All, humanity, Personal Mythology, Philosophy, Psychology, Quotations, Real Life Inspiration, Self-Actualizing, Writing, Zen

Real Life Inspiration: Ed Ricketts

I heard an anecdote recently in relation to John Steinbeck (Prayerhand-6god-emoji) guy pal (And total bad ass) Ed Ricketts (Add another prayerhand-6god-emoji).

EFRicketts_42

Ricketts, photo taken aged 43 in 1939.

Ed Ricketts is a man whom I deeply admire. He was, like all the people I admire, a stark individual.

“His mind had no horizons,” as Steinbeck wrote of him, or rather, as “Doc”, the Ricketts inspired beer-loving bohemian science-philosopher who cut himself out of the granite-like sardine-packing population of “whores, pimps, gamblers, and sons of bitches.”

Yeah, Ed Ricketts was a fucking cool guy.

Perhaps one of the coolest who ever lived. Ricketts is most definitely one of my “spiritual grandfathers”. In fact, he inspired another spiritual grandfather of mine: the great mythologist, Joseph Campbell.

Essentially Ed Ricketts = Star Wars.

And if you get that reference, you might actually be kind of cool too.

If you didn’t, hold on tight.

So, the anecdote with Ricketts is that he basically learned how to like himself through others. He got the idea that if other people could like Ed, then Ed could like Ed.

So he did.

And from the myriad legacy he left, we can only surmise that his comfort in his own skin made it very easy for others to like him. And I can surmise this, because I know the opposite to also be true: having experienced how discomfort in one’s skin ultimately manifests itself in ways that strangely serve to push others away.

I actually, as a treat, just found the Ricketts anecdote, which is from perhaps the man who knew best knew Ed: Steinbeck.

The story is quoted verbatim from the philosophy laden ‘The Log of The Sea of Cortez’, Steinbeck’s 1940 month long inward journey with Ed, then aged 44, to the Mexican sea of the same name:

Once Ed said to me, “For a very long time I didn’t like myself.” It was not said in self-pity but simply as an unfortunate fact. “It was a very difficult time,” he said, “and very painful. I did not like myself for a number of reasons, some of them valid and some of them pure fancy. I would hate to have to go back to that. Then gradually,” he said, “I discovered with surprise and pleasure that a number of people did like me. And I thought, if they can like me, why cannot I like myself? Just thinking it did not do it, but slowly I learned to like myself and then it was all right.” This was not said in self-love in its bad connotation but in self-knowledge. He meant literally that he had learned to accept and like the person “Ed” as he liked other people. It gave him a great advantage. Most people do not like themselves at all. They distrust themselves, put on masks and pomposities. They quarrel and boast and pretend and are jealous because they do not like themselves. But mostly they do not even know themselves well enough to form a true liking. They cannot see themselves well enough to form a true liking, and since we automatically fear and dislike strangers, we fear and dislike our stranger-selves.

So, Ed is helping me like myself in the very same way that I can like an admire my friends – only, I get to be less critical of myself now. haha

Sadly, Ed died too young. But he made sure to live before he did. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

You’ve really inspired me Ed.

Thank You.

This past weekend I was up in Monterey (Guest of a girl I have been trying to date), and seeing the life-sized versions of Ed’s lab and some of his things, just really made me feel blessed. I’m just grateful to have found people I can admire and look up to in the ways that they too once looked up to their own little ambitious and upstart part of themselves.

Because I really am. I’m looking up to things that feel true in myself.

And it’s really nice. It’s nice to finally be at home with myself, where there are no horizons.

horizons

“His mind had no horizons.”

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Watch Me

I do not know how I am going to die, but I know I will.

If thirty years of edging towards the horizon of infinity has taught me anything, it’s that figuring out life takes time.

Hell, some [people] never do.

I think of those who are older and quip that they “still feel twenty five” or whatever age seems to captivate their disposition and persona, and I just could never imagine saying such a thing; I feel no more twenty five than I do sixteen.

