All, Personal Mythology, Poetry, Psychology

Unknown To Myself

I’ve been revisiting the wilderness of my youth in dreams,
Picking up loose threads in the dark like berries from the forest floor
And in the mornings, I reflect on my stained-bounty,
Weaving and dyeing the truth with fresh memories;
For, wrapped in a quilt I’ve made,
Covered in shame,
My treasure has hidden,
Unborn in the buried past –
A past where I was the odd-man out,
Excluded by the in-group
A freak in my own town
Manipulated, blind…
How unknown to myself I was;
Yet in hindsight, I see,
I am reborn like the hero of prophecy,
Purifed of and by my naiveté
Myself reclaimed
My perspective changed

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All, Personal Mythology, Prose, Psychology, Science, Videozz

My Case for the Simulation Argument

Preface / Author note:

I wrote this three years ago; however, it was never properly published, until now. 

In 2015 my world view was becoming far less ethereal and far more grounded in the pragmatic realities of science and technology; however, this suited me. I was writing a lot of code at the time (nothing too l33t, just front end stack), and I was fascinated by the singularity and futurism. Soon my new gods Sagan and Degrasse Tyson, were joined by Kurzweil and others; however, it was Nick Bostrom’s The Simulation Argument that would change my spiritual life.

Put forth in plain-speak – as I have come to understand it – the Simulation Argument is the idea (hypothesis) that we are living in a computer simulation, that reality itself is akin to a computer program.

Wait, what?

If the idea is new to you, it’s likely to sound like we are living in The Matrix — which isn’t a terrible metaphor, but it isn’t a great one either.

Allow me to explain it [my conception of the Simulation Argument] as I have to friends:

Remember the first Atari?

Image from PC World, January 2013: “Atari files for bankruptcy, but it’s not ‘game over’”

We all know how basic games like Pong and Pacman were; now, think of the newest iteration of the gaming console, the Playstation Four:

Now, I want you to imagine the gaming console in twenty or thirty more years. Full neural immersion. Not just virtual reality, but reality indistinguishable from our own.

Scientists (Bostrom, Musk, et al.) believe that it’s going to be possible to simulate reality. Based on that hypothesis, it’s more likely than not that this is also a simulation, and that there are more simulated worlds than real worlds.

This is where you, the reader, may be thinking: put the bong down man. Only, this isn’t a half-baked concept. The Simulation Argument has gained major traction, both for and against; however, my purpose isn’t to dissect something that has been better explained by those smarter than myself. I merely want to explain what gave me a sense that yes, there might be a god, a great programmer in the sky.

For, if this is a simulation, then so many things would make sense for me, which otherwise do not in a purely natural world, but I must restate that I do not wish to try and explain things outside of my expertise, which math and science certainly are; however, I find solace in the knowing that some of the world’s smartest minds can arrive at answers I cannot, but nonetheless answers which solve very important questions, because philosophically humans have always sought to understand life — to understand their place in the universe. That’s really what this is a question of: what am I? Am I a mass of nerves, or am I something that might stretch beyond the physical universe? Is my soul in the cloud?

When I learned of the Simulation Argument and interpreted it as a personal paradigm for the nature of life and as an intelligent and compelling case for the existence of a god or godlike entity, I felt changed, I felt renewed; I felt that maybe the universe wasn’t so impartial and that maybe I could influence my fate more than I previously thought. Just maybe, life wasn’t fated for us to pass from the cradle to grave with a bit of luck and suffering in-between. Maybe magical things could happen. Maybe I could design my own user-experience in life. Maybe things like love, luck, The Law of Attraction, and other concepts fewer and fewer people seem to believe in today, are real. For me, it came down to the existence of free-will, a sense of profound possibility.

It’s this sense of profound possibility that comprises my present day definition of what it means for me to be religious. For, to believe in god as I conceive of the concept, is to believe in serendipity, in happy accidents, in the things my non-belief in (prior to learning of the Simulation Argument) had prevented me from experiencing. My atheism, my lack of faith in something beyond biological organisms, excluded the possibilities of me having a soul, of me having a rich inner world. When I was an atheist, my inner world was dead: it did not exist.

Nick Bostrom wasn’t the only individual who opened up the doors to my believing in a god. Around the same time I became interested in Bostrom’s work I began delving into the work of Swiss Psychologist Carl Jung, who believed that man needs religion, and the nature of the psyche is innately religious.

Jung had described my problem, prior to adopting a “religious outlook on life”:
…Among all my patients in the second half of life — that is to say, over thirty-five — there has not been one whose problem in the last resort was not that of finding a religious outlook on life. It is safe to say that every one of them fell ill because he had lost what the living religions of every age have given their followers, and none of them has been really healed who did not regain his religious outlook. This of course has nothing whatever to do with a particular creed or membership of a church.

It was the Simulation Argument, an argument for the possibility of intelligent design, which made it possible for me to adopt a religious outlook on life. Once I had done this, I could believe in what Jung coined “synchronicity”.

Jung’s concept of synchronicity is the idea of meaningful coincidences and the connection between psyche and matter (the inner and the outer world). Jung called it, “An acausal connecting principle.”

Without a religious outlook on life, such a thing would be mere superstition, rather than within the realm of reality, for a religious outlook gives one a grander sense of reality — a theosophy — a belief in mystical insight into our lives and our destinies; a belief in the power of our own intuition and our own intention.

Whatever we wish to call it, however we choose to describe it, it speaks of a coordinating agency of limitless scope and finite subtlety, whereby all the coincidences and connections of the world coalesce in a grand design, within which our dreams are possible (Provided humankind does not rob us of them ex: The Holocaust, wars, murder).

Seen this way, synchronicity, serendipity, kismet, chance, divine will, all present themselves within the people, messages, signs, and lessons we can find if we are looking for them; however, if we don’t believe in them: none are possible.

Postscript: 

Elon Musk gives impossible odds for us living in “base reality“.

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All, Journal, motivation, MyFavoritez, Personal Mythology, Philosophy, Psychology, Self-Actualizing, Timeless Truths

Get Thee Up

“I wake up every morning and check if I am in a state of grace,” a 31 year-old Leonard Cohen told an interviewer in 1965.

Every morning of your life, you choose whether your soul is in a state of grace or not. Now, whether or not this is a conscious choice is up to you.

For me, the grace of my soul requires no more than that I choose to live consciously: choosing to be happy – choosing to be excited about MY life – choosing to affirm the gratitude I have for the opportunities that are mine to seize TODAY.

