Authenticity vs. Restraint.
Raw honesty vs. Wise silence.
Vulnerable looks in the mirror & expressing what’s been buried inside vs. Self-censorship in adherence with some belief system idealizing “positive thinking.
Does anyone care to look at /hear what actually lies in the shadows, or merely give lip-serve to “shadow work” and glorify “awakening” as though it’s all sugar-coated - versus the reality it’s more akin to the shattering of one’s rose-colored glasses and being maimed by the shards?
Oh boy, what are we in for here…
(Note: this post is likely to self-destruct… like all life on this planet once its time is up. And sure, just as everything may be stored in the akashic records, so will these words remain on the blockchain until the earth blows up or some shit. But no one’s really gonna give a fuck enough to ever go back and search for it, so it’ll be good as dust & ash, blown away by the winds of change, swiped away by the never-ceasing waves of emotions.)
I’m tired.
Not like the kind of tired that can be quickly & easily relieved by a good sleep.
More like the kind that requires death to transcend. Not necessary a literal physical death. Perhaps more a death of ego, outdated identity, expired ways of being, and every aspect of our psyche that would have us cling to who we thought we were and how we tried being in this twisted game of life.
I’m tired of all the fucking self-appointed internet motivational gurus preaching one-size-fits-all feel-good philosophies that inadvertently gaslights anyone/everyone who isn’t willing to override their own truth with some simplistic platitude that promises to end all suffering and bring eternal happiness for some low cost of four monthly payments and a testimonial of how yet another self-help or new-age “spiritual” cult disguised innocently as something else was the easy answer or magic pill we all wanted to affirm the delusion that we can "manifest anything & everything we want" as though life/God/universe doesn't have its own agenda that laughs in the face of our petty hopes, plans, and attempts to "attract" a perfect life according to the most popular cult formula of the time.
I'm tired of a world of people continually doubling-down on lunacy and condemning those of us who's seen through and stood up to the manipulation as "crazy conspiracy theorists" deserving of ostracization from society due to our values of stuff like, you know, human rights, transparency, logic, and freedom over dystopian, dictatorial rule.
I'm tired of the dysfunctional relationships with my creativity, seeking satisfaction in what I was once passionate to pursue only to have my body continually bring me to a halt, attempting "disciplined" approaches only to end up hating it, always in conflict with ebbs & flows beyond my control, feeling like I'm moving at a snail's pace the rare times I do somehow manage to find a groove with it and as though no one will ever actually fucking hear my work no matter how good it is. (The monthly Spotify reports notifying I've had 1-3 listeners per month isn't exactly motivating feedback.)
I’m tired of lying through my teeth or dissociating to robotically mumble “alright” everyone asks that stupid fucking question, *”how are you,” while really not even wanting to know, expecting some one-word answer equating to “great,” so programmed into this inauthentic social ritual that they’d look at you like a freak if daring to veer off script.
I’m tired of trying to motivate, inspire, persuade, manipulate, and force myself to “keep going” “after my dreams,” as though I was the same person who actually was super ambitious, had ‘dreams,’ and gave a fuck about “making a difference” or “doing big things” or was obsessively bent on all these future-oriented “visions” fuelled by “passion” which gave some sense of importance. I’m tired of half-living as though that kid isn’t dead and I’m not even really sure who the fuck I am anymore after running out of energy playing a character that was probably more based in conditioning than true heart & soul.
I warned y’all. If ya missed it, you best learn read how to read between the lines
I don’t like using the term “depression,” but if the shoe fits… welcome to my 2022.
People are quick to dismiss such states, so commonly uttering some cliché “look on the bright side” shit that totally dismisses the reality others are living in as though completely changing oneself is as easy as swapping out a profile pic. Yeah, it don’t work like that.
”Bounce back.” “Move on.” “Let go.” “Create something new that makes you excited.” “Follow your bliss.” Blah, fucking blah, blah.
So-called “spiritual” people talking about “shadow work” while turning around to cast judgement on people drowning as “toxic” or “negative,” self-righteously placing themselves above others for their ability to regurgitate dogmatic philosophies like “Law Of Attraction” wherein they can join communities deluding themselves into thinking they’re all the ‘masters of reality’ - all while turning a blind eye to the suffering a majority of the world’s is going through to preserve the cognitive bias enabling their dissociation & compartmentalization of all evidence that sometimes there is no choice as to what life delivers into our experience.
Reality-check: Emotional waves don’t work on the remote control of one’s desires & preferences.
Perhaps those who suggest “fake it ‘til you make it” with a smile just don’t have the capacity to feel as *deep as others, and therefore don’t get it.Perhaps we’ve all been so blessed & entitled in some part or chapter of our lives that we really never can put ourselves in others’ shoes to fully understand what another’s experience is like.
But these fucking waves, man… tsunamis sometimes.
There’s no fighting that.
There’s no “positive thinking” one’s wave out of getting swallowed by a force millions of times stronger than oneself.
And while all these feel-good philosophies that’d have us believe the universe is our personal genie - all while genocides, war, and horrific crimes against humanity beyond belief take place across the globe - might sound so lovely, enough experience reveals that the majority just end up being variations of some form of avoidance and/or distraction. So while we may try again & again to follow these ‘guaranteed’ strategies for manifesting “all you want,” eventually the resistance towards those emotional waves & tsunamis just depletes one’s energy at a rate that no amount of inspirational jargon can refill before the tank hits empty.
And the longer we try persistently push, the deeper the deficit drawn from depths of soul previously unknown. Real Scorpio territory. Not the G-rated fantasty backpage-newspaper astrology fluff.
Oh, the days when I used to be all optimistic, with dreams of writing inspiring books that’d help “empower” people. So long ago, before the veil lifted and revealed so much that knocked the wind out of my naive ass with such a force that there may never be a full recovery.