I’m simply not the same person.

I am thirty year old Lawrence Black, which is really a beautiful thing.

The other thing thirty years of living on earth has taught me is that compassion is a thing of beauty, perhaps the seed of everything else we need to know about life.

And I say this because I look back on the boy who loved like a dog and hurt like one too, and I have compassion for myself. I understand my pain now in ways I never did – in ways I simply never could have before.

But this entry is not meant to be another look back – it’s just that no wise man can look ahead without seeing himself in time, between what was and what will be.

And that’s really what I am writing for right now. What will be.

Because I’ve figured something out.

I’ve come to the conclusion that we all know exactly what we want.

Hmph you say, well, yes, I too spent plenty of time “lost” to a degree – particularly in my mid to late twenties – but I am not writing this to lament that, I am writing this to prevent it from happening again; I am writing this to once again design my life with the conviction that has allowed me to live my dreams in so many respects.

You see, I think that deep down we all know exactly what we want.

Only there’s a fly in the ointment: we are too afraid to admit our desires to ourselves.

They lay buried beneath a terrifying fear, one that I believe goes hand in hand with that elephant in the room called death. And it’s this fear that prevents us from feeling and expressing our latent, innate desires. And the fear is simply this idea that we may not get them.

I’m almost certain that all forms of acceptable human madness – mediocrity included – stem from this failure to confess our desires to ourselves.

This is an expressly adult problem; no five-year-old faces this existential quandary. Hell, there are a million child presidents and astronauts and veterinarians and mommies out there. And maybe ten of them will become who they wish to be and the rest will simply become adults.

It’s madness. We are more afraid of not getting what we want than we are of getting it. We grow up being told to be careful what we wish for – because we just might get it. Well, what about being careful to make sure we don’t fail to wish for things because we most certainly won’t get what we don’t wish for.

Well, what about being careful to make sure we don’t fail to wish for things because we most certainly won’t get what we don’t wish for.

Let me tell you: I have been there and done that. I have lived the life of unwished desires, and I have faced that soul crushing dreadful misery that only an adult can know. I’ve been dead to life and asleep to the world. I’ve soaked in the kind of acid misery that only eats away at the souls of those living relatively blessed lives in first world nations.

NO MAS.

I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. I want bigger and harder erections, I want more happy chemicals in my brain.

The aforementioned desires are jests.

What I really want is a myriad of completely attainable things. The kind of things like health and happiness and wealth and creative actualization – the kind of things that make my figurative dick hard.

And I’d be a fool to let anyone stop me from attaining them.

I can only imagine, as a cognitive exercise, how therapeutically effective a simulation or virtual reality program would be in which you experience your death, a kind of “It’s a Wonderful Life” thing. Why, people might actually start living instead of working and eating themselves miserably into their graves. Hating their lives deep down all the way, telling their once love to “go fuck themselves” and meaning it. We humans are fools – yet we lack in the foolishness that happiness requires – the kind of foolishness to say, “Why not me?”

I have been a damn fool – you don’t need to ask my exes who are happily living their lives without me to know – I’ll be the first to admit.

But I have compassion for myself.

I simply didn’t know any better.

Aside: Kristin Neff  (Love this woman!) at the University of Texas has done some really insightful research into compassion, and what her and her research team discovered, is that there is no relationship between compassion for self and others – as many assume. Put simply: some people have a lot of compassion for others and very little for themselves, while others – like my exes ; ) – have very little for others yet an abundance of compassion for themselves. Of course, like anything quantifiable, compassion exists on a spectrum, but I am glad to have moved more towards the middle after years of having very little compassion for myself, yet loads for others – like my exes. 

Anyway, as I was saying, I have been a fool. haha

But now, I’m learning, my mind is expanding (Thank you drugs.) jk

But no, I’m learning. And part of what I am doing is developing new beliefs. For what are a man’s beliefs but his theories, the assumptions and hypothesis by which he lives – or tries to live.

