What had happened was this. When still quite young, I had gotten the idea from somewhere that I might be able to write. Maybe the deadly notion came from feeling so lost in the world that was presented to me, and wanting to create my own. Maybe I was in love with the image of being a writer - a fetishised decadence of a life full of pitfalls and ascents. Whatever the case, I have found recently that it had all been a really bad idea. Because, as a matter a fact, I'm not really a good story teller. My tales always seem to run in circles, with repeating patterns, mistakes and decisions. Quite boring actually. Surely missing a grand twist of some kind.
I have come to find, that there are only two symptoms of enlightenment, just two indications that a transformation is taking place within me towards a higher consciousness. The first symptom is that I stop worrying. Things don't bother me as much anymore. I become light-hearted and full of joy. Or at least something similar to it. The second symptom is that I encounter more and more meaningful coincidences in my life, more and more synchronicities. And this accelerates to the point where I actually get to experience the miraculous. Even in something as frivolous as your smile.
