An old man philosophizing about his missed wakefulness in life.

When I was young all I wanted to be was successful, really successful I wanted to be, without even knowing what that meant for me.

When I was young all I wanted to be was rich, really rich I wanted to be, without realizing that there was wealth other than monetary.

When I was young all I wanted to gain was power, power I wanted to gain, without even knowing what to do with it.

Now I’m old, old and shaken. Shaken by the dimension of my blindness,
my ridiculous seriousness.

All my life I was disillusioned, all my life I denied myself, because all my life I didn’t even know myself. Strived for all that was thought to be gold without thinking about whether I liked gold.

All energy dedicated to the preparation of a peaceful end. A peaceful end of a successful, wealthy, powerful life full of seriousness and despair.

How could I be so imprisoned by the illusion that life is just a preparation for the end? That it is possible to make it peaceful, when the whole journey was nothing but a shaky house of cards made of useless gold?

I had lost my senses, we’ve all lost our senses, lost our senses to our minds.
It had blinded me. It had blinded me so that I didn’t notice the beauty of my trip.

I had been unable to recognize that the dancer was not moving his body to the rhythm in deep ecstasy merely for coming to his end posture. That the musician was not playing his whole captivating composition for the last note. That the poet was not arranging his words so beautifully just for putting his last full stop. Just as I was not supposed to merely live my whole life for that damn end.

Now, as I am old, old and shaken, I have found my senses. I found out what gold is for me. It is the joyfulness. The deep joy of creating, of unfolding while life is happening. It is the recognition of ourselves, of the beautiful power of light that might arise out of the deep darkness of our innermost being, if we just dare to look at it.