So, my new theory, ahem – belief -, my new belief is that I need to be foolish rather than a fool; for a foolish man is a happy man, happy because he is foolish enough to live the kind of life that happiness requires, which is a starkly individual life – as unique as he.

Did you think your fucking cookie cutter life was gonna cut it? ha

I did.

But like I said, NO MAS.

So, here’s what I’m gonna do.

I’m going to cognitively wrap my mind around some crazy ideas, concepts that most people don’t reject so much as fail to consider. These, my friend, are known as possibilities. Because the only certainty is death. Face your future as a kind of ant farm for worms. haha

Now make life great.

Make today great.

Take a vow. Honor yourself with the belief in your personal potential.

Look ahead on your remaining years and order up the kind of life that the universe has for you on the Chinese Take Out Menu of Possibility.

I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna fucking get mine.

And I’m going to give back to the world in a major way. Hell, you ungrateful sloth, I’m already giving back with these words. Read em bitch. Make your fucking life awesome.

You know what you want.

Simple: you know what your desires are.

Admit them to yourself. Admit Lawrence that you want someone who possesses the kind of soul that is capable of loving you and only you. Admit that you want a thousand million dollars. Admit that you want the homes and the boat and the jar midwest family, and the life of the world’s most popular living writer  – Paulo Coelho did it, WHY NOT YOU Black? Seriously, admit that you won’t lose sleep if you are so immensely happy and successful in the pursuit of your dreams that your exes cry themselves to sleep next to their miserable husbands. Admit your desires to yourself Lawrence. Admit that you want to teach English in some public college when you are forty five and that you hope half the female student body harbors a healthy crush on you. Admit that you have a penis and a pair of testicles. haha

I’m serious.

Watch me.

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All, Journal, Prose, Writing

To Be Okay

https://soundcloud.com/cderamos/brian-eno-the-big-ship

This year I have become myself.

Or, maybe, I have just crystallized into something whole, maybe I simply feel complete now that I know that this is as whole as I will ever be. alone.

And in all my solitude, in all my hours burning candles, in all my facing of myself, I’ve finally become someone who does not need anyone else to validate my own existence.

Lawrence Black: serial monogamist. Wannabe prince to those who shall remain nameless, those who are now blameless, to those who are, in my estimation, at least, changeless and perfect. And I lived through them, I saw myself through their eyes – for better and then for worse – until the bitter end.

And between those starts and ends, I was never a man unto myself, I was never okay – just okay – I was never okay; I was never okay – not on my own, at least.

And now I am [okay].

Now I am living through myself for the first time.

And for the first time, I am living for myself.

For this life is mine.

It is a wondrous thing to be okay, to know that regardless of whether or not anyone else does, that you yourself know, you know who you are; for to know who you are is to be okay.

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Goodnight Moon

Each day, we have but one day.

And reality is as real in the moment as it is false in others.

Sometimes, we merely need different mirrors in order to see beyond ourselves.

This weekend I saw beyond my own [mirrors], which gave me a glimpse into my future – the life I want.

And this life is mine.

I no longer wish to be smart. I no longer desire to impress myself.

All I want is honesty.

All I love is beauty.

And the only beauty is in being honest with yourself.

Goodnight moon.

 

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All, Journal, Poetry

Post Romantic Nostalgia, and Reprieve

As the sun sets earlier in the evening, I can feel myself being wrapped in the same discomforting melancholy that always calls as Autumn rolls around each year.

The thing is, while the feeling is familiar, I cannot quite put my finger on what causes it, why I feel the melancholy of dark Autumn evenings.

This year, maybe it’s just the insanity of having been in love more times than this mind can bear, but as I attempt to share my life, yet again, with another sweet girl, I can’t help but think of past seasons. Then I remember that everything ends.

But nonetheless, I hold fast to everything; I hold fast as if I never got over the past, which, it may be said, I never really have.