In the words of a young Leonard Cohen: “There are dreams of glory whispering through the wires of my spine.”

I want this everyday. 

This is called “a can’t lose attitude”. 

Put simply: your wellbeing is your choice; you can have it everyday.

Happiness isn’t the result of a good life but the cause of one.

And while we live in a world of thermometers – people who reflect their environment – YOU CAN be a thermostat – controlling your own; for we are either kings or pawns in this life (Alexander Dumas).

As the ancient proverb reminds us: “The mind is a wonderful servant but a terrible master.”

Remember this; wrap your mind around it; marinate on it.

As I have reinterpreted it: happiness isn’t the result of a good life but the cause of one.

And whether I know all this stuff already or not – and no matter how much I have written it – I will never stop reminding myself of the core tenets that comprise the bedrock of my life and my wellbeing.

Choice.

Choice.

Choice.

If you don’t choose your beliefs about yourself – if you aren’t consciously choosing your beliefs about your relationship to today – they will exist independently of your own power.

And trust me, if you are relying on anything outside of yourself for your wellbeing, you are playing a risky game.

Last time I checked, this world was not exactly in a state of grace. And while that’s unfortunate, it is not in my power nor in my duty to control (Footnote 1/1). 

What I know is that I can choose to live in a state of grace REGARDLESS of what happens or has happened in my life; for I rely on that impenetrable thing Emerson referred to as “self-reliance”.

And while it requires a bit more courage, life is far better lived from the saddle than in the carriage.

So giddyup and exercise your will, for that is what you are here to do.

Giddyup Etymology:

From get up or get ye/thee up.


Footnote 1: There is absolutley nothing wrong with knowing in your heart of hearts that you are a bit better than this savage world you were born into: for it’s a Trump America and the inmates are officially running the asylum.

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All, Journal, MyFavoritez, Personal Mythology, Philosophy, Psychology, Self-Actualizing

Bucking The Lazy Cowboy, or How The Little Prince Usurped Peter Pan

Life would seem so easy, as if we could just say: “I want to wake up early and write everyday”, and it would happen. 

Only, there’s a fly in the ointment: we don’t always do the things we want to do; sure, we wish them to happen but things don’t happen according to wishes – things happen according to actions. That’s how life works. Call it the difference between intention and action, wish and fulfillment. 

This is why I am writing tonight: because of that difference; because there is a difference; because I am not going to wake up tomorrow and write fiction – as I wish to. 

Why? You tell me. 

Why don’t you work out? Why don’t you eat right!? You know what to do. You want to look and feel better but you eat pizza and chicken sandwiches for dinner. 

I am speaking to myself but I think it’s a fair analogy: I do what I feel rather than what I should. 

Only, I am tired of not having what I want. Tired of not feeling better. Tired of not being happier. Tired of not being Lawrence Black: builder of self, mover of mountains. 

I admit, I brood. I get into modes of self-pity. These things happen; however, I am trying to be more than my moods; I am trying to transcend them so that I may bring my dreams to life, and I need to overcome my nature in order to do that. Because me, left to my own innate nature, I am kind of a lazy cowboy; contented with the basic essentials: whiskey, women, food, fire, sleep.

Fun for a weekend, but it’s not a life to just get by / it’s not a life without progression. Because there is one kind of life I know to be amazing: and that is the life you are excited to wake up and live; the life you are thinking about when you go to bed at night because you can’t wait to wake up in the morning and live it. 

I know this feeling: I have felt it before. 


Part 2: The Little Prince Usurps Peter Pan

And this is where I fell asleep. We were watching The Little Prince on Netflix and I was tired, and the muse had run out of gas on this topic. Fortunately, however, I awoke five minutes ago – after a few hours of deep slumber – with an idea clear as day; I realized that it was no longer serving me to live without care for my responsibilities. Allow me to elaborate. 

For a long time, Peter Pan was my spirit animal. Well, in a more archetypal manner but nonetheless Peter Pan was a strong muse for this Puer. Ask my exes if this sounds familiar. 

And I love Peter Pan but I can no longer afford to let him take the wheel. I have responsibilities, and as Wretch 32 sings:

The weight of responsability’s grown on me. 

And it really has. 

I lost my Dad to cancer not many weeks ago. Now I am the man of the family. And this isn’t just some abstract idea or feeling; I am thinking about my mom’s future. Furthermore, Sarah relies on me as a provider and as a romantic lover: she believes in my dreams and she wants to live them with me. This is why we moved to the mountains: so I could write and so we could rejoice in one another’s solitude and companionship. But I can’t afford to rest on my laurels simply because I know I am destined for greatness. That is classic Peter Pan syndrome. 

Peter Pan never grows up. He refuses to. In fact, the world is introduced to Peter Pan through the work of J.M. Barrie, who titles his play: Peter Pan, or the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up. 

Here is Wikipedia on Peter Pan’s personality:

Peter is an exaggerated stereotype of a boastful and careless boy. He claims greatness, even when such claims are questionable (such as congratulating himself when Wendy re-attaches his shadow). In the play and book, Peter symbolises the selfishness of childhood, and is portrayed as being forgetful and self-centred.

Peter has a nonchalant, devil-may-care attitude, and is fearlessly cocky when it comes to putting himself in danger. Barrie writes that when Peter thought he was going to die on Marooners’ Rock, he felt scared, yet he felt only one shudder. With this blithe attitude, he says, “To die will be an awfully big adventure”. In the play, the unseen and unnamed narrator ponders what might have been if Peter had stayed with Wendy, so that his cry might have become, “To live would be an awfully big adventure!”, “but he can never quite get the hang of it”.

I am painfully aware of the relevance here for my life; however, I didn’t realize how much of a shadow archetype Peter Pan has been for me, meaning how unhealthy this “spirit” has been in my life. 

Contrast Peter Pan’s laissez-faire, self-serving existence in Neverland with that of The Little Prince, who lives on the tiny asteroid planet B-612, which he maintains and cares for (Weeding the volcanos and trimming the ever growing trees), before eventually falling in love with a rose, with whom he has to deal with her vanity. Although she apologizes for her vanity and they reconcile, the petit Prince nonetheless vows to go explore the universe. 

Whereas Peter Pan never wants to leave Neverland except to recruit children from the Darling household. In fact, even when Wendy falls for him and wants a kiss, Peter simply sees her as a surrogate mom. And when, in the end of the story, Peter has a chance to be with Wendy, he declines – opting instead to stay with his Lost Boys in Neverland. In short, Peter Pan is a self-absorbed boy who refuses to grow up. 

