And, with surprise, I realised something: enjoyment is not the simple substitution of personally meaningful and enriching activities for less pleasant ones. Its very core seems to lie in letting go of structure and purpose altogether, inviting the mind to find its own path. And yet, that moment of emptiness was as surprising to me for its novelty as for its pleasure. Even my approach to meditation is ironically filled with structure and purpose. It is scheduled and timed, involving a special posture, a period of planned, productive time.
This morning as I sat in rebellious glee, I discovered that I have devoted entirely too much time to the pursuit of purpose and woefully little to its lack. In that moment I abandoned entirely all intention, allowing my mind to wander freely. I opened myself to the illicit, wanton pleasure of true purposelessness and discovered a sweet anarchy of the soul in which imagination flowered.
The tracks flew beneath me, but I had already arrived.