And maybe one day psychiatrists will classify the post romantic nostalgia that haunts those intrepid warriors of modern romance who cannot turn their love off like a light switch; but for now, one thing is certain: I’ve never been missed like this.

And it really doesn’t get easier.

You see: I fear having to draw an increasingly heavy wagon of skeletons behind me, full of the bones of past loves; I fear going insane: driven mad by post romantic nostalgia.

My past loves are phantom limbs, missing from me.

And as I live and breathe now, attempting to love another, I can’t help but fear she too is destined to haunt me.

But then I remember: everything ends.

I am one who cannot accept that nothing lasts forever.

I am one who cannot fathom that everything ends.

I am one who cannot let go; I am one who loves forever.

And I MUST do something about this.

I MUST come to terms with the inherent endings in life.

Because I wanted to grow old with every woman I ever loved.

And I came to a point this year where I decided that I couldn’t sleep with girls who didn’t care about me, because – fuck, let me tell you, it doesn’t feel good for your soul to share yourself with those who don’t care one iota about your hopes and dreams and fears.

60b63f9fce76e21c5402de5960c56537

thx Harriet V. for sending this pic to me : )

Only, I’m afraid sharing it all is just as frightening.

I’m scared of the ghosts of future past.

And I’m completely ungrateful for the ten years I’ve spent in love.

But I’m trying my damnedest to appreciate the reprieve I’ve been given.

My Reprieve

Born alone
Die alone

Nihilism’s a cold hard bed
But I sleep in anyway,
Because it’s just one more day
One more day I gotta love
One more fuck to give
And the ghosts don’t go away
The ghosts don’t go away

And the irony is: to my ghosts I am the dead one

The irony,
The grand tragedy of my life:
My memory lane remains a road to a mythological city
My own Atlantis
A place I never go,
And all I ever wanted was to look back

Who will I share my memories with
When ten years of my life are a rumor

But I remember
I remember it all

And it haunts me

So I have to figure out how to face it
Thus I write about my ghosts
And I’m tempted to say fuck you hoes
So tempted to stunt hard,
To break hearts with a Lambo and a black card

But it doesn’t make a difference,
Because ghosts are indifferent

So I’m becoming everything I can be
Since they don’t care if I spend my whole life in misery

Thanks,
Thanks,
Thanks,
Thanks,
Thanks for the memories

Now only to forget

To let go of regret

But I’m different,
Cause I’m better
I’m better,
I’m better.

And when you are cold,
I hope you wear our memories like a sweater
To comfort your lonely bones

But mine are threadbare
So I’m with a new brunette
And her heart is mine to wear

On my sleeve
On my sleeve
On my sleeve

Her love is my reprieve

And I know I may have to let go of it all,
Again and again

To love and live
To live and die
To try

It hurts like hell
When love dies

But for now
For now
For now:

She is my reprieve
And I still believe

In us.

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Her: This Poem is a Draft

I couldn’t be the me she wanted me to be
I couldn’t see what she wanted me to see

And let me make it clear, this poem is for Her to hear
But it’s dedicated to The Her that’s here

I’m writing this,
Trying to heal the hurt that’s here

The hidden pain
The hidden pain
The hidden pain

Life never makes sense

Pain never makes sense

So after you left, I became everything I was never

Ever after you,
I was ever, never the same
And after you left, I finally changed

You made me feel so at home
So after you left
I was home alone

I never felt so alone

Unknown to myself
I was a danger
A hazard to my health

I was lost
I was lost
I was lost.

And I’m sorry you paid the cost

You lost
You lost
You lost.

And it breaks my heart to give Her the me you deserved
The me you made –
So I bleed in secret to feel like the debt is being paid

But she’s nice.
A good girl like you
Who likes the things I do

Tonight I told Her she owes them to you
And she told me never to compare you two

But I can’t help but fear you would be happier than she
But unlike you she won’t leave me
And unlike Her, you don’t want to be here

So I’ll give Her everything you deserve

There’s nothing else to do.

