The world doesn’t make any sense.
The story I was most attached to all my life was the story that the world should be different. World and humans should be more just, more loving, more peaceful, more respectful.
The way the world is, full of wars, conflicts, mass species extinction, mass torturing of farm animals, destruction of ecosystems, was always so unacceptable to me that I needed a story to be my raft not to drown in the dark deep sea of despair.
I am a small girl. The way the world is full of suffering is unacceptable to me. I cannot deal with it. I pray often in tears to a non-defined God, to take my life and alleviate other Beings' suffering. God has other plans for me.
The way the world is, where my classmates are blowing the frogs to death and torturing insects, where someone cuts the trees along the road that descends the mountain from my house on a way to school, the trees that wanted to live. Boys humiliating me because I am wearing red socks, and an acute pain of incomprehension and rejection.
I still remember the grave of a frog I accidentally caused death to, but creating a beautiful pond for her she could not get out from. I mourned her for years.
I could not possibly cope with all the big and small suffering in the world. The story that there is something wrong with the world was my life-raft.
Not accepting the way the world is, the cruelty, the death, the suffering was my Grand Defense.
Yesterday it crashed. In a guided process about my romantic relating, I realised the world doesn't have any meaning whatsoever. Nothing makes sense. There is nothing to hold on to. Huge sadness and fear washed over me over and over again.
And yet there was peacefulness, there was emptiness, there was a pure sensation of Being with no story attached, pure Presence. There was a relieving and soothing Sadness of Acceptance.
The world doesn’t make any sense.
The world doesn’t make any sense.
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"And don’t forget that nothing makes sense, everything changes and that love and company can come from the most unexpected places."
Excerpt of Amanda Palmer's letter published on social media, March 2024
