Life. (don't be concerned)

 Life for me has always been suffering interlaced with temporary moments of happiness.

If I think back to all the mental states I know, much more of them have been spent in lack. In waiting.

Waiting for life to happen to me. A nagging sensation that this is not what my life is supposed to be like. And that possibly, somewhere out there, there is a version of me who is living the best life I could be living. His life is not mine though, yet I constantly use him as an excuse, to devalue my own experience.

My friendships are empty, my relationships are empty. Every thought is plagued by the promise of a 'what if(?)' or an 'if only'

There have been certain moments that surpass the dissatisfaction inherent in every waking experience. I have felt in those moments that I am underneath the flow of life as it passes over me and refreshes me.

I have experienced it in badminton; The absolute, unwavering concentration that carries within it the plethora of expressions and emotions constituting perfect presence. Perfect responsibility, Perfect Humility, Perfect Gratitude Towards the opponent coupled with a non-acknowledgement of their very existence, much too absorbed in perfecting my own art.

I have experienced these emotions in music. Sliding and dancing below the rhythm of a song I have practiced to the point that it becomes involuntary. The body's innate intelligence shifts its perception in that moment of performance to inspiring the audience. The show must go on and the performer must have the most intense potpourri of emotions yet each hit of the drum must be with perfect pressure, cadence, accent, dynamics. My body must become a conduit for creativity itself.

In math and philosophy I see these as I get under the truth. The desperate urge to understand breaks a barrier and leads to a cognitive success of unprecedented degree. I can understand something I should not have been able to. The feeling of competence coming from practicing these methods subconsciously as the working of my mind itself in these areas becomes more efficient is also close to these feelings however it is different. 

I see an escape also in the desperation of my body. What takes me to the gym often is not enjoyment but desperation. In my body's desperation to have the ability to express itself, where I sometimes push myself to the point of feeling like I need to puke, or having an empty head or totally going away for a few minutes as something else takes over I also see that feeling.

Does life get easier? Are people really having fun in life? For me it has always been a struggle and it continues to be. But as cliche as it sounds, One must imaging sissyphus happy.