Too real, I feel.
it’s okay. this poem is a draft,
Only: my life isn’t, and there lies the rub.

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Journal: Life is Sweet

I’m writing tonight because it’s what I do.

Also, I have a duty to myself, I have a duty to write – even when I am happy – in fact, I wouldn’t even mind making a habit of it.

And frankly: I am happy.

And sure, life goes on: that Thai place wasn’t that great tonight, and it wasn’t cool when I bumped into that girl at Starbucks after, while with the girl I am now seeing (Not to mention the girl who works there – ahem,… but that is another story).

And no, I am no player. Not in my nature.

But it is nice to no longer sit at home thinking:

Oneday, I will be able to give a girl the life I want for myself

I shudder just thinking of how blind [ignorant] I was.

Thankfully, I eventually said fuck that noise and I stopped being a bitch.

Seriously.

I wish I had some profound answer, but, eventually, you just gotta decide to quit being lame, and own your life.

And sure, the profound helps – but ultimately, it is up to you to make your life awesome.

And if you think it’s more complex than that, then please: go have a look at all the happy, successful, dumb mo’fuckers stunting on yo ass.

Today, there is more salt in a single liter of San Pellegrino than there is in all my philosophy.

Anyone following the evolution of myself and my writing this year can see that the clouds have lifted.

For the first time in far too long: I am in a great place. And – let me tell you – it has been a long time coming; for I see now that somewhere along the way, the clouds had become the sky and the mood had faded into a disposition.

Thankfully, there are three things capable of altering a person’s disposition – three things that let us see the clouds long after we have ceased taking notice of them.

These alchemical balms or, rather, solvents of consciousness are:
Love, G-d, and Psychedelics.

And the irony is that they are, in effect, all the same: for they all leave you with a deeper sense of gratitude, a greater sense of wonder, and a clearer understanding of life.

These are the very things that wash the salt away from the human soul.

Without the three craziest things known to man, I would have lost my mind a long time ago.

And – please – do not romanticize them; Love, G-d, and Psychedelics are no substitute for inward gazing – instead, think of them as alternative lenses through which, in moments of pure experience, stripped of your personality, you may see life for what it is rather than what you have unconsciously accepted it to be.

Perception is a filter – and once you have learned how to examine the filter, you will never again be blinded by it.

Now: I choose my perspective. I recognize today that I simply did not believe myself deserving of much these past five years – and, even now, I have to remind myself that I, indeed, am not only deserving but that I deserve far greater things than I have ever imagined for myself.

Let them be salty.


Dem Apples

I inspire –
I acquire what I desire –
And my girl gets what she requires –
Cause all she wants is we to perspire

So I feel healthy, like kind buds
She and I: we good buds

She a kind girl and my kinda girl
She say, I got that good D
I give her a vitamin, she swallow me

When she want takeout: I eat box
White boy swag: I beat box
Three times a day, no role play
And her body smooth like a rich girl
Only she ain’t no starbucks bitch girl

Got class, like 18 units
At the dining hall, we ball till we fall
Fuck me sober, cause I’m always over
Never under – but I get top
She young and sexy: halter tops

And I hope we never stop

And she says: “No one can tell us no.”
And she know, I love dat cookie doh

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A Case of Narcissism: in Defense of a Reborn Ego

I had to write this tonight because I am feeling really, really smart.

Like, I’m getting good at life.

But beyond stating the obvious, something lighthearted has been a long time coming – to myself and my writing. Yeah, that winter of 2014 took a long time to thaw – but, thank the 6 god, spring is here motherfuckers (Samuel L. Jackson voice).

If there was such thing as an apology letter – please understand that I write my exes Poems – then this is the antithesis of it. But I am not here to flex my ego; although, it’s not an entirely bad idea; you see, like any hyper self-aware and intelligent man with a hint of integrity, by my late twenties, my ego had become my arch nemesis – a foe whom I avowed to avenge my misery on.

