As a rule, man functions mechanically in and through the structures and patterns society has imposed on him as true and commendable, and fitting into those he feels to be “alive and kicking,” although — in reality — he’s lived.
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Lived by all he ought to do and ought to be. In fact, man sleeps, sleepwalking thinking to be alive, dreaming, going nowhere really.
But even if man sees that the mold of society limits him, he often knows no way out. He can’t change the patterns through which he functions, because he knows only those patterns, and leaving them behind would only show him a frightening, incomprehensible void.
A sleepwalker rarely wakes up by himself. With routine, almost magically, he takes the stairs, skips a breach, or turns around when facing an abyss, nicely returning to his warm and comfy bed to continue sleeping the sleepwalker’s sleep.
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That what “sleeps” in man is his own, authentic expression of life. That expression can only show itself when his simulated expression comes to an end by tumbling down the stairs, hitting his head against a wall, or falling into the abyss — despite his perfect sleepwalking routine.
To “wake up” then means to get up and see the world with fresh eyes, new eyes. Eyes that want to learn. It’s waking up each day again, every hour, every moment, with this complete wonder, this complete “purposelessness,” being ready to let life enter “our system” and let it show us what it has to offer.
It’s the courage to let go of all patterns that squeeze and limit our lives, and to fully embrace the consequences of living without them. It’s not “having hope,” it’s rather faith and confidence, it’s surrendering unconditionally to a firm, indestructible conviction that that’s what life is all about.
