The experiences aren't new
until you go through them.
The stories cycle again and again and again,
and we all feel we're so original,
but we aren't.
So many want to exceed humanity's narrow boundaries,
thinking that will set them free.
Better to look inward than outward;
better to explore new territory in there
than uselessly compare yourself to others.
Commercials would have us believe
that consuming the latest, the fanciest, the
shiniest is the way to go.
We need this or that, or
we're just ... insufficient.
But it's a game that shouldn't be played,
because it's a game that cannot be won.
The same goes with life.
It isn't a game, as much as so many want you to believe.
Games have winners and losers--
who's ahead, who's behind, who committed this error,
who trampled on these folks to advance their career,
who made it to the Club,
who has more green paper in their wallet,
who has more trinkets and awards and accolades.
I'm interested in exploring the contours of each day,
unique as they are, internal as they become when I truly notice them,
against the shimmering mirage that is the external sameness of days,
That isn't a game.
It's just ... being.
Why can't we just be?
This culture doesn't want me to breathe fully.
It despises full-breathers like me.
That's all it takes to see the bullshit and the horseshit and the
monstrosity of the morass, the cacophony of so
many unlives unlived.
Just ... breathe.