The goal is to sit in this chair.

That’s the goal. There’s nothing else to think about. There is only you, and you are in the chair. There aren’t any words. There aren’t any thoughts. It’s just you in the chair.

But also your arms, and your feet are pressed against the chair. A fact you are aware of suddenly. But this is a mistake, because you are thinking. It’s just you in a chair.

There aren’t any tasks to do. It’s because you’re in the chair. While you’re in the chair, you’re there. You may think your purpose is then to be in a continuous state of listening. But you thought wrong — there is not a purpose. There’s only a chair. And you’re sitting in it.

And while you’re in the chair, you feel good; it feels good to be in the chair. But it also feels bad to be in the chair. You can’t tell for sure, because all you really know is that there’s a chair, and that you’re in it.

You think you have eyes because they’re in your head and your head is on your body, and your body is in a chair? No, you’re not looking at anything. You’re in a chair. It might be the only chair in the universe, or one of other infinite chairs you think exist somewhere. But thinking doesn’t prove anything except that you’re in a chair.

You don’t feel lost in a chair. It’s not wonderful either. But there’s a chair that you’re in. It doesn’t even matter, while it’s the only other thing that matters. Besides yourself, which is sitting in a chair.

You can call it “the” chair. But by calling it so you’re unaware of the goal, which is to sit, and sit in this chair. So suppose you exist; insofar as you do, your only thought is you in the chair, and your only action is inaction.

Breathe in, and breath out — the sweet suckle of air wafting from oblivion, into existence! an inexpense, an exceptionalism! Truly sweet, but certainly polluted. Certainly a joy, but uncertainly a villain. An operator, much like me, but alas it is not me, it does not exist. In fact, I don’t exist. Because the goal is to sit in the chair. And that’s what I’m doing.

The goal is to sit in the chair. The goal is to sit in the chair. The goal is to sit in the chair. The goal is to sit in the chair. The goal is to sit in the chair…

I have sat in the chair. It was at no one’s expense but my own. It was my pleasureful burden, a beautiful time. And also my current situation. If other goals existed in some fantastic reality blooming all around me, circling me salaciously with sinister longing, I wouldn’t know.

Because the goal is to remain in the chair. It is not to love, to dream, to search, to find, and it isn’t meant to be followed or ruled over or controlled. It’s just, well, the goal. A goal that meets its reflection at all times and in always.

And the chair, well, the chair is just the chair. Existence is just existence, and your existence is present alongside the goal. The goal is not to get up from the chair, or to stay in it. It’s just to sit in the chair. That’s all. It’ll be the goal now and it’ll be the goal again. The goal is to sit in the chair. In fact, the goal is to sit in this chair. Not that there are any other chairs.

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