Where do you start when there is no beginning?

I have been listening recently to the Tim Ferris Podcast, and that, at the same time as the Brexit has left me in free-fall.

I tried writing about this earlier, but caught-up in Tim’s talk about Stoics, Greek Philosophers and exercise, I was struggling.

Those of you who have listened to the podcast will know what I am talking about, for everyone else, suffice it to say, I am in a funk.

I wouldn’t go as far as saying I am depressed about the future, more, in a state of anaesthesia – the events have been so dramatic that the shockwaves are still reverberating.

Picture the dentist extracting one of your teeth, lying there, vulnerable, in the faux-leather, mouth agape, lidocaine numbing your nerves and a drill buzzing away at your enamel. Imagine, your eyes meeting.

What of tomorrow?

The sun will rise, the clouds will pass and I will go to work… Not quite Hakuna Matata, but you get the idea.

And, it is strange, during these days – the white summer nights, when there is plenty of time to think, to watch the leaves in the trees, and, consider the industry that must have taken place underneath of all of this, hidden, masked by inadequacy and hubris.

Perhaps it is this silliness that is part of the journey we must take towards gaining a better understanding of our place in the universe; perhaps, we need to be really, very, perverse, before we can understand how things really are – like unhappiness, which acts as a means to the end of appreciating our joy.

And yet, it does make one feel very alone, very isolated, inside the emptiness of ourselves, resonating with hollowness, dull, lead-pipe.

Shouts in the darkness;

For whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee, and thee and, thee.

We have silenced the bell; stilled the light as it seeks a path through life.

Stop.

Enough; Genug.