What is there even to say in this world? There comes the point where all questioning ends because one realizes that all questions only stay because we hold on to them. They move on like the wind and occasionally one reaches us, they are like the everlasting flow of waves in the ocean. One should not be distracted by one of those waves because the attempt to dissect an ocean is fruitless, only confusion can be the result. This is what happens when we focus on the questions, on the thoughts. When the nature of life is understood, they can be poetically experienced as a part of a big mystery. But that mystery is not one of intellect or abstraction, but of real sensation and feeling. The moment thought becomes detached from feeling, it has lost all meaning. One must realize that the very desire to explore with and within the mind comes out of a feeling. Unfortunately, the attempt to formulate or formalize that sensation with words is impossible, and if that impossibility is not realized, one will face immense confusion. It is like the attempt to paint with music or to explain vision to someone who is blind. It can only be experienced. In the same way, that which we call wisdom is more a transformation of a whole being than any kind of knowledge in the form of words. It is a deep and sensual realization. We can be glad that we exist in this world with many limitations. Paradoxically, freedom becomes only possible trough limitation. Why is that so? Because without limitation there is no form, there are no boundaries, there are no ends, and there are no beginnings, and existence itself becomes impossible. How can there be a will, if everything is? If everything is, then nothing is. All and nothing seem to be no opposites, but the exact same thing. But let us not go deeper into such abstractions of thought. The desires and necessities of this world are plain obvious, they are not hidden, they are not something one must search for. The problem is only that the mind is of so much more capable than our basic existence. In its transcending nature, it creates more and more abstractions, for its intelligence is always expanding with an innate curiosity for discovery. It is essentially the driving force of human life. It lies deeply in our nature to act. We can easily understand why in the past nearly only people privileged with the luxury of free time — or perhaps not privileged, it depends on the perspective — had filled their life with existential questions. But even so that other people haven’t written large volumes or held philosophical discourses, they have still asked themselves meaningful questions. It is inevitable, every human alive will do so. But not everyone will, can or wants to go deeper into the exploration. Nobody has to, if they don’t want to — even though some have no other choice, for their minds won’t let them rest even for a second. The philosopher who keeps searching for final answers will eventually become insane — many have indeed gone so. Instead, one must become a poet, one who explores for the joy of discovery, sensation and experience of this mystery, one who creates beauty and ecstasy. A poet can change our perception of that which exists in the world and reveal more wonder, love and appreciation. Of course, he can also create more suffering, sadness and misery, if that is what he shares. He will give the “ordinary” mind just more reasons to suffer, he will create problems which have not been seen before, and many readers won’t be able to defend themselves from those confusions. Even though philosophers and poets have the potential to create more peace, joy and love in this life, many of them have just spread their own suffering and inflated the misery of others. People have been seduced by their intelligence, for indeed the thoughts and feelings they have revealed contain ingenuity of intellect and creativity in them. But intellect and creativity themselves can be put both to positive and negative use, indeed they are free from any evaluating connotation. Those writers, those speakers, those humans of words, thoughts and stories have not intended to do evil, they have been confused too, maybe so even more than all others. It is because their perception is so much greater, and if the mind is not understood, then a higher perception and intelligence will just result in even greater problems. All this is the result of understanding oneself as a scientist of experience itself, for a scientist doesn’t care about beauty, good or bad, he just wants to understand. But again, there is nothing to understand. Thoughts are just another form of music. They should not be tried to be understood, but simply be experienced. Just as music is not to be finished but meaningful in every moment, thinking must be artistic and playful. One doesn’t listen to a piece of music just to hear the first or last tone. Music is a continuous flow of experience and knows no rush for coming to an end. An artist is not necessarily one who paints paintings, composes music, writes stories or poetry, but one who explores freely, deeply connected with the sensations he feels. One who simply does something without this deep artistic sense might play an instrument, might paint something, or write a poem, but he is no artist. And this is not meant in any judging sense — those who are still concerned with comparison of who is better or worse, are far, far behind on this discourse — but about realizing how one can experience the wonder of this mysterious life. Being an artist is not about creating great masterworks, but being open to the sensations of life, authentic and truly individually experienced exploration and feeling. Artistry knows no rules or plans other than one’s own sensation, and just as life itself, the key to it its exploration lies in spontaneity and improvisation. Why is that so? Because this means truly being aware of the moment and creating out of real sensation, not abstract imagination within the confused mind. In the moment only improvisation is possible. The moment one ceases to be spontaneous, one does not live in the moment anymore. Why should one care about living in the moment anyway, you may ask? Because only the moment is real and when one has experienced the sensation of doing so, one doesn’t want to return to the abstractions of the mind. Then why are you writing, you may also ask? Because I am writing in the moment. Those thoughts are freely improvised, I am letting them flow spontaneously the same way I would improvise music on the piano or the guitar. I am not attached to any abstract idea of me writing this, there is no painful urge or objective in doing so, but simply a joy of exploration. When the time comes for it to end, it will end and when the time comes for it to begin again, it will begin once more. Only out of intuition and spontaneity, one can become aware of such sensations. Trough abstract thought it is impossible because thought knows no direction and on its own has no meaning or objective. That is why everyone is so troubled with finding out what it is the right thing to do. Again, the mind is like a blind person visually searching for nothing. Don’t try to think about this too much. Start to explore improvisation and it will become clear.
