Today I rest in the absolute certain knowledge that I’m completely failing at spirituality, I can’t do it, I’m a big, fat, loafing, dossing, idiotic clown of a useless spiritual failure. I’m completely useless at this shit, i really can’t do it. I tell you what, I bet even Homer Simpson is more enlightened than me, in fact I bet even the warts on Homer’s big fat yellow ass are more awake than me.
I can’t tell you how much relief the above statement brings, I can’t get it right no matter how much I try, I’m sick to my core of trying to get things right. I’m sick of striving, of doing, of becoming, of fighting and of thinking there’s something wrong in me that needs to be fixed. I’m sick of trying to be perfect, to try and get the quest ‘just so’.
This realisation came to me this morning whilst being in silence. It seems the answers are there if I go into it. Tears came up, tears of relief.
So, today I’m failure guy, completely fucking useless, no good at spirituality, shit at meditation. Sheilds down God, you’re well and truly kicking my arse around the ring.