I last updated my blog more than two years ago, when I was searching for work (I found it just a few months later).

Just previous to that post, even more into past, I had renewed my enthusiasm for blogging and I was setting out to find the right way to live. I had a vague idea of what I was going to write next on my blog, but I was never happy with what I was able to put down or even just construct in my mind – it was always incomplete or dubious, so I always postponed.

The fact that the front page of my blog says that I am looking for work is terribly unfair towards my current employer.

But to me, it is more than that. Staring right at me from the fact that it is so old, is the conclusion that I had been so unwilling to make.

There is no definite answer, it’s just a journey.

This realization has been one of the most difficult ones to accept for me. That fact might toss me into hopelessness – what reason is there to go on at all, if there is no destination to reach to? But then, it may pull me up into highest hopes – I can continue to enjoy this journey as long as I live, and get ever better, isn’t the next “better” something to look forward to? More specifically, what point is there to write about it if it’s never a final answer and may easily be wrong? But then again, isn’t it better to give at least one answer, be wrong and then, leaning on that, find a better one?

I still struggle with this controversy. Maybe nobody can understand that if they haven’t gone through that journey, haven’t come to realization by themselves? Maybe it can only be felt in mystic moments of enlightenment? Isn’t that what wise men since ages old have been trying to tell us?

And then I sometimes think that I am just a storyteller. I like to write stories about this exciting real life I have actually had.

I remember, once I had clarity, and it came to me in the most unlikely moment of all.

I was in a bus stop with my son, waiting for our ride home. A woman approached me, offering to introduce God into my life. I politely declined a conversation on this issue as I am an atheist who doesn’t enjoy arguing. She wasn’t so easily deterred. 

“I see that you have a son, don’t you want to be with him after you die?”

And then it struck me: “I don’t need any god for that.”

The woman was confused beyond what I have seen others of her kind to be in similar situation, but that didn’t bother me. She left me alone, yet in my mind I experienced something amazing. 

My thoughts connected in a new way. I would be living on in my son in form of DNA that I once gave him, as well as all the experiences I have had with him. And furthermore, I will live on with the world, the universe and whatever else is out there as consequences of my actions, as diluted as they are in the enormous amount of other causes and effects. I will even live on with this woman as this confusing experience in that bus stop. I will always be grateful to her for offering connection with her God, and thus helping me find connection to myself in that moment.

I have written before how I believe everything to be interconnected by cause and effect. I have even written a crude poem about it and named my blog after that. Yet I only experience it fully in rare moments. Yet when I do, it all makes sense and I find a renewed enthusiasm for putting effort into causing the best effects with my life that I possibly could.

There is a lesson in that. I won’t promise to write more frequently in my blog, I’ve seen that I can’t trust such promises given in enthusiastic moments. I really want to, at that moment. I do my best decisions on whim (unless it has something to do with money or men) and I write my best blog posts at 4AM when I have exhausted all my routines of falling asleep without any success. We’ll see if whim and insomnia, or at least one of those, makes me write all those other things I’ve been thinking of writing all that time. I don’t promise anything.