Meanwhile, our Little Prince leaves his love (The rose) and his planet, B-612, to go learn about the universe. He is just a boy but he is intrepid and brave. And despite being a boy he sees the foolishness of the adults on each of the asteroids he visits. From Wikipedia:

The prince has since visited six other asteroids, each of which was inhabited by a single, irrational, narrow-minded adult, each meant to critique an element of society. They include: a king with no subjects; a vain man, who believes himself the most admirable person on his otherwise uninhabited planet; a drunkard who drinks to forget the shame of being a drunkard; a businessman who is blind to the beauty of the stars and instead endlessly counts them in order to “own” them all (critiquing materialism); a lamplighter who wastes his life blindly follows orders and extinguishing and relighting a lamp once a minute; and an elderly geographer. Like the others, the geographer is closed-minded, providing a caricurature of specialization in the modern world.

Our Little Prince is learning about the world. And unlike Peter Pan, he forms real, meaningful relationships with the people he encounters: loving the rose, taming the fox, and teaching the narrator about life. 

While Peter Pan teaches us to remain adolescents and hold onto our childhood, The Little Prince teaches us about growing up and letting go. And this is what life requires: maturity. 

The truth is, it is not serving me or my dreams any longer to be Peter Pan. There was a time when the Peter Pan spirit kept me going, when it made me daring and brave, enabling me to walk away from my own Wendys so that I might follow that inner voice telling me that I wasn’t home yet. But now I am, and this lazy cowboy is ready to become a little prince. No more living in Neverland. I’ve got a universe to explore. 

So what’s the meaning of all this inner alchemy? What is the outcome of these paradigm shifts?

Well, I’ve got responsibilities to tend to. Work, writing, health, love. 

And I can no longer afford to ignore them, I can no longer remain a boy. 

And so it is, I will invoke the bravery of The Little Prince, and I will face life with faith in myself and trust in my journey, much like Peter Pan gave me faith in myself as a boy; only, I need different heroes as a man: heroes capable of inspiring me to take action rather than simply dream. 

Note: here are a couple good follow ups for anyone interested in the Puer (the eternal boy) and The Little Prince:

Two Psychoanalytical Readings of The Little Prince:

https://icu.repo.nii.ac.jp/index.php?action=repository_action_common_download&item_id=4032&item_no=1&attribute_id=22&file_no=1&page_id=13&block_id=17

The Problem of The Puer Aeternus, Marie Loius Von Franz:

https://www.slideshare.net/mobile/micmac108/puer-aeternus

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All, health, Journal, Personal Mythology, Philosophy, Psychology, Self-Actualizing

The Suck: Choice is Yours

Melancholy days. I still have them; usually they happen when life doesn’t live up to my expectations. 

There is, of course, the adage that, happiness is reality minus expectations. It follows then, that we are, for the most part, responsible for our own happiness or sadness; however, I find value in all emotional states: the sour is a valuable part of life. 

Some days pain is going to visit you, and you will look in the mirror and know that you are better than this. Now, whatever this is, it’s what your life happens to be at the present moment.

Does that mean there is no changing it? No. You can change it, but you’re going to need to be honest with yourself about what needs to be changed and what is going to be required of you. 

What do you want? Remind yourself. Never forget; even if those expectations cast a thunderstorm above life as it stands today. You musn’t scale down your expectations because they aren’t met. That’s resignation. 

I think the path to mediocrity is an easy one: it’s the path most are on. They resign themselves to life as it is. I, on the other hand, would rather have days like this, knowing that they are reminders of what I want, what I deserve, and what I am capable of creating. 

As John Mayer sings on The Heart of Life, “Fear is a friend who’s misunderstood”. So too is sadness, melancholy, and pain. These things are the feedback system within us, designed to let us know that shit sucks. 

Because sometimes – contrary to what your Facebook feed might lead you to believe – life can suck – and that’s okay, not just normal, but healthy. For without days like this, how are we ever to grow, to evolve. We need days like this. In fact, I would argue that without days like this, we aren’t living full and honest lives. 

Sure, I have a lot to be grateful for. I am neither disputing nor forgetting that. Fact is, anyone who has been through what I have gone through does not forget to count their blessings. I am a fortunate fellow. I’ve got youth, health, passion, intellect, and a wellspring of potential, which I am fully aware of. It’s just X, Y, and Z – the flies in the ointment – that really upset me. 

So I have two choices: I can let the suck cripple me, essentially relegating me to my bed as the suck tends to do – or, I can make a plan to change the suck.

Life is a game of potentials but it is won by wills. You cannot allow the suck to break your will or to weaken your resolve. It has to fuel it, it has to embolden your cause, serving to act as nature’s reminder that life can be more than this. So put pen to paper as I am today. Make a plan to change X, Y, and Z. It’s either that or you accept it. The choice is all yours but the suck is here regardless. It’s what you do with it, what meaning you allow it, and how it changes you. So use it. Let it push you forward. Let it spur you to change what you can, which is either the cause of the suck, your beliefs about the suck, or how the suck makes you feel. Chances are, however, that the latter element is futile: it sucks. There is no changing that. That’s what the suck is. But it’s not all it is. The suck presents an invaluable opportunity to change your circumstances, to refuse to accept what is, and to grow and evolve. 

As Henry Ford said, “Most people miss opportunity because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work”. 

That’s kind of what the suck is like. But, if we can look past it and we can see things honestly for what they are, we might just be looking at the chance we have been waiting for, which we ought to be grateful fortune has bestowed upon us. 

So no, I won’t embrace the suck – but I will welcome it as an opportunity, seeing pain as a messenger, and I will turn adversity to my advantage. This is how the hero plays the game. As I always say, you are either the hero of your story or the victim. Choice is yours. 

