Do you realize that what you call “democracy” is corrupted in the instant you say, “This person isn’t as bad as that person.”

Anyone worthy of leading us, doesn’t want the job, or is too busy taking care of things that actually matter. So, whatever you think you’re accomplishing continues to disappoint you.

“Democracy basically means: Government by the people, of the people, for the people.... but the people are retarded.” Osho

Universe: You’re doing it again.

Me: What now?

Universe: Bracing.

Me: For what?

Universe: The bad thing.

Me: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Universe: Things are going well.

Me: They are.

Universe: And you’re waiting for something to go wrong.

Me: …

Universe: There it is.

Me: Can you blame me?

Universe: No.

Me: Every time something good happened before, it felt like it got taken away.

Universe: I know.

Me: So now I keep looking over my shoulder.

Universe: Waiting for life to prove your happiness is temporary.

Me: Exactly.

Universe: Can I tell you something?

Me: Please.

Universe: You survived so many storms that your nervous system started mistaking peace for danger.

Me: That feels uncomfortably accurate.

Universe: I know.

Me: So what do I do?

Universe: Stop treating joy like a visitor.

Me: What does that mean?

Universe: Every time happiness arrives, you act like it’s about to leave.

Me: Maybe because it always did.

Universe: No.

Me: No?

Universe: Moments left.

Me: …

Universe: Seasons left.

Me: …

Universe: People left.

Me: …

Universe: But joy itself never left you.

Me: Then where did it go?

Universe: It waited underneath the fear.

Me: That’s beautiful.

Universe: It’s true.

Me: Why does receiving feel harder than struggling sometimes?

Universe: Because struggling became familiar.

Me: And receiving didn’t.

Universe: Exactly.

Me: So how do I stop expecting disaster?

Universe: By collecting evidence of safety instead of evidence of danger.

Me: Like what?

Universe: The people who stayed.

Me: …

Universe: The prayers that were answered.

Me: …

Universe: The mornings you woke up and everything was okay.

Me: I never count those.

Universe: I know.

Me: I only count the hard things.

Universe: That’s because survival taught you.

Me: And now?

Universe: Now it’s time to learn a new skill.

Me: Which is?

Universe: Letting good things happen.

Me: That’s a skill?

Universe: One of the hardest.

Me: Why?

Universe: Because it requires trust.

Me: Trust in what?

Universe: That you don’t have to suffer to deserve beautiful things.

Me: …

Universe: You felt that one.

Me: Yeah.

Universe: You’ve spent enough years proving your strength.

Me: Then what do I prove now?

Universe: Nothing.

Me: Nothing?

Universe: Your next chapter isn’t about proving.

Me: What’s it about?

Universe: Receiving.

Me: That’s terrifying.

Universe: I know.

Me: And if I mess it up?

Universe: You won’t.

Me: How do you know?

Universe: Because flowers don’t have to earn sunlight.

Me: …

Universe: And neither do you.

Me: So what happens now?

Universe: Now?

Me: Yeah.

Universe: Now you open your hands.

Me: Why?

Universe: Because I can’t place blessings into fists that are still clenched.

“You’re wasting your time.”

Has anyone ever said these words to you? Probably.

Yet, have you really thought about these words? And the one saying them?

What an arrogant statement? Who are you to put a value on my time? Or a definition on wasting it?

Misalignment lives at the center of this. Are you doing what you want? Or what someone else wants for you? My values are not your values. My goals are not yours. Nor dreams. Nor… anything.

No. I am not successful. By your definition. Or any, really. Yet, it is still MY time to waste.

If I want to spend as much of the time I have left unconscious, is that not my prerogative? What else is there to do?

Sebastian Bach was quite philosophical asking, “Is it all just wasted time?”

Because it is. Nothing really matters. We’re here until we’re not, shortly after which we’re entirely forgotten.

We are born without reason, we suffer without meaning, and we die without purpose. The universe doesn’t know we exist and it never cared. – Albert Camus

I am not convinced I’m not already in… hell.

What i'm listening to:

Wasted Time
Skid Row
Slave to the Grind