“I was undeceived, that is all. I used to create a world and populate it. Now I don’t do it any more. [Now I live] in the void beyond being and non-being, beyond consciousness. This void is also fullness; do not pity me. The mind ceased producing events.
The ancient and ceaseless search stopped — I wanted nothing, expected nothing, accepted nothing as my own. There was no “me” left to strive for. Even the bare “I am” faded away.
The other thing that I noticed was that I lost all my habitual certainties. Earlier I was sure of so many things, now I am sure of nothing. But I feel that I have lost nothing by not knowing, because all my knowledge was false. My not knowing was in itself knowledge of the fact that all knowledge is ignorance, that “I do not know” is the only true statement the mind can make.”
Photo by: Peter Mysticdidge Plorin
As a lamp, a cataract, a star in space / an illusion, a dewdrop, a bubble / a dream, a cloud, a flash of lightning / view all created things like this.
You are working on a first draft and small wonder you’re unhappy. If you lack confidence in setting one word after another and sense that you are stuck in a place from which you will never be set free, if you feel sure that you will never make it and were not cut out to do this, if your prose seems stillborn and you completely lack confidence, you must be a writer.