And let me tell you, there is nothing like a major break up, followed by self-administered entheogenic therapy, to kill the ego. I mean, I murdered that motherfucker (Lawrence Black voice).

In the wake of my ego, I became obsessed with my own humility, which, ironically, is actually a terrible case of narcissism in itself – albeit a more unconscious one. But in my desire to become uber-humble, I became infinitely small. Dreams, ideas, feelings – everything – was atrophied. In hindsight, I cannot believe what I had become – and in honesty, it wasn’t the winter of 2014 that froze my soul like Winterfell, it was the winter of 2009.

But today, I am a long way from Seattle, and for the first time: glad.

Defeats are the one thing we will become anything in order to escape. And I did, I became the picture of defeat; in my effort to hide, I hid in plain sight from myself.

But this is life. I smile on it now. 

I smile because my ego has finally emerged from my shadow. From the dark night of the soul, to the aftermath and through the entire Jungian alchemical process, I have been through the Heroes Journey.

Welcome home Lawrence Black.

In my twenties I was a lot of things I wasn’t. But I see now that I also wasn’t a lot of the things I was. Yes, I have been reading lots of Zen literature (I recommend D.T. Suzuki to the uninitiated – Watts is for space cowboys).

I have also been reading the Upanishads, “Which contain some of the central philosophical concepts of Hinduism.” – to save you a google search.

And – like everything else in my life has and always will – these texts have come to me at exactly the right time.  Yes: this Western boy’s mind is starting to tilt heavily on an Eastern axis.

However, I am not writing this to espouse my evolved views, but – holy fuck – let me tell you, there is no better way to shake off the weight of Christian guilt in the collective unconscious than to read some shit written way before that shit was even a fucking thing (Sam Jackson voice).

I am constantly reminded today that a man’s beliefs are only his theories. Well, I got theories too bitch! (Law Black voice).

But returning to the Upanishads, they have shown me an entirely new way of thinking, of being, and of living a “spiritual life”, which is to say: a life in which one feels themselves worthy of having their own theories.

As Steve Jobs – a spiritual guy himself – said:

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

And, as I recently quoted, I don’t want to be a product of my environment, I want my environment to be a product of me.

But those words from a movie – they really didn’t resonate with me the first time I watched The Departed – they really didn’t mean anything until I came to understand that Steve Jobs’ words held so much more weight than their logical and aesthetic appeal. It is only now that I see just how trapped I was by other people’s thinking – my own included.

But now, I get it. Yup, this could be us.

But it is so much more than just coming full circle after gaining compassion for myself, having seen life more objectively for the first time.

No, it is more than that: it is the Ego which took me here. Full circle.

Yes, I have vilified and called my ego 24601 for a long time; I have trashed the ego as wonderfully as the Gurus taught me to.

But, let me tell you, I was wrong. Whoops. Sorry life. Sorry Lawrence that I fucked up the last four years of your life (Save for Shannon, who is the greatest woman I have ever dated  – love you Bunny).

But yeah: I was oh so wrong – but it’s all good. It was my path. Love your fate, as I always say. And I am not mad at all now that I see what a salty motherfucker I was (Kenny Fucking Powers’ voice).

And like the Upanishads, this re-emergence of the ego (As spoofed excellently by Kenny Fucking Powers.) has arrived at the right time in my life.

And to thank, I have Brahman and Atman, as well as Ayn Rand’s Anthem and Marie Louise Von Franz’s writing on the function and value of the ego.

One sometimes feels that the unconscious is leading the way in accordance with a secret design… this creatively active aspect of the psychic nucleus can come into play only when the ego gets rid of all purposive and wishful aims and tries to get to a deeper, more basic form of existence. The ego must be able to listen attentively and to give itself, without any further design or purpose, to that inner urge toward growth. – M.L.V.F.

