Run in the forest.
Faster & further than you thought you could.
Sprint until your legs give way, you slip and fall & your knees bleed. Look around & realize where you are — in the forest, alone. And the forest doesn’t care about your bloody knees — so you’ll get up & run again.
Without your knowing, nor your consent, the world of things will recede around you & you’ll be left with nothing but the metaphysics of being.
Your mind & heart race as fast as blood pumps through your veins. Now you feel alive — like the run has just begun. You don’t know where you are & you don’t care — because time itself is also gone. Anxiety is gone. All that cripples you is gone. Nothing exists outside of now — the metaphysics of being.
This as close as it gets to the Stoics’ ataraxia or Buddha’s enlightenment.
Bathed in silence your soul is free to breathe. Your intellectual shackles shattered by the endless trees.
After a while, of course, your body will give in & your legs will cease. You’ll look around & find a perfect place to rest. Sitting in the dirt under a tree, or on some gargantuan rock, you feel pure & cleansed & with it comes the clarity of mind that brings forth (in abundance) solutions to all your trivialities. You are within & without, granted sufficient distance from your own existence to effortlessly peel away the obstacles that have occluded your clarity of mind.
Regarless of your priors you can’t help empathise with the pantheist. For here is where all men find peace. Here is where all men are equally small.
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The only truths we know are metaphysical — all other dealings are transient flavours of the day. To me there only appear to be two truths: one is love, the other is the metaphysics of being. Our relationships are stochastic, our mathematics is axiomatic, our science is bound by apparatus. All secondary to the two truths.