Down-to-Earth: Just So

It is a solution of no solution.
What if everything is mutually arising and there’s nothing that can be done about any of it?
So then, striving ceases and effortlessness ensues.
But how does that happen?
I think perhaps, nobody knows.
Still we keep searching because that’s what we do, or we can say it’s our nature to search. But then it grows tiresome and we stop for a while, or forget about what we we’re searching for and keep going or move on to something else.
You try to do this
You try to do that
Is it any good?
Or is this just doing?
I’m not sure.

Along with this, there is a sense of deadness, of unreality and a desire to write about it. But what if these too are merely mutually arising?

What is wrong with grasping?
I clasped my left wrist with my right hand and it felt fine, it felt comforting and safe.
If I hold onto this long enough it dissolves into death, into a skeleton, into dust, but so what?
I don’t see any problem here.

So what’s the problem?
I don’t know.

What was the Buddha’s problem?

I don’t know. I wasn’t there, and even if I had been maybe I still would not know.

So then what?

I don’t know. I think finish drinking the coffee and make breakfast and see what develops. . . Or maybe that’s it: that it’s all just about making coffee and breakfast, and so on, and not minding that that’s all it’s about.