Wednesday, August 09, 2006

The Meaning of Life

Diary of a Traveling Man Revisited (Sep. 1991).

After a brief return to a mundane life that almost drained me dry, brought me lower than I had been in a long time, I returned to my travels, my life as a Nomad. I traveled through Europe for months during that critical time of my life, and I came alive again, felt life return to me out there in the world, as I practically lived on the European railways. Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, The Netherlands, Gothenburg, Copenhagen, Berlin, and a moody old castle turned inexpensive hotel outside Bonn, until I arrived in, until I returned to one of the cities of my dreams.

I walked through the exciting Amsterdam streets a hot autumn night, through a new and strange world brimming with Life and Shadow, and I had an epiphany far more worthy than any religious text. This is basically what I wrote (in my paper notebook):

«Everything you do is ultimately meaningless. There is no meaning to anything, anything at all. The only meaning is that there is no meaning... It’s when you realize this, you see the meaning of everything, and it’s good...»

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