–and rest into this. Start here. Why not start with introspection, the sinewy turning of the question inward and downward and throughward? You have nowhere else to go.