“Just be grateful for what you have.

Look around and realize that there are many people in the world who are way worse off.

You have so much, there is SO much abundance, so just let that sink in…”

Ugh.

Whatever.

Just meditate.

Just eat healthy stuff.

Just help other people.

Just smile more.

Just count your blessings.

Just journal.

Just dance like nobody’s watching.

Just do yoga.

Just take a cold shower.

Just build a vision board.

Just breathe right.

Just go to Bali.

Just listen to music you like.

Just sleep well.

Just get up really early.

Just read a Rumi poem.

Just quit masturbating.

Just create a moment for yourself.

Just take one step at a time…

Oh, man.

The list goes on and on, around the corner, into the distance.

And the urge to do and change never goes away, not sustainably, even after we make things happen.

Hundreds of things will still not be enough.

There is always new restlessness.

New thirst, new hunger, new desire.

There is always new stuff that has to be attained and collected.

New stars to aim and reach for.

This endless search for the next thing is what keeps us going.

This torturous parade of promises that will never be fulfilled, nor fulfilling.

It’s undoable, literally.

As if there’s a collection of stuff that is ultimately satisfying, that will take away the bloody itch, for good.

There will never be a moment in time where everything you want is finally there, where everything you dreamed of is in your possession, where everything is exactly the way you wanted and envisioned it in exactly the right amount, so you can stay in that exact situation… for the rest of your life?

Restlessness is the mind’s weapon of choice.

It’s insatiable.

The feeling of not doing enough, created by the thoughts that tell you so.

The feeling of not pushing yourself enough, of squeezing life enough.

The fear of letting stuff unreached and unattained and unowned.

Rich people only want to get richer, because the desire for more just keeps on growing relentlessly, and the fear of losing everything becomes even bigger.

This is the game we unknowingly play.

The drive that keeps us going comes in many different flavors, like discomfort, agony, boredom, jealousy, restlessness, or regret.

And we fucking know it.

Somewhere, somehow, we know about the things we once desperately wanted but quickly lost their power once they were finally there.

We KNOW, but we also keep on going.

We have to.

The motor behind the endless striving is the restlessness itself.

The discomfort, the nervousness, the lack: they turn out to be the argument to keep pushing and grinding.

We don’t really go for the end result, we go because we can’t stay here, now.

We HAVE to work towards bigger and better.

Not because of what it will bring us, but because we can’t stand NOT doing it.

The itch is the problem, and scratching it will only make it worse.

And we know that.

We just can’t help ourselves.

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(Photo by @essentialprints, for Unsplash)