It can sometimes be taxing, and often it's just plain mysterious. Life is like a mystery wrapped inside an enigma. When I think I have it in grasp it seems to slip through my fingers like mercury. I sit on my deck after midnight, and gaze at the stars, thinking to myself "moments like this are to be cherished. Quiet moments looking at star patterns, and watching the moonrise." But then I always have to re-enter society and play by their rules. At 50 years of age it has become quite tiresome dealing with the stupidity of American society. I just can't bothered to get up in arms about the madness anymore (Rupert Murdoch anyone?)
So, I'll get through this day, and will most likely finish my book on reality this evening. After finishing A Beginner's Guide to Reality, I'm sure that I'll find that I'm no closer to an answer than I was before. Reading about the underyling structure to this thing called life just allows me to view life with a little more distance, and hence doesn't drag me down emotionally like it used to. It's lonely existence though, searching for truth and doubting what anyone presents to me as their version of truth. I'm not about to believe falsehoods, just because a charismatic leader spins a good morality tale. I'd rather go through life a little sadder, knowing that it's all just chance and probibility, and no one is watching over us to ensure our safety.