There is a ton of work to do. We all need real work, work with our hands, work with the sweat of our brows and the strength of our backs, work made with an eye for intricacy and attention to detail. This work nourishes our sense of purpose in the world. We need to find a passion and stick to it.
The flipside of our physical real world work is the work that goes on inside us, in the reasons and impetus behind our physical work. In art, in love, in friendship, in nurturing one thing or another we bring into the world something that wasn’t there before, this love and creativity that makes everything so much better.
Physical things fall apart eventually, everything dies and literally evolves through the bardos of the cosmos. I used to believe in the physical realness of spirituality, but with the glaring absence of any proof that any magical beings exist after my 30 odd years of life, I do not believe any of that any more. It is all just a bunch of cults trying to take power over your life. I only believe in this universe and what it has to offer. I believe that when we create art or write down words or even decorate a house we are engaging in a dance with life and making the world a better place.
I believe in beauty, the beauty of reality and the beauty of so-called ugliness. The Koine Greek word for beauty was horaios, derived from hora meaning hour. Essentially their concept of beauty was simply “being of one’s hour.” Someone trying to appear older or younger may not be beautiful, and in fact may be a tragic or comedic figure. That concept reminds me of the Japanese wabi sabi idea that I have always been intrigued with. In the same way, Wabi sabi is looking at time as an essential component of beauty. So the smile wrinkles on an old monk’s face are beautiful, as are the cracks in an old wooden post.
Beauty is not separate from time, and time is what creates meaning in our souls. Time reflects beauty onto our minds, and when we look instead toward magical beings or pathological human morality codes instead for meaning we go mad. We except religion because we are afraid of time and mortality. Fear doesn’t create beauty.
I could state simply that I know there is no such thing as a god or the devil. But I don’t really know anything at the end of the day. Perhaps there is, but I’m pretty sure there isn’t. I don’t know why we seem to need to come up with fantasies when all around us we have beauty dropping on our heads by the ton.
My post is rambling. I could go back, edit, revise, make the prose tighter. But every now and then I realize that the reason I blog is because I enjoy sharing my rambling tangential mind, and there is beauty in the inconsistency and wildness there.
So today do not judge yourself for not being perfect, because there is no such thing.