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All, Personal Mythology

I’m Proud of Myself

For knowing that my story is not what happens to me but what I make of it
For teaching myself to sail when I was 14
For falling in love again and again (My heart is like the fucking energizer bunny).
For moving on
For the success I had in my twenties
For the success I am building again now
For allowing myself to rediscover and reappraise who I am
For letting go
For forgiving myself
For being lovable
For writing on here for almost 8 years
For the books I have read
For the book collection I have amassed
For teaching myself to code
For building businesses
For picking up new hobbies at thirty
For taking psychedelics
For serving in the Navy at the age of 17
For moving to Santa Barbara alone when I was twenty four
For moving to Seattle when I was twenty five
For moving to Milwaukee alone when I was twenty six
For moving to LA when I was twenty seven
For having been loved by the greatest women I have ever known
For being a good boyfriend in all of my relationships but not always
For self-awareness
For growth
For being a great dog dad
For learning to like myself (Amen.)
For learning about depth psychology
For moving back home when I had to
For letting myself fall
For not letting the world get to me
For knowing exactly who I am
For continuing to evolve
For never giving up
For building that boat when I was 16
For cutting shitty people out of my life without apology to myself
For facing all of the dark things in me I needed to face in my twenties
For confronting life head on today
For being a damn good person and not letting an ex permanently convince me otherwise
For not making heroes of tragic figures
For not being the victim of myself
For loving my fate because I know I am the master of it
For taking care of my body and health and learning about those things on my own
For knowing how to cook a perfect roast chicken
For having the self-respect to be a dick when appropriate
For not letting any doctrine rule me
For not letting my heart turn cold
For not being a nihilist
For not believing in a human god
For being a humanist
For having my own, unique, rational and intelligent beliefs
For trusting life today
For trusting myself
For evolving my style to reflect who I am
For holding onto my true childhood ideals
For the love I gave
For snorkeling so many days last summer
For wanting to buy another skateboard
For having the dreams I do and knowing I will do them
For all the time I spent alone, just sitting
For loving all the right things
For what I have learned on my own about stoicism, mythology, and psychology
For being my own best friend
For being a good friend to others
For learning to not take shit personally (Huge)
For being confident and comfortable
For being such a huge Ed Ricketts fan
For overcoming my circumstances despite everything! (u have no fukn idea bitch). lol
For taking charge of my life
For being serious about my dreams
For turning my biggest defeats into my greatest motivators
For speaking up for myself
For not pitying myself
For knowing that consciousness is a computer
For teaching myself and writing poetry
For being a friend to those who need it
For protecting myself
For being such a conscious, loving parent to my own inner child
For becoming myself
For being a strong person
For being the hero of my own story
For all I know about hip-hop, cars, watches (growing), beer, cactus (growing), etc.
For speaking my mind and never being a calculating, manipulative person
For defining my circumstances rather than letting them define me
For revisioning the past so that I am no longer afraid of living in it
For being spiritual
For being the better version of the person I wanted to be
For not being afraid to ask or to act
For knowing exactly where I am going
For having no regrets
For having so much gratitude
For getting new tattoos
For remembering my spiritual grandfathers
For being whatever the fuck I want – society’s boxes be damned
For being the biggest hippie/yuppie/edgy/nerdy paradox in the world
For still loving my exes
For not being bitter anymore lol!
For laughing
For cultivating my tastes in the things I love
For not watching TV (lol, that shit’s not for me)
For having had such great pull out game that I didn’t have kids haha
For taking the time to write this
For being honest
For staying curious in my ignorance but comfortable in my knowledge
For hacking the fuck out of my mind so that it’s so good
For being humble, sweet, and kind
and for walking onto the rugby pitch for the first time

I’m proud of myself for living my creed.

I’m proud of myself for making little Lawrence proud.

Here’s to living your secret childhood myth.

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All, Journal, MyFavoritez, Personal Mythology, Philosophy, Psychology, Self-Actualizing

The Past: Writing on The Revisioning of My Life in The Summer of My Years

I know where I’m going. 

I thought that I had known before, as a young-man of twenty four sometimes does, but I know now that the present could only ever get me so far in life. Eventually, if you are to have a future, you have to go back. You have to enter the cave you fear to find the treasure you seek (Joseph Campbell).

Once you do that, you’ll find your treasure. And once you have your treasure, you’ll never lose it. 

Now that I’ve begun to Re-see my past, to revise it, it’s up to my visioning of the future to carry me the rest of the way. 

As 50 Cent raps on ‘Don’t Push Me’: “I need to know where I’m heading cause I know where I’ve been”. 

I relate to this line, having now an increasingly compassionate, healthy, and empowering understanding of my [past]. I know exactly where the fuck I’ve been and just how damn difficult it was for me – as life is difficult for all of us in ways. 

I spent the better part of my first twenty-nine years of life nearsighted to the breadth of available reality: my happiness was narrow and my sorrow wide. 

Furthermore, I was shortsighted to life in that I wasn’t able to look ahead very far: I didn’t possess the clarity or the trust to understand life and thus my future at twenty six. But I don’t think I was meant to understand it back then. 

Twenty one year old me couldn’t create what thirty-one year old me has. Twenty-fucking-one me was a sensitive uptight prick. Thankfully, a good dose of heartbreak would fix that: upgrading me from a complete cock to more of just a regular dick. #levels. Huge improvement – but we’re not quite there yet; however, as fortune would have it, the fates would axe my life path more than I could have ever known, sending me down the road back to myself, again and again. 

I’ve loved and said goodbye to a coterie of marvelous, wonderful women. A couple of whom maybe didn’t break me as badly as losing bunny or mousie, but still, I have been loved by every woman I ever fell for. And I can only hope for them what I have found, which is that the heart goes on. And I hope they have grown from their mistakes as I mine. In due fairness, I too was pretty incomplete back then. 

Such is love in the spring of life: often fleeting. 

But now I find myself in the summer of my years knowing that, like Sinatra, come autumn, I will I think of my life as vintage wine from fine old kegs, from the brim to the dregs, pouring out sweet and clear. 

I was a guy who thought my story was over a time or two, or fifteen. To quote Rollo May’s definition of depression, I had an inability to construct a future. 

Ironically, I also had a terrible relationship with my past. I treated my adult past like my childhood past: I buried it in pity. I repressed it all beneath a tomb of sorrow. But I never grieved. I never honored it. 

Tonight, and lately, I’m finally looking back on the past with clear eyes. And I’m doing it because I finally am mature enough to, but also because I’ve come to learn just how important past is to one’s mythology. (Thank you Rollo May: Man’s Search for Himself, and The Cry for Myth. Also to the most high, C.G. Jung). 

We think of myth and we think of made up stories. But myth doesn’t mean that. As Rollo May explains, myth comes from 

…. (too tired to grab book, read this). 

To me myth is the truth, and I was blind to mine for a long time – consciously. So I lived the unconscious one, the repressed stuff, as we all do until we learn the facts of life we live blind to. 

And it’s mind blowing stuff. 

Don’t believe me? 

Fall in love again. 

Take a trip

Fall. 

Go.

I did, again and again. I never gave up. I never will. And not just because it’s great today, but because I went through the fucking shit I did to get here, and I know what I am made of. 

