Tuesday, April 19, 2011


I feel sorry for human beings; we’re such pathetic creatures.

Everyone is so lonely; the fundamental human condition is one of profound solitude. We’re all trying to connect with something else, but, by definition, the effort to do so is doomed.

Tonight, I walked around a bit and saw people’s minor aspirations foiled; imagine how dashed their deepest dreams must be.

My waiter was taken aback that I only ordered a salad; just think of how real disappointments must hurt.

I’m not even sure I believe this; perhaps I’m just responding to a day during which I sat way too much; few things are worse for one’s psyche than being stuck in a chair. Unfortunately, as an attendee of a philosophy conference, that’s pretty much what I’ve got to look forward to for the next three days.

One thing is obvious: nearly everyone believes that sensual pleasure equals happiness. Notice the proliferation of restaurants, fast cars, and luxury appointments. But it’s just as clear that none of these things will really bring happiness—not that it’s easy at all to see what will.

I read in the paper today about a 16 year-old girl who survived a jump from the Golden Gate Bridge, something only about 2 in 100 people do. Were that the case for you, would you try again? Or would you take it as a sign of something and devote your life to living?

And if you did, what would that mean? I can’t imagine you’d ever want to sit at a podium on the street in San Diego and try to convince passersby to come have dinner at the restaurant that employs you. But would you sign up to be a monk instead?

That’s my point (assuming I have one); no matter what we do, it’s all just pointless. I don’t know what this means; perhaps it’s just further evidence that all one can really do is rise early and begin Surya Namaskara.


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