I am no longer able to open up to anybody. I don’t trust a single soul, not to hurt me anymore. I’ve closed myself off from the outside world, as this entire charade outside feels like a game I don’t want to be a part of. But I am part of it, this infinite universe, this meat grinder. I should be grateful, I should thank God every morning for the great life I have. The cry, the loudest scream of anger and frustration, comes from the incompetent. Sorry you had to read the lines above, but I feel like that, and that is because I probably never understood the basic assignment of living. I am struggling at understanding how to be fully alive and committed. And I am 54 years old! Think about it, playing a game of life and not understanding the basic rules.
Of course, this is frustrating. It feels like the rules have been hidden and made unavailable for most of us. Maybe that is the unwritten rule of this game; we have to figure it out. I mean, sure, we can see that the collective has set up some kind of rules for playing: it is mostly about amassing the most money, having a family, and buying stuff, as much stuff as possible. That seems to be the game. But… really?
Now there is this twist that has been introduced in the past 10 years, as this sort of behavior is destroying the ecosystem. What now? Therefore, the rules have changed: we have to consume as much as possible, but this time responsibly—buying electric, doing compost, buying smart—and the marketers are still playing with us, toying with us. Using AI to get into our minds, into our habits, and playing the mentalist game to push us deeper into the trance of consuming. A bag of impulses, needy, thirsty, hungry for anything that could help us forget to seek the real purpose. Because we will never get to that—possibly because there is none.
The bottom line is that we are not meant to stay here; this is just an intermediate time before the great leap into Death, the unknown next step.
I would like to go on another empty quest for a little while, about the topic discussed over and over, turned into so many variations of dramas, perversions, twisted comedy, or appalling tragedy—the mating process, sex. Watching many romantic comedies, Disney movies, we are given a false sense of what it should be: the meeting of feminine and masculine energy to produce life. And then making a mess of it. Union, and breakup, exchange of fluids, impulses of romance, and later rage—the greatest experience of them all. I mean, psychedelic drugs are not accessible to most of us, powerful drugs, the ones that give insight into our souls, the ones that will introduce us to the higher realms, but sex can be accessible to the masses, and we can all relate to the basic experience and ask for more. It is mostly enjoyable. Mostly.
Sure, if you are 20, 30, 40, possibly, but past 50, it is miserable. 50+, it is pathetic. Still believing in meeting our perfect match past 50 is so tremendously pathetic; it just turns my stomach upside down. Why are we still trying this path? Because otherwise, the emptiness is too much to handle.
If there is no romance, then the only thing left is death. Sure, the pharmaceutical industry found a way to overcome impotence with Viagra, being unable to love is synonymous with being dead, and we should be afraid of death. Death is bad; it is the end, the very final destination.
But is it really? Is Death really bad? We do not know. We only know that from that point in time, this meeting of souls in the physical world is going to end. The waking up in the morning, the taking care of our body, the eating, the nurturing, the pleasuring, the enjoying through our physical senses of dancing, of seeing beautiful things, of smelling, of tasting, of touching will cease. And boy, do we like this part of the human experience.
Now everything has a price, a counterbalance of sorts, a side to it—you will smell of roses, but sometimes you will smell unpleasant fragrances, you will see beautiful things, but sometimes ugly, you will hear beautiful music, but sometimes you would rather not hear certain things. And that is the price to pay for having all that. And you cannot have only the bright, pleasant side of things.
And then comes my life lesson: I was so sure in my thirties that the great source of my spiritual pain was the lack of romance; I was so sure that meeting a woman, the soulmate, my perfect partner, would resolve that—I was so blind, so stupid, so in pain. As everything in this world, the higher we went, the deeper we would get later… there is that balance in everything
from blogclif.wordpress.com/2025/08/12/extract-from-my-journal-in-2023