It would have been a terrible crime against myself to take a purely stoic perspective on the past, saying: I don’t have to suffer anymore; it was all psychological; it was all in my head. 

As much as that’s true, as much as my my mind has opened, it’s been the opening of my heart to life that has opened my eyes. And this, I owe the past for. 

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All, Journal, Personal Mythology, Psychology

What Other Myth Could I Live

Writer, Businessman, Poet, Lover, Man,
All that I ever was all along,
All that I feared I would never be
Funny how I ever thought I wouldn’t become me
Funny how the wild things, once teeming with wild dreams,
Now whisper their secrets to me –
What other myth could I live.


In my darkest days I slept till three.

What more need I say; I was very depressed.

Today, when I think about that period in my life, I recall Rollo May’s description of depression as: ” …the inability to see or construct a future.”

And I couldn’t. I couldn’t let. go. I couldn’t see myself outside of my first two loves; as Drake sings on Views: If I ever loved ya, I’ll always love ya. And that was terribly toxic for me, because I didn’t love myself. So, I spent a lot of time feeling essentially incomplete: as if I had failed to live up to my dreams, and all that was left was the past, which I ached for.

Thankfuck, time truly does heal all.

I just didn’t know it would take so many years, but it did; however, it wasn’t the past that healed: it was me. It was me letting the false parts of me suffer until I shed them, and it was gaining the crystal clear picture of my identity I have today.

And it took so many years for me to get here, because I had so much unpacking to do; I had so much grief to face. But in that grief, I fell into life and I found that I could be there for myself: even in my darkest hour in the smallest ways. And in learning to be there for myself, I got to discover who I was.

And the funny part is, that beneath all the fear of not becoming who I wanted to be, there was a person who just wanted to peacefully coexist with his dreams. That’s all. No trouble. No drama; I just wanted to make awesome things happen, but I was full of excuses to keep suffering instead.

I can finally see that, now that I am no longer living in the unconscious grip of the myth that things had been unfortunate for me. Today, I no longer feel sorry for myself. And now that I no longer pity myself, I no longer have to live with the pain of what felt like irreconcilable burden of sorrow.

It was my personal hell – my world of mirrors and fears – but I just didn’t know any better growing up. And I say growing up, because I was growing up the past few years, and in particular the past twelve months. Today, I’m still growing, but life has come full circle. I’m whole and growing. I’m upgraded; on a new level. The heroes journey has led me to the wilderness and back.

Today I know what lays within me may also lay before me, and I know who I am can never be taken away from me.

For not even the past is irreconcilable. After all, it is only in reconciling with future and past that we may find peace in our present lives. This is the power of personal mythology. When you change the way you see things, you change, you begin to grow. And when you take command of your story, it really begins.

So, I go: onward. And I’m excited about life, as I have never been, because in the sometimes apropos words of Kanye West: “My life is dope and I do dope shit.”

What other myth than that would you want to live. What other myth could you live than your own.

This is your life, so work with what you’ve got and control what you may, but give your all.

Be brave.

Believe in yourself.

Trust that life will get out of the way and allow your will to be done.

These are only a few of my truths, but they’re all I need. They’re all I need.

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All, Journal, Personal Mythology, Philosophy, Psychology, Self-Actualizing, Timeless Truths

On Fate Vs. Destiny, and Locus of Control

It’s funny writing this; funny having had this blog for nearly eight years. Funny because I’m so different from who I was even a year ago.

I’m quieter now. More introverted. More at peace.

But I’m still a seeker, as an oft cited quote here evidences:

“I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me.” – Herman Hesse

I have, indeed, ceased to question stars; for, now I know that the answers are not “out there”, but, rather, in here.

In fact, just last night, looking at the night sky from the beach, I said softly to Sarah, “I look at the stars, and all I can think is how far I’ve come.”

It’s a big difference from being twenty four and looking at the stars as if I expected their pity.

I am so grateful to be internally guided today, to trust myself. To live according to that invisible, intuitive, mythic substance pulsing within my blood, which whispers to me the promise of the oak tree in the acorn, of a guiding destiny within my soul. As someone once remarked of Walt Disney, “He had a sense of his own destiny.” And I loved that. For it is destiny, and not fate, which calls me.

Destiny coming from the Latin destinare, which means “to make firm” or “to establish”, and Fate from the Latin fatum, which means “that which has been spoken.”

In short, fate implies an externally determined course of events, whereas destiny places fate under a person’s control according to their own power to act.

Choice. Free will.

I, for one, do not believe all has been spoken according to a supernatural power – at least not according to any outside myself. I believe – I know – that I am capable of establishing and making firm my own fate; for nowhere else outside my own soul has my destiny ever been controlled.

And, at first glance, it may seem that making a distinction between fate and destiny is almost a purely semantical exercise, but I promise you I am not over here engaged in intellectual masturbation. This is actually one of the paramount questions every human being answers to – whether they know it or not: for who among us has not decided – consciously or unconsciously – whether or not we are actually in control of our own lives?

The extent to which we believe we alone are capable of controlling our own lives, this is the extent of our freedom.

In psychology this freedom is known as a person’s locus of control.

People who develop an internal locus of control believe they are responsible for their success and failure in life; however, those with an external, rather than internal, locus of control believe external forces, such as luck and chance, determine their life.

It’s a remarkable concept. A person’s locus of control is essentially their individual answer to the question of free will.

And even more interesting to me, is the fact that a person’s locus of control is so heavily determined by their family:

From wiki, Locus of Control

Familial origins

The development of locus of control is associated with family style and resources, cultural stability and experiences with effort leading to reward. Many internals have grown up with families modeling typical internal beliefs; these families emphasized effort, education, responsibility and thinking, and parents typically gave their children rewards they had promised them. In contrast, externals are typically associated with lower socioeconomic status. Societies experiencing social unrest increase the expectancy of being out-of-control; therefore, people in such societies become more external.[44]

The 1995 research of Schneewind suggests that “children in large single parent families headed by women are more likely to develop an external locus of control”. Schultz and Schultz also claim that children in families where parents have been supportive and consistent in discipline develop internal locus of control. At least one study has found that children whose parents had an external locus of control are more likely to attribute their successes and failures to external causes. Findings from early studies on the familial origins of locus of control were summarized by Lefcourt: “Warmth, supportiveness and parental encouragement seem to be essential for development of an internal locus”. However, causal evidence regarding how parental locus of control influences offspring locus of control (whether genetic, or environmentally mediated) is lacking.

