These two words are the epitaph of the poet Charles Bukowski (1920-1994). He lived a hard life and struggled but came to a certain understanding within himself.
He played a role (and knew it). A few different ones in his lifetime. We all do.
I admire him for his ability to see the world. And despite his hard ways there was a gentleness inside of him that he let come out.
There is a power when we let go of the struggle and trying to uphold the bullshit of our lives. Not just the stress and roles but carrying around anything and everything that is not us.
Letting go is simplicity itself. Easy, no. It will be the hardest thing you ever achieve.
Embrace the inner sight of the poet in you and see through the illusions of the world. The illusions you have created for yourself.
And the next time you sip a beer, give a nod to C.B. No wiser words were ever written then the two etched on his gravestone.