This Is Paradise.

Look no further. This is paradise. The wonder of it cannot be improved upon. There is such freedom in seeing there is no one, that we're all just flickering characters on the big Projector of Life or Divine Puppets or whatever inadequate analogy we're using today. What seems to happen, so fraught with meaning, so involving and distracting and important, is mere appearance, and we have no more choice or control than the flickering characters in the film or those puppeteer-less puppets. The dreamer who dreams of being a person with choices and free will will balk at this. If nothing matters, what's to stop me going on a killing spree? Or cheating on my wife? If nothing matters, then what's to stop me starting a war or going postal in my local Spar? It's probably unlikely. If the character you seem to be is not already an adulterous war-mongering psychopathic murderer, it's unlikely that such apparent behaviour will come up. When this is seen, the character is celebrated, in all its flawed, neurotic, good-hearted, half-baked, sometimes flourishing, sometimes wilting, glorious multifarious humanity. It is all such a perfect fit, it could not be more suitable, more loved or treasured, the character that you are. Treasured and loved by all, because it is all. Relax, and stop looking. This is it.