The Place You’ve Always Wanted To Go

The words do not exist to describe it. Why, then, will I proceed in vain?

The most honest answer I can give is that I don’t know.

It is the place I believe I have heard others talk and write about. A common disclaimer prepends these discussions: “This place/thing cannot be ‘understood.’ It involves permanent transformation. You see the world through different eyes. Everything changes.”

Hearing these things, you can’t help but long for it. You can’t help but long for the feeling: Bliss, equanimity, freedom — whatever you want to call it. It is, effectively, total control of the mind.

You can’t help but doubt the existence of such a thing when, despite your toiling, the peace never comes. On some occasions, perhaps you thought you found it; alas, you didn’t. Because the ‘peace’ was only short-lived — not the permanent state you hoped for.

As it continues to elude you, you can’t help but scorn at those you have heard talk about it. You become skeptical; you become suspicious. You feel this way because you think they must be lying, or, in any case, they can’t seem to take you to this place you want to go.

I may look back at my life, my writings, and my actions and think: Arriving at this place was inevitable. I never accepted things. I never ‘let things go.’ I would search endlessly. My thoughts and life often appear odd to others.

But the most honest thought I can give was the one mentioned at the beginning: I don’t know. I don’t know how it came. I don’t know why, after so many years, it came only now.

The cessation of the search. The end for the longing. The eradication of hope and misery. The extinction of uncertainty.

No more anticipation. No more fear. No more envy. No more anything.

Freedom.

In this world, nothing lasts. Everything begins dissolving the moment you think about it. This is the nature of thought. Your entire life is spent with an outreached hand: You look to anything and everything. You look for ‘meaning,’ ‘happiness,’ ‘gratitude,’ and anything to cling to.

Moment after moment. Day after day. Year after year. It. Just. Never. Stops.

I suppose the place I talk about arriving at is one where this realisation fuses with your DNA. You embody it: The realisation that nothing works and nothing lasts — and that it will always be this way.

And so, the struggle winds down. All conflict — all ‘negative feelings’ — simply leave on their own.

And of course they do. Why would they not? Of what use is struggle, turmoil, or conflict when you understand this is all there is? That it is always going to be like this — that every day is the same.

You simply stop struggling. This is not to imply you have ‘given up’ in the sense you believe your life is not worth living or that that you should still in a room utill you die. Indeed, things will still happen in your life, and you may still do things, but no longer is anything a struggle.

In your life, every thought, action, feeling, and experience, is a vortex that sucks you in. You whirl around in a chasm of emotions: Pain, pleasure, anixiety, approval, success, failure, or whatever. And, after a while, you’re spat back out.

And then the next vortex captures you. And again.

And again.

What is equanminity? What is total peace? It is becoming an immovable object. An object that no vortex can suck.

Nothing lasts. Everything in this life impermanent. However, what I talk of now is the exception. The feeling of peace is one of unedeniable permanence. In the face of all stimuli, thoughts, and actions it appears. It’s always there, and whatever happens, I am simply reminded of its existence. Whenever I feel as though something is sucking me in, I return.

Such a mechanism may not appear unique. Indeed, when things go awry, don’t people look to some safe haven? Don’t they turn to some philisophy, guru, meditative practice, or the bottle? Is the peace I talk about just another coping mechanism?

No. To cope is to hope. Coping mechanisms such as those mentioned above rely on hope that things will change or you will get better at dealing with things. It is hope for a better, or at least different, tomorrow.

Peace is arriving at the realisation that tomorrow won’t be different. Moreover, there is no desire for tomorrow to be different, nor is there a desire to change anything.

I can sense the question itching at the tip of your tongue:

So… what’s next? What’s the ‘practical’ takeaway? How do you proceed going forward?

You’ll be forgiven for asking such a question. Indeed, this is the framework of thought that emanates from all the voices you’ve ever heard. You are told to chant certain mantras; to meditate; to sit in silence; to keep a journal; to be kind; to give back; to focus on health; to focus on family. You are told to do this, that, and everything.

And, then what? Then, when problems continue to exist in your life, you continue running on the hamster wheel. Perhaps you feel like you made some progress, perhaps you feel as though things are — and will continue to — change and improve.

You either know progress of this sort is nonsense, or you don’t. Me saying such thing is false won’t (and shouldn’t) sway you.

All the self-help books, gurus, teachers, and philosophies will give you a ‘next step.’ Even if you arrive at the ‘promised land’ a ‘next step’ is always in place.

So, now you ask me: “What’s next? What’s the implication of arriving at the peace and equanimity I talk about?”

You ask such a question because you have not really understood anything I have said.

To your question of “what’s next” I answer “so what.” You can arrive at the place I talk about and do anything. You may write a book; become a recluse; build a company; start a family; or do anything.

So what? So what if you do any of these things?

It changes nothing. Tomorrow will be exactly the same. But you don’t understand this; indeed, this is why you asked “what’s next” in the first place.

What I talk of is a feeling of permanence. A feeling that anything and everything may happen, but my internal state remains.

Unchanged. Permanent. Equanimous.

Tomorrow — in fact right now, I could die without any reservations. Without any qualms. Without any upset. Without any regrets. Without any unmet desires or goals.

Because I found it. I found there was nothing to find.

Let the remaining years of my life come as they may.

Nothing needs to change — and what does change — doesn't matter.