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The entire cosmology, all the myths, all the stories, default to this harsh reality. When you die, you don't go to heaven. Your bones are ground to dust in the river of death. You may end up tormented there, as a shade, forever. There is no happy ending.
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So what do you do? You don't overcome or surpass suffering. You simply get on with the day. You persevere, but not out of some mystical attainment - simply because that's the only option in the face of such a hopeless state of affairs.
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And so suffering is a fact of life, yes. It's ugly, yes. But it's not worth obsessing over. You just do you, and do it as well as you can.
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Okay - inserting some basic self-awareness - that's pretty close to how I live my own life, actually. It's also extremely perverse to inflict on others. My life has arguably been made much worse for it.
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Continuing my tipsiness-fuelled confession, I'm the sort of guy who can't let it go when I see someone else suffer. I get obsessive about that shit. That's a demonstrably terrible way to live life. I've not only harmed myself doing that, but often also the people I tried to help
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Not just in Buddhism, but everywhere in life, the people who do the most harm to others are often the self-professed healers - those who believe they can "fix" others. Distancing myself from that identity is a work in progress. It's difficult, but probably worthwhile.
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