You only think you know what’s happening right now, but what is happening is actually completely chaotic, not understandable, and not knowable. What is happening is being co-opted by a separate sense of self that you vaguely construe as being in the apparent vicinity of your body. “It’s my soul,” or “It’s my brain,” or “It’s my body.” What is happening is being continually stitched into a story of “me.”
You think that you have a destiny that you hope is somehow “good,” (or maybe even “bad”) and you believe that you can do something to make that destiny manifest by doing “the right thing.” But in reality, you have zero control over what happens next because you don’t even exist. You are just a concept that keeps trying to prove to itself that it’s real.
“My hand moved, and I did that.” / “I’m worried” / “I fucked up” / “They don’t like me” / “It’s not fair” / “I need to try harder” / “I’m planning for that” / “I planned for this” / “I did a good job” / “I’m smart” / “I’m stupid” / “They’re idiots” — Every single one of these thoughts has absolutely nothing to do with you, or with anyone else, because you don’t exist and neither does anyone else.
All there is is what-is-and-is-not, all there is is what seems to be happening. That’s all there is. Nothing else. It’s exactly as it appears. And it’s absolutely not being recognized for what it is. It’s being mis-characterized as being made up of lots of separate things. It’s absolutely believed that this is one big story about “me” and a separate “everything that’s not me.”
“But look at all the separate things” the separate self says. “There really is a world of separation. It’s not just that the concept of a separate self is an illusion. Separation is real.” No it’s not. Separation is absolutely not real. Separation is the personal self. All the self seems to recognize in the world is separation (which is absolutely false), so it think that it’s not alone in separation. “We’re all together in separation.” It thinks that separation is the reality. It’s impossible for the personal self to conceive of anything else.
“Ah yes, physicists have broken matter down into the smallest parts and found that the underlying nature of reality is nothing.” This is of no help; it’s just another “me” story: me the scientist. The separate self will never, ever recognize wholeness for what it is, even by splitting everything up into the smallest pieces it can.
You have no destiny, because you don’t exist, and there is no future, and there is no plan. Destiny is just another false claim of the personal self. “I have a destiny!” it claims, with great pomp and arrogance. It lives in hope; hope for something “better,” or at least “not worse.” Meanwhile, all there is this, all-that-is-and-is-not, doing nothing, being nothing, going nowhere, needing nothing, wanting nothing. Just this, always.
If you existed, and if there was time, and if there was any kind of plan, then your destiny would be this, which is already this. Destiny is fulfilled!