Person, or derivative problem?

Wake up, beautiful! This is all there is! 

In a world obsessed with finding itself, know that you have already arrived. There is no self-help book, guru, drug, life coach, cult of personality, or school of philosophy that can give you what is already yours. These things are guides - flares, clues, smoke signals. They mark the path home, only you are the path and you are already home. The magic beats under your skin. It blinks when you blink, breathes when you breathe, eats with you, goes to work and tidies the house and makes the shopping list with you. 

So much of our time is wasted on grandiose ideas of ascension, becoming - who we would be and the work we would do if all were finally quiet. If we finally had blank, achieved blank, if we perfected our routines - our iron will, our every fitness, the machine of productive life. This is the fantastical second self, the projected foil of each and every wound and weakness. This is the mind killer! This is the little death that brings total obliteration! 

If I told you that you died in your sleep last night - that was it, pack it up - that would have been a perfectly complete hero’s journey. Of course it would. Who are you to measure scale, to pass a single judgement on human life - an iteration of god/nature/source/universe? Your loved ones, under a deadline, would summarize and distill you. Not inaccurately - you’re not that complicated. Time would dissolve you into a Symbolism. Time would dissolve that, too. Hardly bleak: this is the greatest gift available to us! And we have no idea how to use it, balking instead at the absurdity, the uncertainty, while the white sands shrink. 

I’ve been there, I’m still there! Madly charting the good life instead of living one. Too meta to move, clouded by various half-cooked awareness-es, so close and so far. I’ll tell you exactly what my problem is, while I reach right for it. 

The answer - you sweet and beautiful person, who is perfectly enough - is this. You won’t find the glasses on your head, so stop running. Do what comes naturally, say what you think honestly. Forgive yourself when you trip on your feet. Keep it light, silly, dark, earnest. Live for the pleasures that may otherwise be mistaken for the colorless slog of an endless march. 

Eye of the beholder. You get it.