Just being

It struck me this morning while I was walking along the sea, looking at flowers turning their petals towards the sun. There is nothing else in life but just being. As in existing. Everything else is entertainment. Work, money, passions, travel, power, hate, reading, playing, even falling in love. Just a smoke screen to distract us from the raw truth. Nothing new here, I probably read about it before, heard wise people explain it. But until now, it had remained an abstract idea. Now what do I do with this? There is a rift between realizing this and inhabiting it. How can one even live this? What I know is that as long as I don’t, I won’t be settled. I’ll keep searching for something that does not exist.