If you visualize a glass bowl full of water, then a few drops of food coloring falling into that water, that’s how existentialism tends to come to me.
Not all at once.
Just ribbons of a specific mood floating there. Zooming in on it, down to the micro-level.
It’s blue, in my imagination it’s a very deep blue and if you let it ,it will consume all of you. I’m certain that I’m not special and I’m certain that other people experience this from time to time, just a thing.
The uselessness.
Once again, I’ll bring up Ecclesiastes, it’s always been my favorite book and it always will be. You can completely separate organized religion from the words, and the words stand on their own.
Not the vibe of a tent revival. Not fairy tales about angels and demons. Not a person in a rundown sanctuary speaking in a made up language, not the person pretending to translate that language from God into words we can all understand,,,, just a dude thinking.
And that’s why I love Solomon.
It’s the Dark Side of the Moon thousands of years earlier.
It’s pulling back from the image of the glass bowl, it’s realizing that you’re actually in an ocean and there are barrels and barrels of food coloring moving through all of us.
That book is worth reading, also it’s short, not a huge commitment.I try to read it once a year.
When I was a little kid , out in the woods with my dog, sometimes I’d get lost , venture out into acres on the other side of the river. There would be a moment of real fear, like I had found somewhere new and I’d never make my way back. I’d just die out there, alone.
Then I’d find a campsite. I’d find a long dead campfire and maybe a little trash.
“Signs of life”
Other people have been out here before, and if they made it back, I can make it back.
Little kid logic.
That’s why I like Ecclesiastes. In some weird way it feels like an antidote to existentialism.
dawn 