Some days, it feels like drowning. Others, merely like treading water… on the edge of a whirlpool - gaining no ground, only getting weaker with every stroke desperately cast in attempts of delaying the inevitable swallowing by this sea of emotion.
And maybe that is where the ’death’ is the way out. Real surrender (to the experience). No idea what’s on the other side, though perhaps the only way out of this cyclic loop there’s no escape from. Just fucking let go in relaxation to be swallowed by the experience, with whatever bit of faith can be summoned that God lined this moment up and something “better” has to await on the other side of that portal we’ve been so fearful of diving into in spite of how shitty this stale existence of exhausting treading has become.
Or should we just keep doing the same thing - following others’ ideas of how to approach such darker times - expecting different results after proving beyond the shadow of a doubt that all these cultural belief systems & models rooted in the old, decaying world simply don’t work for all people all the time?
(No, I’m not ‘suicidal.’ If I mysteriously pass in my sleep, it wasn’t by my own will. And I haven’t taken the injections, so wouldn’t be that either. Probably just loneliness - as clear by the haunting thoughts that IF it ever were to happen, it’d take weeks for my body to be found once the couple I’m renting from realized rent wasn’t paid, couldn’t get ahold of me, and asked someone to check in… someone who really wouldn’t even care and would just find it creepy. So if you were to die in your sleep and you’d be found within days by someone who actually cared and would cry for you… consider yourself blessed.)
Anyone still with me? Or too “negative” for y’all and would prefer the “shadow work” to remain shallow enough that no one fucking drowns when it gets REAL (deep)?
Maybe I’m “weak” cuz I haven’t been able to pull myself out of the lows of these emotional waves. Or maybe I’m human, experentially discovering the limits of isolation amidst a world going mad and what heartbreak can actually do to us humans.
The existential contemplations don’t stop… am I stupidly self-perpetuating these states as per “what you focus on expands,” or actually engaging in the “shadow work” and yet another “dark night of the soul” in some sort of cocoon period between my former life as a metaphorical caterpillar and some unforeseeable future one as a “butterfly?”
Perhaps all are true. “Quantum sea of all possibilities,” right?
Though to restrain myself from old habits of letting the head drift too far off into the clouds and ground back in the here-and-now, let’s lean toward the latter. Which feels appropriate - as though I’m just this blob of goo, the disgusting decayed mass of who I used to be, dysfunctional to either crawl or fly. (Does the creature in between the caterpillar and butterfly stages actually have consciousness of its own revolting mess? And/or if carrying over the metaphor to us humans, can we even accurate say that we’re the same person we were in the caterpillar stage -or IS IT actually a death process where some new being emerges on the other side once the cocoon opens in its own programmed timing?)*
It’s tough - if not downright impossible - to imagine what joys might await on the other side of that metaphorical hump, should it ever actually come. (I frequently question whether it will, or if this is just a purgatory).
It’s been over 2.5 years out now from the last moment of “happiness” I felt, seeing my wife’s face for the last time. It’s clear that no amount of crypto wealth or external comforts are going to fill the void left that moment part of me died. And I can’t even fathom the possibility of “replacing” her. Hell, I wouldn’t wanna touch any woman with a ten-foot pole who’s a “vibrational match” to these states - nor am I willing to fall for any classic traps of dynamics wherein there’s be any sort of subconscious attraction with motivations of being “fixed,” “saved,” or compensating externally for this lack of peace & satisfaction internally.
And meanwhile, at the limits discovered in these tests of extreme isolation, come the realization - to be accepted with immense humility - that we need others. The prideful “independent” ego may want to deny it, but I can honestly say from direct experience now: it’s a fucking sad, lonely life living without being surrounded by people you love and who love you - no matter how beautiful the prison cell of isolation and how many blessings you may have within it to be grateful for.
But anyways… who really cares?
And maybe rightfully so. With a limited amount of fucks to give, perhaps its wise to not disperse them to anyone who isn’t directly benefiting us in some way. Perhaps selfishness has gotten a bad rep while the fantastical idealization of altruism has been overdone, conditioning us to waste far too much of our precious life energy on others of 7 billion on this planet we’ve never met who truly aren’t worth our time & attention. So foolish me for taking it personal when feeling those emotional waves of no one fucking caring. Perhaps that’s just karma - or the way it is… Don Miguel Ruiz’s “don’t take anything personally” wisdom being well on-point.
And perhaps there is some crazy twist and happy ending to this nutso story of life… COVID having been a blessing in disguise to keep me away from going retarded fucking bargirls in Thailand as a distraction from the shadow work needed to face the shit parts of myself responsible for letting my marriage blow up - keeping me in a safe healing space in preparation for some new round of creative expansion with music and “new love” that’ll trump my last great chapters. Or maybe I truly am the toxic “master of reality” that needed to be quarantined away from the world (while billions paradoxically got gaslit into injecting themselves with God only knows what, ha, yo-k) - a time-out needed so I didn’t infect the entire world with my “negativity” and could take a breather to alchemize depths of pain beyond logical comprehension before stepping back out and “Law Of Attracting” something worse than the nightmare of tyrannical fuckery propagated on humanity the last two years.
I don’t fucking know. I honestly have no clue what the fuck I’m doing here anymore.
*Maybe one day, it’ll be revealed… and I’ll have something “positive” to contribute again other than this type of raw authenticity that’d have likely scared most people away by now interspersed with lies between the teeth of some socially-acceptable mask whenever asked that God-forsaken torture of a question, “how are you” to deter from imparting the asker with a genuine response that’d shatter their socially-conditioned mind frame like a handful of acid.
Blah, fucking blah.