I’m Languishing

I’m languishing.  Under what strain I can’t say – I don’t know.  Standing before a horizon as open as it is uncertain – full of possibilities and opportunities.  Yet I’m languishing, or I feel as if I am.

Miserly loves company – but I can’t say that anyone would want to come here, to hear another person dwell on their own suffering, their own inability to act.  I continue to waver.  I head down a particular path – I can’t say I look for certainty.  I head down a particular path because it’s cover – I’m engaged in some project that appears, ostensibly, aimed towards some ends that are, again, ostensibly, understandable.

No, I say I do love what I’m doing.  I can’t say it’s a disease to desire not to settle.  But this constant equivocation, flouting or shirking my responsibilities… or should I say “responsibilities”.  For that I can only ask – to what ends?

To find something I love, something I could dedicate myself to.  Why this whimper in the dark?  Rather, to speak with a full chest and move headlong into something with a good heart, a clean conscience, fortitude and resolve…

I laugh a little and think to myself “dear brother, you know yourself too well for that”.  What couldn’t critical enquiry penetrate, what cracks wouldn’t soon become gaping holes in any edifice you try to construct – on what foundation would you seek to construct this New Jerusalem!  Could it be anything else than a castle in the sky?

And so the retort comes “Well, so be it!  So long as you can embrace it, what’s the difference?  So long as you can devote yourself to it.”

Perhaps I’ve given up the quest for truth.  I search instead for something meaningful that I could devote myself to.  I think, something so pure and good that any questions of meaning, substance or truth wouldn’t arise.  There’s nothing that constant questioning couldn’t make wither.  Even the grandest ideals may be left dried out and shrivelled under the intense light of constant scrutiny.

I mean, to find something where meaning would never be a question; where the question of meaning would never or arise, or would seem so absurd as to be immediately dismissed.

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