This morning I was up early and without any extensive dream to write up and follow up.  Yesterday I read up a bit on Tsongkhapa and it seems that they think he became a full buddha as opposed to a reincarnating bodhisattva. Not sure why some dude who died six hundred years ago is at the periphery of my consciousness. He was kind of a founder / renewer of Tibetan Buddhism.

I read to today that Nigel the bellend Farage is 62, roughly the same age as me. He is still gadding about in DC. People age at different rates and clearly he and BoJo have a lot more get up and go than me. My mentality is not about going out there and soap-boxing, stirring the shit. I don’t need the oxygen of attention.

Increasingly I am less and less engaged with the news. It is a same shit different day thing. The Spanish dude is the only one to openly lament the European response to Gaza which will be a stain on collective conscience one day and for ever going forward. Hindsight is often more accurate than spin and propaganda.

“And you did what while people were being slaughtered? Fuck all? Really?”

Irrespective of any dreams I may have, I am under no illusion that power and politics are seen as more important. I cannot fit into pretty much any narrative. There is not really a story to be spun or told which could prove socio-politically useful or beneficial. Therefore it is best that I remain “unheard” of. My estimation is that life here, despite any dreams, will carry on much to the same pace and rhythm. I am not planning to inflict myself on anyone else.

The world “out there” is not my circus nor are they my monkeys.

I estimate that I have perhaps a little more than a decade left to live. Which will largely pass away from public gaze, as a person living adjunct to life in as minimally participatory a manner as I can manage.

Emptiness and impermanence can lead to a sense of nihilism. That somehow there is no point or purpose to anything. It is all going to dissolve. So why build those cloud capp’d towers and gorgeous palaces?

I believe to an extent in fate and if fate decrees it, then my end of days might differ. I have had no sign of a change in tack yet.

Life here, despite the lack of events, moves fast. There are not multiple meetings and oh so important chock full diaries. “Where” I am moves day to day, my inclination arrives and vanishes. What I might have been up for one morning is gone the next. The now is quite fast. An aperture opens and closes.

Who knows “where” I will be this time tomorrow?