Locus of control becomes more internal with age. As children grow older, they gain skills which give them more control over their environment. However, whether this or biological development is responsible for changes in locus is unclear.

To me, this is fascinating, fascinating stuff. Perhaps some of the very stuff a person’s internal security is built upon; perhaps the very question determining the trajectory of their lives.

And on this note, I will admit that I have flipped between the two sides in my life. I think I’m naturally an internal locus of control person. But I’ve also gone nihilistic and said, “fuck it” in the face of a life I felt I didn’t sign up for. That’s just part of my life. I can only assume I needed that time of resigned depression to get here now, because I’m in a different place, and I see things differently.

But a huge part of that is that I have made the shift. As Rollo May writes: “Depression is the inability to construct a future.”

I can, thank fuck, construct the future. Heaven knows I have constructed my present. From my dreams. From the things I held dear in the dark of the quietest nights.

And now I’m looking to the next Level – the myth still hiding in the man -the life I’ve yet to live; the person I am – but have yet to become.

And it’s really exciting. It’s really neat to feel you are at a place of health and progression. Of growth and peace rather than stagnation and unrest.

And I actually wrote tonight to talk about myth – the idea that we are all living our myth, and that we can make our myth conscious and shape it.

As evidenced above, I became distracted serendipitously, and ended up writing on fate vs destiny and the locus of control, instead of myth as a living religion, but I can only suppose that is just as well.

For I will not forget that I control my life. That I am me.
And so, I will choose to go to bed now. Saving the rest for another night.

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All, Personal Mythology, Philosophy, Prose, Self-Actualizing, spirituality

The Young Actuals

12924416_1156070307750254_1734732197348032226_nThis is me; having realized that no matter how much of a writer, hippie, or bohemian I am, I am also a guy who enjoys success in business.

After all, you wouldn’t want someone else to judge you through a single lens or label, so why do it to yourself.

You are not this or that. You are whole. And to recognize the parts of you that exist seemingly in direct opposition to one another is the essence of wholeness.

The trick to happiness and inner peace, for me at least, is living in a way that holds the opposing parts together – not neglecting one or the other, but living in a way that honors both the billionaire and the Buddhist in me.

The Young Actuals of this world are those who understand that freedom is not meant to be wasted living a mass produced life in which we are at best imitatable – and at worst: miserable imitations.

For the Young Actual, to fear what others think is suicide; to envy others: insanity; for we believe in our own originality, and in the quiet intuitive knowledge that God was always only ever an archetype for man.

And, tired of living with the results of backwards myths, we have no Gods but our highest selves.

Our religion: the private experience of living a personal myth.

Our existence: a creative rebellion in which art is once again made loyal to man’s interior truths, through which the invidvidual once again hears her own inner voice.

For we are not products of the collective, but the producers, and the stewards of consciousness itself.


Young Actuals ethos inspired by Ayn Rand, Albert Camus, and Ralph Waldo Emerson.

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All, Journal, Personal Mythology, Writing

Ruminating 

Knowing now what I do, I face extrordinary dilemmas. 

The knowing I refer to, being the fact that all is possible within the governing laws of order and chaos. For even kings are subject to the laws of  nature. 

The dilemma being the fact that time and tide wait for no man. But ’tis better to set a false course than none at all; however, best to make sure. 

So that’s what I’m thinking about. 

Courses, possibilities, the call of distant stars; measuring that which is best to reach. 

Thirty is such an age when men may do these things; at least, for me, I have never before weighed possibilities out against the sands of time, as I now do. 

Age. The clock continues to strike, moving closer to midnight on some dreams than others. 

I can always be forty and build businesses – striving for the empire in which I can catch my reflection in the mirror and say fuck you, I made it to those who never thought I would. 

I can always be forty and American. It’s thirty that flees, reminding me, as I near closer thirty one, that I cannot dig these days back out. 

These are the years. 

There’s just something inherent within the power of choice I have today, telling me to choose wisely. Reminding me I want XYandZ in the coming years more than I want ABandC. 

I rounded out my previous entry with words on eating cake and having it too, but a man must know what brioche is – lest he spend his days chasing bread. 

I heard something in my twenties once to the effect of: how a man spends his days is how he spends his life. These are my days, this my life; am I chasing bread or baking brioche?

I had, until recently, a great and terrible freedom: no wife and no kids. Great for I had no ties, and terrible for I yearned for them. And, while I do not at present have a wife, I do have something akin to one. Thus, the terrible longing for a dearest friend is again over, but the other side of the coin shines light on new great and terrible truths. Great because I have ties – terrible for they are not yet bound. The second part, the fear, owing to the fact that I did not buy my wife as an established man does. She loves me for me alone, but I must make sure she knows what she is bargaining for. When a woman imagines marrying a writer, I do not think she imagines the verb inherent to the noun. Perhaps I ought come with a disclaimer: whiskey: yes, dinner parties: hopefully (Thankfully, the latter is still within reach). 

At the library where I work as a part time volunteer, there is a man who strikes me as very nice. Myself, being a writer, have of course invented – or at least invented in this moment – a story about him, for I do not know him well. The story goes, this nice man, being smart and more interesting than most, wanted to be a writer – he fancied himself so. Only, he did something else. Maybe a long romance, maybe a career in engineering, maybe both. Only, neither worked out beyond maintaining his lifestyle, which is to say, the quality of life he felt owed. So, at thirty nine or maybe forty two, he left the job, lost the girl, maybe a year of despondency ensued, but then he got smart and honest about who he was. So, he took up his library position, and started writing on those days off. And maybe he even wrote in the mornings too, only that didn’t last given the resistance of middle age to new habits. But just maybe he finished his book. Let’s say he did. So, he sends it to publishers, enclosed in the bright lavender envelope all the pipe-dream directed writing books tell you to use. Only, the book was no good. Watching 10 seasons of Law And Order in his thirties dulled his characterizations, and his story, about a guy who walked away from it all at thirty to write, was uninteresting at best. So tonight he lumbers into his apartment bed, bleary eyed from Netflix, and he tells himself, at fifty, I shall travel. 

Just maybe; it is certainly not an unbelievable tale. 

Thankfully, I am thirty – but still, the tale, albeit fictional, is not unrelatable for me. It’s a cautionary myth, concocted in my own head to remind me that time is the most precious asset I have. 

So I am here, writing and ruminating on the truest course toward the brightest star. 

