How do we begin to move from a place when our compass fails us? When the needle of our life’s direction refuses to yield a steady aim, what then? The mindless is without the mind. The easy answers is: something. Do something. Anything until you know a more specific something. Do that.
Really though? That’s our answer? I’d rather wake up. I’d rather return to the certainties that seek quantities of my something. That is where my joy lives. Still too often my hands hold stones. They forget their work, and without knowing, stones take up residence where tools once inhabited. Bugga. Set down these stones. Do not cast them. Do not allow their weight to tie in with your mind, or you will drown in the sea of everything.
Let the judgements rest and be settled upon the court of the universe. Let, too, our own judgements against us be settled through the court of the universe. Where does that good journey wait for me then? I should be off to do something until again I know it.