I want to return. But why am I here? Why do I want to ‘return’? Why do I want to stop my awakenings?
I once gave precedence to reason over all else, even my desires. Surely there must be an answer to these questions. I sought a neat, conclusive answer built on logic and reason that could justify my desire. I believed that if I could find a reason, then I could begin.
Meanwhile, my desire for peace never went away. I never stopped experiencing the pain of existence, or looking for ways to overcome it. However, in seeking a reason, I was paralyzed and unable to take steps toward the peace I desired for fear I did not understand why.
When I put my situation into context I can clearly see the trap I was in. If I woke up one day lost and in pain, what would I do? Would I find my way out? Or would I wander around trying to figure out why I was there?
I would find my way out.
Then why have I spent my entire life doing the latter?
To understand, I can look to the beginning. During the first part of my existence, left to my own devices, I would have achieved my desire to return. But I was helpless to overcome the world’s will to preserve and extend my awakenings. I was taught to fear the peace that I wanted most (aka, death), find comfort in inferior worldly desires, and self-preserve.
By the time I was forced into schooling I had accepted my existential rape, forgotten my original desire, and learned how to self-pacify. I spent all my time around peers who had also forgotten, preparing for a life of production, consumption, and procreation.
But it was reasoning that created the greatest obstacle for existential self-awareness. I learned that everything happens for a reason, so if a thing existed, then it had a reason. My focus narrowed to that which had a reason, excluding everything that did not.
Once I was released from the education camp, I began to search earnestly for a deeper meaning I could anchor myself to. I knew something was wrong, but a lifetime of indoctrination led me to believe that I had to know ‘why’ before I could see it. I ignored what I wanted, and instead got lost trying to uncover the mechanics of existence.
My desire for peace started the moment I was brought here against my will. Reason, on the other had, did not appear until long after I had forgotten. Reason is a parasitic concept that injects self-doubt and skepticism, imprisoning the host in a state of disorientation and paralysis. What does it matter why I am here if I know that I do not want to be?
My desire for peace does not require a reason to be true. My desire for peace needs only recognition and fulfillment.
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Does this mean that life does not have a reason?
Reason is a feature of my conceptual environment along the lines of opinions, beliefs, and values. I can decide if life has a reason or not.
My cardinal desire for peace, however, is a persistent, unchanging, inescapable force. It precedes reason.