Unfortunately, I’ve never been much for seeking or following parental advice, and the men I wish I could seek the counsel of, my grandfathers, are as stone dead today as they were upon my birth, which may in itself be telling, for the men in my family, excepting my father at sixty-odd years, have not been long for this world. Not to say I do not feel I am, but as much as I pine to one day be a grandfather, I’m not yearning for my seventies, nor am I excited about life much beyond the coming few decades, which, given my genealogical research, may be all I have left, making thirty middle aged for me, and deeper relating myself to the relic of a writer tale, which I mythologized above. 

Like I said, I am facing extrordinary dilemmas. Life is not one of those choose your own adventure stories in which all avenues may be explored without the immovable, chronological weight of time. 

Unlike the Duke Ellington record, which I now have gotten up to replay the A side of four times, my thirties are a one way ticket. No B side, no telling Sam to play it again. Like the beer I picked up tonight, it’s one and done. Thankfully, the beer is 22 ounces, and my thirties  ten years long. Only, I know I can’t be thirty six and be making a first go at sending off that lavender envelope. I know my story in the pulsings of my blood, and that’s not how it goes. 

There is another, well-known, mythologized tale of the would be writer. It’s the tale of the guy who always had that great screenplay or novel in him, but there was always an excuse. The timing was just never right to write. But then finally, it was, he had the desk and library (Ahem, both my library and my desk are absolute tits – thank you very much). Only, when he sat down to write, it was all in vain. His dreams were perhaps more of the noun and less of the verb – more dinner parties for ten than whiskey for one. 

Of course, as all real (See: published) writers will tell you, the timing is never right. The time to write is now and every goddamn day you consume oxygen on this bloody planet. Unfortunately most wannabes want the lifestyle rather than the life. 

I am reminded of the ancient words, imploring me to be rather than to seem. 

Only, it’s all very meta now; I write yes, but I am no different than one who writes Harlequin novels; it’s all masturbation and no nipple biting. I write about writing, yet I do not write as a writer does, I merely find secondhand outlet. And it’s all very tiring and unsatisfying. 

So, I’ll lumber off to slumber, knowing that at thirty one, I’ll be a writer. 

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All, Journal, MyFavoritez, Personal Mythology, Philosophy, Prose, Psychology, Self-Actualizing

Finding Excalibur: My Journey to Knowing Confidence in Myself and My Path

I have been following the muse in my sense of destiny and in my path of learning and self-discovery, awareness.

Yes, I have clear goals – clearer than ever – and yet, as of late, I have chosen instead to follow the muse rather than my goals; for my intuition is strong – stronger than it’s ever been. This I understand to be something of an act of faith, which has it’s place (Something I will touch on again); yet the more I follow my intuition – a kind of hybrid between faith and reason – the more I am led toward something more concrete, something that looks like an intelligent plan [1].

And this plan, as it comes together, feels almost like a reward, a relief – an end to one journey and the start of another.

It’s taken me a long time to rebuild trust in myself – trust I lost, and rightly so, simply via ignorance; for truth has a way of outgrowing itself, and life sometimes – in its process of upgrading you – necessitates a reformatting of your software, and in humans, this basically is the awareness realization (Often after failure) that we don’t know shit – or, rather, that our old paradigms are simply no longer valid. There just comes a time when the things we thought were true fail us – whether by our actions or those beyond our control; there just comes a time when our lives outgrow our understanding of life.

And so, if we are brave, we trust in the universe to deliver us through a kind of alchemical process of entropy in which we go through a chrysalis of sorts, returning to the ashes before we rise as the phoenix. To borrow the grandest metaphor of all, from Joseph Campbell, There is no resurrection without crucifixion. This is what I refer to as quantum change, a term I heard John Mayer use in a radio interview, in which he said something to the effect of, ‘I believe that we are capable of true quantum change, maybe once or twice in a lifetime.’ And I most certainly, no doubt, am undergoing – have been undergoing – such a thing. Go through my writing over the past sixteen months, and you can literally see it in the paradigms I’ve birthed and put to death. To me it’s nothing short of remarkable, because, really, you’re coming out of the other end a different person, but more you – and perhaps even the real you – for the first time in your life.

All that said, I know the end to my quantum change is near, and perhaps even here, for I know what the beginning looks like. It’s my goals – goals I possessed the desire but not the will or the understanding for. And this I know is a fundamental necessity in order to do them, to live them [2]. So it has been that I have let my goals marinate in the marrow of my bones down to the depths of my soul, where I ventured in hopes that I might find the will and the way.

This path was, I admit, largely one of faith; for what else does a man with nothing left have but that sense within him, that therein lies the pearl of great price. This is the treasure we seek, which, as Joseph Campbell tells us, lies in the cave we fear to enter. Thankfully for me, I had nothing to lose. And I don’t mean this with any measure of self-pity, which I know all too well, but, rather, in gratitude. This, I concede, comes in hindsight, but regardless, I am grateful. I smile on what seemed so dark.

But it was this darkness that led me to faith, and faith that led me to something more. Again the dots connected, as they only do in hindsight, but now I feel the dots are beginning to connect looking forward. Where then I only had a sense of my own destiny, now I have an understanding of it.

Ironically, I originally meant to write this to decry faith as something inferior to knowledge [3], but as I write think-aloud, I realize it was faith that got me here, which, of course, destroys my entire thesis, giving way to a better different one, which I suppose is more a conclusion; hence: the reason purpose for which I write.

Writing, in this way, is a kind of math, in that I arrive at – not forgone – but predestined conclusions. Facts, if you will, about life. For this is what all this journeying down my rabbit holes is about: solving problems. Chiefly, how to live my life as only I can live it.

Thus it is for my answers I write tonight, to reach that light at the end of my tunnel – the will and the understanding by which I can achieve my desires and live my goals.

That something more, which faith led me to, contains the truths I will use to attain the fulfillment of my desires. And these truths are all that I lacked, all my unconscious mind led my intuition to appercieve through experience, assimilating my perceptions into a consciousness capable of completing the tasks my soul has bestowed upon me; in a word, I lacked the requisite cognitive abilities to fulfill my mission.

Note: I understand these are concepts most people don’t live by, but in the vein of my heroes – as my spiritual grandfathers have – one ought to pursue nothing else [4].

My intuition, as I understand now, knew that in order to complete my mission, I needed some things I lacked, namely confidence and understanding, which I would come to find were directly related. It was, as I described above, through faith that I was able to trust in the process of quantum change to carry me here, to the following realization, which prompted me to write this:

The root of all confidence is in recognizing (Understanding), acknowledging (Internalizing), and developing (Pursuing) your potential.

