Just do it. Go to Alaska, Canada, or Mongolia if you want. Anywhere will do. Find yourself the most isolated place possible, build a cabin with your own hands. Live off the land. The wilderness of the landscape matching the wilderness of your spirit. Freedom. Breathe it. Know it. Prove to yourself how easy it is. There are no ifs or buts. No geologist poseurs telling you what’s been done before. Everything’s been done before, for a multitude of reasons.
What heights and depths of the spirit have they investigated? Across time, before time, after time, all time at once, all states at once, in love, in hatred, ex nihilo, ab aeterno? Service, righteousness, virtue, so-called heresy, aseity, nonaseity, avijja, bhava, vijja, dharma, in solitude, in unity? You will find a home, or you will come back stronger.
They attempt to deal with the sound of the fury through conventional means. Prayer that contradicts. Dreams and nightmares. Whispers to the wind. Thought experiments. Shuffling papers. Drugs and alcohol. Socialization without purpose. We take it now, and iron it out with stream of consciousness awareness, diverted into the gushing river of Nidhana sprung from the mouth of life.
What burden it is to exist and step where no one dares. To know, feel, act, will, desire, prohibit, inhibit. Warfare enacts change quicker, and to greater effect. Our ancestors knew this, and had more courage than us one hundred fold to take to horse and conquer what needed to be conquered. We should not feel damned that they left us a world that desires peace but cannot attain it. They fought our battles for us, and sired heirs who after war sued for peace on the terms of victory.
Realize the wars are not done. Wealth is supposed to keep the atrocities isolated to where they are. The mountain and desert lands to the East. Where they’ve always been. Europe is in slow collapse like everywhere else, but who knows, a shift here and there, and the seeds of warfare will be sown. How much wealth will protect you from sheer numbers? You play with numbers like they’re toys, but there are real people on the other end. These are hungry and sick of your greed, and when they rise up, what will you do?
You fear death, and at night you work out the impressions of daytime bureaucratic, technocratic stupidity in dream form to fend off the mere thought thereof. They are closer to death, and we sit next to it, in peace, when we please, next to the Buddhists, if we please. The disaffected have been subjected to your lazy, inert peace with suffering and bloodshed. They fear nothing.
Break free, first. Know what it is to find peace in the wild, and in the heart. The trees and lakes are you, too. Simplicity, cleanliness, athleticism. Hunger, desire, passion. Purpose, drive, will. Freedom. Nothing can stop you in this state. But no, you will put on that suit and tie. Those shoes. That hair product. Maybe you will talk to that girl today, maybe you won’t. Maybe your friends will finally get a clue. Or not. Maybe your wife will seem lovable again, maybe she won’t. Maybe you should grow a pair, and care about something other than yourself, the whole that serves you if you serve it.
Those who are truly alive will do something to change themselves. The wars are coming, and if somehow a well placed missile saves you, what will prepare you for the spiritual wars? Wars that won’t ask for your consent in receiving them, and when you receive them, you will realize they have been upon you since birth. Reductionism is pointless, and running from war is a false peace that does not last.