I freeze up when I hit it. There’s nothing I hate more than the public road to achievement. The expectations that line up like miserable mutilations of life. Because they have succeeded in fooling some that ambition matters. That things, other than real things, could matter. Which of course they can’t. The real things like life, death, food, housing, compassion, … are absolute to us while we are alive. Ambition is your pretext to justify egoism and hedonism. And while I love exploring, enjoying and developing my senses, there is no point in glorifying them at the cost of others. Mistakes: yes, ruthless ambitions: no.
My disdain for objectives and milestones is inflexibly exaggerated, beyond any realism. I carry it in front of me like a doctrine. Strutting like a peacock. Wielding my contempt like an axe. (It has become the perfectly accepted excuse for my ongoing mediocrity, which almost feels like a Zen practice. But I’ll tell you about that some other time.) Ambition is on the cutting board today. You can’t trick me into believing that ambition is the equivalent of purpose. You can fool only yourself on that one. Your position on the ladder means absolutely squat shit and once you really close in on the end, you will feel it, with remorse scraping your ego to the bare minimum of, oh yeah, nothing. There is no substance to ego. It peels off into oblivion. It leaves no trace or legacy. Nothing.
What is left is the set of excuses you have conjured up all these years, as not to confront your self. I have long ago let go of this. I totally stopped caring about where you think you are headed. It looks like a wearisome sitcom. A farce at times, but always dramatic.
My disdain for objectives and milestones is inflexibly exaggerated, beyond any realism. I carry it in front of me like a doctrine. Strutting like a peacock. Wielding my contempt like an axe. (It has become the perfectly accepted excuse for my ongoing mediocrity, which almost feels like a Zen practice. But I’ll tell you about that some other time.) Ambition is on the cutting board today. You can’t trick me into believing that ambition is the equivalent of purpose. You can fool only yourself on that one. Your position on the ladder means absolutely squat shit and once you really close in on the end, you will feel it, with remorse scraping your ego to the bare minimum of, oh yeah, nothing. There is no substance to ego. It peels off into oblivion. It leaves no trace or legacy. Nothing.
What is left is the set of excuses you have conjured up all these years, as not to confront your self. I have long ago let go of this. I totally stopped caring about where you think you are headed. It looks like a wearisome sitcom. A farce at times, but always dramatic.