Wanting to quit

Wanting to quit. Interesting feeling. Not wanting to die. Not wanting to quit life. Not wanting to quit existing. Just quit. No quit what. No when. No why. Just quit. Nothing else. Just quit.

But what does that mean, to me, at least? I don't know. It's not quit living, that's not the thought, the feeling or the emotion. Not resignation, defeat, leaving, going, whatever else. Just the simple word. Quit.

It's the feeling. To sit down and just let life go by. It's the feeling. To sit there with a blank mind looking out with no thought, feeling or emotion. Just sitting.

To get up and walk, just walk, and keeping walking, nowhere, just going one foot at a time somewhere except here. To hope it never ends and I never tire.

To stand up and let life just drain from me, onto the floor. To feel empty, totally empty, nothing. To sit in the pre-dawn darkness and hope the sun never rises, to feel the darkness surround and enveloe me, and dissolve into it.

To stand surrounded by the light with the edge of the sun just below the horizon spreading all around. To feel the cold just before the first rays hits my face. To feel the light and warmth of the first rays of the sun. To feel the light just go through me forever. To feel the cold of the morning slowly slip away with the darkness.

To stand in the forest during a rainstorm. To feel the rain fall. Constant, never ceasing, never letting, just falling. To feel it on and around me. The sound against me. The smell. The feel. To disappear in it and into it. Into everything else. Nothing else, just rain.

To stand in a snowstorm surrounded by white. Everywhere. To feel the blizzard, the snow swirling all around finding me, to settle on me, and dissappear into the white. To be lost in the white. And the snow.

To stand in the middle of a stream like a boulder, the water flowing over and around me, not knowing anything else. To feel the cold, flowing water wearing me down, slowly. moving me during floods like all the rocks and boulders. To stop anew somewhere, nowhere but still in the stream, like nothing happened.

To stand in desert surrounded by sand. The heat, the wind, and the sand. Nothing else. Just another particle on the wind. To be one of the vastness of openness where all is sand, wind, heat and time. Nothing else.

To sit on the edge of the Grand Canyon, the depth of time below, the vastness of space around, and the sky above. To know time has been, time is and time will always be. And be there for a moment, lost with the rest of everything and lost in time with everything.

To quit being and just be. Nothing more. Just be. No thought, No feeling. No emotion. The spiriting wanting. The soul wondering. The mind empty. The body just there. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just nothing.

To quit. To feel alive.