PART 50

I’ve been thinking a lot about the pursuit of happiness within this brief time we have as mammals on this planet. And I know I’m the kid who doesn’t believe in Santa Claus… so I’ll try to keep it as positive as possible. It’s a battle though, isn’t it?

We want everything. We didn’t go through World War Two. We didn’t REALLYbelieve everything the pastor said. And existentialism has been a jacket to try on and not a helmet to view life through. My generation wants it all and that makes that pursuit I was talking about almost fucking impossible.

We want creative control over the murky corners of the firing neurons in our mystical brains. We want money that won’t control us, but allow us to reach the far corners of the Earth. Just enough cash to buy a house that has the kind of light in the morning that makes you want to read more. We want families that always seem out of reach and we are always in the shadows of our parents. We struggle feeling grown up like our fathers and mothers. We don’t know when to settle down or if we already have and either way it seems like we are giving something up and we don’t want to give up anything ever. We want careers that have their own individual voices and paths. Jobs that are not (at least in an obvious manner) shadowed by the influence of major corporations or are wrapped inherently in the evil fingers of capitalism.

And I’m not romantically saying that we’re a lost generation of wondering peoples. I’m saying that I do think happiness is much more complicated these days. There is no such thing as end goals and society (more than ever) is built around two things. Providing people with jobs that run the machine and then tricking the rest into submission by giving them positions that, in the end, advertise for that same machine.

And there is something inside our mammal brains that flinch awake at night to remind us that we once were hunted across exotic terrains. And stress and depression run rampant across the lives of everyone I know because we don’t have to wake up with the sun anymore and breath quietly through the gaps of trees. We feel guilty if we are not spending our time making a name for ourselves or finding our voice or proving that we are worthy of the attention of others…. ALL while escaping the corporate allowance of those things. I think that’s the worst thing about the existence we’ve created or fallen into… the guilt. The kind of guilt that could only exist with a group of people that can’t remember their pasts and don’t have a real understanding of their future.

And overall, I still don’t believe Santa Claus exists. But that doesn’t mean happiness can’t. Or fulfillment. Or whatever you really need or want or find missing that could make the 70ish years you exist on this planet feel OK. I think IT just has to be knocked down from the mountain by lightning and drug across the muddy plaines and pulled by rusty ropes up the side of a plateau where just you and IT sit and stare at each other and figure each other out. I don’t think it’s going to happen in the hustle and bustle of it all. I don’t think it will be given to you like a present.

WRANGLE THE ANIMAL OF FULFILLMENT!! It has been roaming wild for too long. Grab it by its fur and exhaust yourself by dragging it to the flat arena of isolation and reflection. Nurse your wounds as the sun sets around you… as the creature breaths heavily before you. Be alert and on guard of others out in the night wanting the beast you’ve captured. It’s precious. It’s an anomaly.  And it’s whispering to you, “Tell me what you want. It’s yours.”