So? What now?

No more question, and I've lost my motivation to go seek people to entertain me so I can entertain them. I guess this is going to turn into a blog after all.

It's Friday, 1 AM and I'm in my house and I'm tired. The Wikileaks stuff has been plastered all over the news. The Anon attacks have given me a strange sense of hope mixed with anger. These days, I've almost completely lost faith in civilization, in education, in politics, and in mankind. The rich get richer while they exploit the poor. See, Wallmart. On top of that, they lie about it, they buy politicians, and they use the legal system as a tool to attack the unfortunate even though it was designed to protect the unfortunate. The media is in it too. There's so much lying and spinning and viciousness that I just can't take it. The spinning gets me the most.

The prospects of an Anonymous group of vigilantes wreaking havoc on corporate America makes me happy. Is it right? I don't think so. But it may correct a more serious wrong in the process. That's a slippery slope, I realize.

Amidst all this, I'm still contemplating my own path. So many options, and I want none of them. Almost none. I would consider being a psychologist even though I'm turned off by the maze of "ethical" rules and formality embedded in the therapeutic culture. I've helped people before. Lot's of people. They call me up or come talk to me regularly, at least once a week (and I haven't been very social these days). I'm able to help them because they trust me and feel comfortable. Being a stuff room for one hour will fuck all that up. I couldn't see the person in their natural habitat for as long as I wanted. I couldn't buy them gifts and perform social rituals with them like eating or getting yogurt (not a very impressive array, granted). And I'd be taking money for helping them which fucks things up too. I like helping people because they need it, not because I need them.

Anyway, I don't know. I found a Zen Master named Dogen who lived in the 13th century. The guy was bad ass. The more I read about his understanding of truth and peace, the more I find agreement between his experiences and my own. I've been writing about his philosophy (Soto Zen) for a while without knowing it. Find any post I've written on Rest and you'll get a sample of Soto Zen. I'll write a poem.

Happiness is letting go,
But letting go takes practice.
Try to let go and you'll fail,
Because you can't force something unforceable,
Just as you can't grab on to empty space.

Your mind always has you running somewhere "better,"
Because it thinks this is never enough:
This discomfort, this confusion, this boredom, this void.
What are you running away from?
Stop and listen without any expectations
To what's happening right now.
Does it really have to be better?
Do you really need something to be happy? Really? 
I call bullshit.
If you think your happiness depends on anything at all,
Think again.
It depends on nothing,
Not even enlightenment.

Your mind will get away with murder,
Convincing you that you're not entitled or capable
Of sitting here in this moment
And letting things be.
Leave them alone.
Is it boring? Painful? Mediocre? Empty? Disorienting?
So what?
Just wait.

That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.