Project Management IV

I feel like I'm in Vietnam. All high and in a war.

I am neither. Only it feels so. The matter is highly confused, and so insistent upon me that its persistence becomes the one thing I can make stick. Its enduring character I can count on. All else seems only dressed up restatement. What this matter is remains inaccessible. Is it the fact of living, breathing, and being? Is it the awareness of dissatisfaction? Is it the problem of language itself? Every day, so far, I wake up to this eternal Vietnam. To assert more than this seems a lie.

There is no advance - no border, indeed, upon which to move. It is distinctions that make borders, but is it any use to proceed upon knowing that there is being and not-being if the existence of the latter is a mere supposition? In what direction is the first step? Were I to encounter my predicament at spaced-out and contained intervals, I might yet have some hope of comprehension. If only to be able to distinguish among kinds of experiences. I am supposing here that distraction may be valuable. Attention and not-attention. A foothold. Instead, it is all grasping at vapors and ghosts. So what's the harm, then, in re-tracing some steps? Or in taking a rest? I'll wake up all the same to the project again.