What to do next?
After what, you’ll say. After what, indeed. In the After. The one that followed the Flood, something like that. The one that doesn't make sense, or doesn't make sense anymore. Meaning is something for everyone, even if it's just fragments. If it were everywhere, it would be obvious. But it's there nonetheless. At least, its promise, its shadow, or its illusion —however you want to put it—but its reflection shimmers somewhere for everyone. In the lottery ticket, in religion, in their mistress, in MMORPGs, in H&M, in those upcoming holidays, in that boat, that car, that dog, that new kitchen paint, in that book, in that refreshing encounter, in that career change project. And what if suddenly meaning is no longer found anywhere?
Then everything collapses. Because playing the lottery, fucking, playing, changing things, leaving, all that loses its value. It's nothing but a little spin around oneself. On a tiny circle. We think we've taken a turn, but it brings us back to the same point. And worse: we think time has moved on, that we're making progress, that we're moving forward… But that point, it's Time. Because a circle that thinks it's moving forward is a spiral. Seen from above, it’s a point. Motionless.
So, with desire and enthusiasm gone, what's left?
Huh?
What?
What's left is the After. It's kind of the story of rebirth, that very one from Jesus and the Buddhists. You kill your old self and you bare reborn, all fresh and new, all meditated. At least, that's what the self-help books predict. But what does the Bardo Thödol prepare us for, actually?
You're dead, okay. Dying is easy. Continuing after being dead is something else. What do you do? There's this guy who said, "Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water; after enlightenment, chop wood and carry water." Smart guy. The problem is, before, I chopped wood with the joy of a nice fire to come and carried water to quench my thirst. Now, I'm no longer cold and I'm no longer thirsty. So, do I have to pretend?
I think that's all there is to do, actually. Pretend. It doesn't change anything for the others who look at you; they don't see anything, and if you tell them something has changed, they find you cute with your little depression. No one will ever know that you're dead. That doesn't matter. Unless you have a spiritual weave that interconnects you with the idea of an idealized After, something nirvanic, prophetic… Or psychotic. But if you have nothing, because you listened well, watched well, and understood well that there is Nothing, what do you do?
Pretend, yes. Same as before, but less fun, then.
There must be something to do, damn it! Take care of others? Be humble and give yourself? Watch them suffer as they spin endlessly on their little circle?
Wait for The End, the real one? Hoping there is one; otherwise, it's a big scam.
Anyway, I experienced ego death in 2020. It's a kind of journey that takes you above everything, and I mean Everything, where you see above the theater lights and behind the stage. But what you see it’s there's nothing, nothing makes sense, everything is false, the absurd is actually everywhere. At first, it's very calm and contemplative. People say they experience that with psychedelics, for a night. Well, yeah. There are two ways to experience it, I think. There's the way of considering it can be real, which is already a lot because it destroys everything you knew. But it stays in the brain. Then there's the way of actually going there. The thing is, I stayed there not just for a few hours of a psychedelic trip (by the way, I didn't take any drugs for going there), I stayed there for months. Months. And if I came back down to the land of humans, it's because after a while, I decided I had to interact with this world. To see if maybe… it would pass. That's a good one!
I've never really come back down; a part of me is still up there. I had to put on a spacesuit to come see you.
Actually, I don't think it's possible to come back. Once you've seen the magic trick, you can't see it as magical anymore.
So, what am I, a living-dead? Zombies never seem very cheerful. Do I share my knowledge? Do I have to become a prophet or a shaman? Do I act like nothing happened and chop wood and carry water for others? A vampire can very well make spaghetti and clean mirrors, even if he doesn't need to.
Since the ego is gone, why not release everything into nature and stop trying to gather the crumbs into a disguise? I don't know.
If someone knows, I'm listening.