These three things – the concept of the Self as taught by the Upanishads, Ayn Rand’s heroic picture of the ego in Anthem, and Jung protege Marie Louise Von Franz’s understandings on the role of ego in individuation – have given me an far greater, more absolute understanding of my ego, and myself, than I have ever possessed (Well, excepting before I knew what my ego was and I again then had a healthy one). But this is now.

I was a fragile creature playing strong from 25 through 30, living in a glass castle, naked and afraid, but no longer – and I am not sorry that the emperor has finally seen his reflection; I just wish someone would have told me what a terrified little asshole I was. 

I know, I didn’t listen.

But hey, I just gotta laugh at it now.

And to really flex my ego like a human being with my DNA at this point in space and time should: I really feel whole; I feel complete. I will even go so far as to say that I have reached what Jung called individuation.

To quote C.G. Jung:

To find out what is truly individual in ourselves, profound reflection is needed; and suddenly we realize how uncommonly difficult the discovery of individuality in fact is.

Yes. All that dying I did down in the rabbit hole I spent the last five years of my life in (Save for some of the rare moments when I was actually happy, thanks in large part to B.S.W) paid off.

I made it. I know who I am.

Note to Jung fans: like the synchronicity with the Kenny Powers’ soundbites in that song? (See prev link dickhead).

P.S. As Jung wrote: “Synchronicity is an ever present reality for those who have eyes to see.” And now that my ego has joined the living again – joined to a healthy and cleansed soul – I have eyes. And I see the beautiful young girl who adores me, and I see my success this month, and I see myself happy – every single day. 

Lawrence, SKW, friends, family: I am sorry.

But, it could’t have been any different.

In conclusion: I am no longer just an asshole – now I am a reborn one. In my defense, it is so much better to be an asshole than to be miserable.

To thine own self be true.

With Love,

Me

p.p.s., I recall a dialogue between therapist number one and I (Back in the pre-Seattle days, when I picked therapists based on their looks), in which I said to her that I believed myself to be ‘slightly narcissistic’, to which she replied, “Yes Lawrence, all highly successful people are.” 

Maybe, maybe not, but I would rather be a happy narcissist than a fucking dickhead.

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All, Meditations, Timeless Truths

Meditations: Sessions Seven through Nine: The Subjective Nature of Experience, The Will, and Perception

I’ve recently done some inner exploration with the help of organic plant based entheogens (Contact your local South American Shaman for details), and the experience has been nothing short of life altering – literally changing my MBTI Type from ENFP to ENTJ.

Basically, I got to experience reality without bias, without complexes, and without the filter of the Self. As Aubrey Marcus said of his Huachama experience, ‘It was a coming of age, twenty years late – but better now than never.’

The following notes, which continue my previously published meditations, are transcribed verbatim from my notebooks and have been loosely organized according to category.

The Subjective Nature of Consciousness / Reality

  • 7 bn Collective units of consciousness
  • Never before understood it
  • 7 bn individual units
  • The Cosmic Opera
  • Consciousness is not something to be fearful of
  • Consciousness is entirely subjective
  • Life (Reality) is made of consciousness and this life is entirely subjective
  • Ayn Rand’s philosophy is called Objectivism

Man’s Will

  • “It’s men’s wills that overpower one another”
  • Life is a contest of wills
  • Life is a game of potentials won by wills
  • Why are some wills stronger – more effective – than others?
  • Will = “The Force”
  • Human will is far more powerful than the universe (Or, rather, an equal power, since it is part of the universal force of cause and effect).
  • On a cosmic cause and effect level all beliefs are equal; whether you believe you can attain a small or a great thing, the effect is the same
  • Strength of will (Influences how great or small your beliefs are).
  • Think of the freedom of thought, exercise your will, your belief in yourself
  • The only limit is a man’s will
  • This is all how the powerful, celebs see life. A game of potentials and wills. Celebs merely have “talent” or appeal, or marketability – i.e., their potential
  • You can have whatever you are capable of having,
  • Lawrence. You will never lose a game of wills again in your life.
  • Lawrence: you have been manipulated by wills more powerful than yours so many times
  • I have played so small, been so stuck in my experience. Been so weak willed.
  • Look at the will and potential of others (Whom are massively successful); other people see their potential or what it might be and go after it
  • People live stuck at the bottom. Their wills broken
  • Drugs are used to manipulate the will and break the human spirit

Objectivity and The Power of Choice, Misc.