This may seem simplistic and even recursive, and perhaps it is to a degree – as the above statement seems to say no more than the teachings of Marcus Aurelius, that the obstacle is the way. But it goes deeper than that, because if confidence is rooted in recognizing, acknowledging, and developing your potential, then the question that remains, is whether you posses the will required to do so.

And will, like the other factors in this equation of words, is something I have touched on recently – in fact, it is something I’ve only come to learn the value of this year, when I realized that life is a a game of potentials but it is won by wills.

‘Will’ – Synonyms: determination, willpower, strength of character, resolution, resolve, resoluteness, single-mindedness, purposefulness, drive, commitment, dedication, doggedness, tenacity, tenaciousness, staying power, “the will to succeed”

All this [will], merely comes down to our ability to believe in ourselves – to believe that we have the power to decide on our options, and furthermore, the capacity to act on them.

And this is where I began thinking of the distinction between belief, faith, and knowledge, when I set out to write this entry, because I realized that I had gained more than belief or faith in my ability to decide on my options – I had gained the power to decide on them, based on my understanding of my potential – a concept I only truly awoke to this year.

For once you have an understanding of your potential (Something that comes from altering your perception of it [5]), you can begin to shed the dogma that has trapped you for so long in what you believed to be reality, and once you do that, life takes on a new meaning.

And it is within this new meaning of life that you see the true limits of reality, by which you gain the understanding necessary to act on your options. In short, you really realize that the only limits of reality are your potential, and the only limits of your potential are your reality.

This is neither faith nor belief, but knowledge. And it is more than self-knowledge but self-knowledge gained by knowing the world around you is a human construct, and – in the words of Steve Jobs – ‘created by people no smarter than you‘.

And this palpable knowledge, based in your understanding of reality and your own potential, is such a palpable shift from belief, that no faith is required. You have, in fact, at this point, exited the tunnel and made the shift from self-belief as some esoteric faith based thing to something very malleable, which allows you to understand both your options and your capacity to fulfill them. And this is, in essence, self-belief confidence in it’s truest and most powerful form. It is the confidence that comes from knowledge.

So, it is not that faith or belief is inferior to knowledge, it’s that knowledge is true, whereas faith is the belief that leads you to it [6].

I used to think I had confidence in myself – and I am not referring to confidence as a personality trait or a social marker, but confidence as a precursor to ability – but what I really has was self-belief (Rooted in faith). I believed in myself. I believed that I could understand the things I needed to understand in order to pursue my desires confidently [7]. But now, looking back, I see that I really viewed confidence as some esoteric elite thing that we either had or we did not, and much as I tried to fake it, it never worked. Bunny would tell you, I tried to fake it, but there was a failure to launch. And in light of my newly realized confidence, which is, as I said above, rooted in a true understanding of one’s potential, I see that fake it till you make it does not work, for me at least; however, what does work is self-belief rooted in faith as a means to confidence [8].

The root of all confidence is in recognizing (Understanding), acknowledging (Internalizing), and developing (Pursuing) your potential.

Where self-belief comes from faith, confidence comes from knowing, from a true understanding of your options and your capacity to fulfill them.

At this point, the conclusions may have been forgone, but they needed to be written, as this is my path. I needed to mark this moment; for this moment is far more precious than any before it, given that I have my Excalibur [9] now.

This confidence, as I posses and understand it today is the sword by which I will claim my throne. This is the linchpin of my success that I have been missing. Lord knows I have the will [10].

From here my intuition is very clear on the remaining steps [11] before going full limitless [12] mode with my desires.

What’s next, wait and see; it’s only a matter of time.


Footnotes:

1. Whether it’s an intelligent plan or an intelligent design, or  – as I would be apt to suspect – a combination of both, I know not; however, I suspect my life will be, and is – for me at least – the answer to this. To me this is an esoteric question, one I likely do not posses the intelligence to answer; although, perhaps the wisdom and intuition to do so, which, as it is, I am attempting to by living what I feel to be a spiritual or inspired life. /irrelevantfootnote.

2. One’s goals aren’t to be done – they’re to be lived.

3. The original title of this entry was Confidence vs. Belief, which the following I had begun as a facebook post:

I think we place way too much faith in belief, in faith itself as capable of creating our reality. I think – spirituality and religion aside – scientifically and pragmatically understanding life as we are capable of living it, is much more powerful. Not that belief doesn’t have a place – but knowledge, knowing, is far more powerful. In a word, it comes down to confidence; I must have faith in belief, but I may have absolute confidence in knowledge.

4. Thomas Moore’s Care of The Soul is a fantastic book anyone looking for a deeper connection to themselves should consider reading. In it, Moore outlines what he believes to be the biggest problem vexing modern man: our lack of a connection to our inner world – and consequently ourselves.

5. I awoke to my potential via a shift in my perception, a worthy topic indeed, and something I may write on in the future – provided it is necessary for me [5.1].

5.1 More likely I will bake this paradigm shifting inducer into one of my novels, as these kind of intangible concepts do not translate well into non-fiction, or, rather, the narrative of reality in which we live is not big enough to present a new myth within [5.2]

5.2 This will all make sense one day.

6. The truth will set you free has new meaning for me.

7. Exhibit A, courtesy of Mr. Walden Pond himself:

HDT

8. My path is my path, but it is my hope for you, my dear reader, that the paradigms I present provide shortcuts through the wilderness you may find yourself in, standing on the banks of your own shores.

9. Great name for a yacht…

10. There were times in 2014, when I would work literally days on end. If I told you the hours on end I would pull, you would not believe me. But without the confidence, as I have outlaid above, my will was impotent [10.1].

10.1 That said, will is the foundation of the strength you will need on your journey:

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

11. Tomorrow I will revisit (read) my previous entry and in particular the link contained within the edit, in order to diagram my own reality and wants (desires / potential) with the models laid out by the author for ‘Elon’s Software’. And I will also revisit the notes and lessons from Napoleon Hill’s Outwitting The Devil, a book I feel contains some very complimentary insights into the attainment of my pursuits.

Edit 11/14/15: Just published an entry titled, Hacking an Open Source Cognitive Model for Goal Prioritization and Attainment, which contains a follow up to the link I referenced above on ‘Elon’s Software’.

12. Back in 2011, in my quest to pursue my own path to actualization, I wrote a series of entries titled, Real Life Limitless; however, at a certain point I feel I owe my readers a redo of this in light of all that I have discovered, only this time I will wait until the proof is in the pudding.

Note: Featured Image from Wikipedia Commons, Excalibur

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