Your Life is a Wreck

Life is a wreck. Nothing will ever go right – at least, not for long. Rain will fall on the picnic. The basement will flood. The car tire will go flat. The computer’s hard drive will crash. The light in the kitchen will burn out. The ceiling fan will stop running. The refrigerator will stop cooling. The sidewalk will crumble. The roof will leak. The check will bounce. The shoestring will break. The pot will burn. The cup will crack. The shirt will shrink. The blanket will unravel. The garbage disposal will stop working. The dryer will stop producing hot air. The water heater will stop heating water. The boss will criticize the report. The kids will leave. The milk will spoil. The silver will tarnish. The cheese will mold. The ice cream will melt. The car lock will freeze. The brakes will squeak. The flowers won’t bloom. The paint will peel. The photograph will yellow. The page will crumble. The house won’t sell. Interest rates will fall. The market will crash. The flight will be delayed. The crop won’t come in. The clock will lose time. The candle will melt. The chain will rust. The vacuum will clog. Partners leave. Hair will thin. Muscle will atrophy. Joints will ache. The dog has fleas. Eyes lose their focus. Ears lose their hearing. Teeth loosen and fall out. Kidneys produce stones. Bowels get constipated. Reactions slow. Arteries clog. Unwanted growths grow in the wrong places. Discomfort and pain become intimate companions. Waist lines increase. Sex drives decrease. Memory dims. Liver spots darken. Skin thins. Mucus thickens. Retirement income is too little. Loneliness is too great. Property values diminish. Friends die. Careers fizzle. Livers stop cleaning blood. Lungs stop charging blood with oxygen. Immune sytems fall into disrepair. Neurons fire haphazardly. Hearts stop beating. Money or no money, property or no property, health or no health, peace or no peace, it all falls apart. Nothing will go right. The imagined you will not make it. The imagined you is doomed. Doomed. The imagined you that struggles and fights and argues and works at it and analyzes and plans and postures and gesticulates and makes itself into somebody will blow away like a thin pall of smoke from burning leaves in an autumn wind. The imagined you will dissipate like fog on a summer morning. The imagined you will melt like the last patch of ice at the corner of the field at the beginning of spring. Everything imagined, thought, felt, seen, heard, smelled, tasted, sensed in any way passes away like the last beat of the heart. All hope, all fear, all ignorance, all knowledge, all ideas of a “you” die presently to blossom as this unborn, unknowable, unsensable, spacious clarity reading these completely meaningless words. Better to give up now – who you think you are doesn’t have a chance. Go outside; smell the earth. Listen to the birds. Feel the breeze. Watch clouds.

You are the Livingness.

Isness being All.


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