There is a season for learning and a season to realize you know enough.
I recently came across Jordan Peterson and swiftly realized that for me at least it was another day, another guru.
I seem to have reached a period of deep contentment and I really have no need of any more grand theories of everything. Nor do I wish to be told how to run my life.
There is a whole long list of things I don’t need. And things I don’t need to know. There is much that I would like to know but in my already long life, I have come to realize that I will never know such things. Perhaps because they are unknowable.
So contentment is walking along a sunlit beach on the scruffy coast of East Kent. Contentment is not giving a damn what you look like or what you possess. Listening to psalms or to the divine music of a 16th Century catholic priest.
Contentment is doing simple things, in simple ways. Bumbling along growing “stuff” in a garden.
Hearing the unearthly squeal of buzzards overhead, watching a cormorant dive or a seal pop its head above the water.
The honest truth is that deep down I have never much cared for anything except such simplicity, such quiet and profound moments of peace as are to be found minding one’s own business and trundling along life’s path.
I was gently accused of nihilism in my last post but I am guilty of the desire not to destroy or to negate but simply to ignore.
There is not much I am fussed about, that is all. I don’t care what the busy fools in parliament are saying and I certainly don’t care about anyone or anything one might find discussed in the Financial Times.
Strange to relate I am more interested in catching glimpses of the ineffable than filling my mind with another’s thoughts or worrying about the state of the nation.
To every thing there is a season.