  • Getting into harmony with what you want is the magic of alchemy
  • What you choose to think you will feel
  • We can feel whatever we want
  • Rationality
  • To think less of thinking and more of doing
  • To not waste life in negativity
  • You can understand things without having to feel them
  • You don’t have to live life from your experiences, beliefs, background, etc.
  • You don’t have to attach your emotions to things – utility (Separating the utility of thought from the feeling of thought).
  • Prayer absolves a lot of people of their sins
  • Our battles are not with each other but with ourselves
  • What are we so afraid of that we are thinking all the time? (The Compulsion and addiction to thought).
  • If my G-d does not exist, he should
  • The hunger of desire is an illusion (Since we CAN create what we want).
  • Choose the thought that is most empowering, the absolute healthiest
  • Act as the man you are not the man you don’t want to be
  • Let love of life, the ultimate freedom, release you from fear
  • I am as my actions have made me, and my actions as my thoughts
  • “All is but thinking makes it so”. (Shakespeare).
  • Subjective
  • Potential
  • Belief
  • Will
  • Responsibility
  • “Reality”
  • “Perspective”
  • Self-knowledge
  • All psychological processes are identical but not all psyches
  • Women want a man w. Strong will, a strong frame – certainly stronger than their own
  • I never understood life until today
  • And most certainly never saw it as other people did.
  • So stuck in my experience
  • Everyone is stuck on their own experience.
  • Zero excuse not for me to fulfill my potential now
  • My whole life my concept of reality has been so sensitive
  • I have only been good when i have had a very grounded sense of reality,
    when someone i.e., a girlfriend had a stronger will that centered and anchored my reality.
  • I have always needed someone else to believe in me, never did before on my own. Was all a fucking mind game I was losing. Up until now life has been.
  • How plants? How San Pedro? (As an eye opener) helps separate consciousness from experience
  • You have the keys. You now know what the real limits and boundaries of reality are
  • Everything is just a concept people use to understand
  • Think about all the mindfucks, The Secret, P.U.A, all these cheap tricks, these shitty paradigms
  • Most people need a friendly packaging,, i.e., The Secret (They cannot wrap their head around the idea that so much of reality is built on BS small-minded concepts.
  • Previously I was so addicted to thinking and to feeling
  • I did not realize how stuck in that masochistic addiction I was

Confidence is Bullshit

  • “It’s your will against mine. You think you are cooler than me and I just don’t believe it. Because my beliefs tell me other people will think me cooler than you. Watch me.”
  • Think about the judgements people make based on the confidence or insecurity of others. And think about how much people care about what others think. In their value judgments, their choices.
  • People want to be cool.
  • All my failure (Do not belittle yourself for your ignorance), all of it. I was so stuck in my head.
  • Think how small even my wishes were (to be confident enough) lol
  • Confidence is what other people think
  • Confidence is bullshit. Confidence is the idea that I am only as cool as other believe I am.
  • (For many) Life is a game of who’s (fuckin’) coolest
  • Most people really care a lot about why other ppl think bc that’s where their self image comes from. And without that, life has no point to them

Manipulation

  • Understand peoples values and you can control the people. Think about how the people at the top think Lawrence
  • Understand people’s feat or being manipulated.
  • Lawrence, see, deduce how life works, what people value, how people think
  • Understand their fear of being manipulated by people who know this is how people work.
  • Like that movie where people are more afraid of offending a stranger than a serial killer
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