Letho

[Letho]

 

Christmas Haunted Hospital and Lessons to Learn from the Carol Sphere:

The days here in the hospital are becoming increasingly indistinguishable even though this night at the haunted house of comic variation of Ghost Buster's has only just begun, as though time itself is quietly slipping through the cracks of the sterile walls around me, injecting bubbles into my skin on the strike of midnight forcing a floating to the ceiling for nurses in the morning to preach that they'll be reducing my medication from now on. The hum of machines, the distant murmur of footsteps indistinguishable from spiritual friend or foe, everything seems to echo with a rhythm I can barely grasp, each second passing as if it were part of something larger, something I can almost understand but can never fully reach other than to say that on the edge of all enquiry, humorous and otherwise, I deeply miss my father and I have no doubt staying in the hospital under the conditions I am including being back in my home country reminds me of my father's late stay much more. I can’t help but feel as though I’ve wandered into a space between spaces sometimes as I try to build a trench between my thoughts so I can take the time to reflect on what my mind builds, neither fully here nor entirely there, where the past and future bleed into one another, losing their distinct boundaries, and for me at least that's hardly glass behind glass I see myself from solely because of the medication; there's an existential yearning, a deeper spiritual closure I seek with my father, that we all seek with our loved ones concerning the movement of life as it departs from ours.

I find myself sitting with this feeling, tracing the outline of time, like someone searching for meaning in the fog sometimes as I stare out the window where there's a helipad not far from me. The silence presses in, and yet it somehow feels familiar, there's no chimney here but if Santa wanted to, he could come through the window here given there's helipad access from my window and yes, my adventurous side has certainly thought of it, both the child in me dares me while reminding me of early childhood memories of the looming Christmas and the films that surrounded, Home Alone Three was a big one for our family for many years; everything just felt.. special. Like home. The times of his times used to be not just generational but historically without this digital era, when it didn’t feel like something to be managed or measured, but something that simply was, in the same way our freshly cut Christmas tree simple "was", it didn't need to do anything it could just be the beauty of nature both in life and, following it's natural course. I can’t help but think of the years long past, before the weight of responsibilities and decisions started to press down on me. Back then, there was a magic to time, a sense of wonder. I remember Christmas from when I was a child, how the entire season felt like it carried with it an essence that couldn’t be captured, but could only be felt in the quiet moments leading up to the day where my younger redheaded sister and I would playfully fight over where we were going to sleep underneath the tree. I’d stay awake at night on Christmas Eve, we'd listen to Christmas carols and roast marshmallows in the fireplace, and then when put to bed  waiting for morning with the sparkling lights above we'd know something incredible was just around the corner, but not quite yet, we could feel my mother and brother moving about as elves placing presents around as gently as possible in the sacks and under the tree but still we held the dream within before it was spoiled. The anticipation itself was the gift, not the wrapped presents, not the food or the decorations. It was the feeling that the world was full of endless possibilities, each moment loaded with potential.

Time felt different then, in that simplicity and we were treated in that way as well. We weren't spoken to or posed questions like we were going to generate encyclopedic responses or write the next Frederich Nietzche in our following sentence, we just were like the tree, accepted with the flow of the rest of the environment in the way it unfolded like a story still being told. Each day leading up to Christmas stretched on forever, and yet, somehow, it never felt like a burden, it was an adventure, a slow reveal of something yet to come. The pine cone collection, the long walks and explorations in the backyard and neighbourhood followed by the 6:30pm ritualistic rich smell of dinner that would flow from the kitchen seemingly out to wherever we were far enough that it would grab our attention to return as dutiful soldiers back to our holiday barracks. I can still recall the stillness in the air, the quiet excitement that built with each passing hour. It was a kind of magic, the kind you can’t hold onto, the kind you can only recognize in retrospect. Now, I find myself looking back at that version of time, at the simplicity of it all, and feeling a loss. The thought of losing dad, mum or any of my siblings never crossed my mind as a possibility and reflecting on everything now makes me realise how oblivious and vulnerable my own love for everyone around me was. There was something undeniably beautifol about those years, before the world asked me to grow up, before I had to start keeping track of minutes, hours, days. Time became something that had to be controlled, regulated and responsible for, just to keep up with the demands of an adult world.

But even as time has sped up, there are moments when it pauses as I remember to take in my father's sense of humour and my mother's desire to cook a loving meal, when everything slows down just enough for me to take notice beyond own intellectual drunken stupor. Maybe those are the moments I should cherish the most as well, when I can just sit at a dinner table and laugh in hysterics with family and friends where my mind it's totally unpreoccupied with the next intellectual dilemma I'm trying to solve. It’s not the anticipation of something that’s coming, not the pressure to perform or succeeed during holiday times, but the moments that seem to hang in the air, suspended that really captures everything, that's when you know you can really feel safe and that, you've got everyone's safety too in your desire to protect them. Those are the moments that remind me of the Christmases I used to know, the ones where time didn’t feel like it was slipping away, but like it was something to be savored, that the rest of the world's didn't exist other than all of us around the same time of year co-contributing to the energy field of the spirit of Christmas. If I can’t hold onto the slowing of time while looking at my slowly evaporating marshmallow in my hit chocolate as a kid, then perhaps I can learn to appreciate it for what it is. Not as something to rush through, but as something to live through. To breathe through, a way to learn to rebreath is what I believe holds as something more on the other side of the lessons of Christmas for me to come that I look forward to.

I’ve realized that the rush of daily life, the constant ticking of the clock, can’t be avoided. It’s inescapable, even the clockwork here in the hospital. But there’s a kind of beauty in allowing time to flow around me without always feeling the need to control it, at least, that's a powerlessness I've just had to embrace while being here stuck in a hospital bed allowing me to a get a new perspective on consciousness in this period of the year. The struggle to manage each moment, each decision among all of us, there’s a certain exhaustion in that, a weight that seems unnecessary now even in its mastery. I think back to when I was younger, when life seemed so full of possibility, and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, the key to living fully is in letting go of the constant need to be in charge, at least to a degree. Instead of rushing to the next thing, perhaps I need to simply exist in the now, to breathe and observe, to take in each moment as it comes, without fighting against its current.

Sometmes, in the quiet of this hospital room, I find myself wondering about the path that has led me here. How did I arrive at this point, and what of it is mine to control? The noise of the outside world, the weight of the decisions I’ve made, it all fades in these moments of reflection. And in this space, in the absence of distraction, I realize that what I truly seek is peace. Not peace as the world defines it, but peace within myself. A stillness that isn’t bound by the ticking of the clock or the pressure of time. Time moves forward, granted, but it doesn’t have to drag us along with it at the speed it demands. We can choose how we respond to it. We can learn to let it pass us by, not with resistance, but with understanding.

This hospital room, this sterile space, feels both temporary and eternal, as though it exists in some place between those temporal gaps I brought up, almost as if I can slip through we extra-dimensions. I can’t help but see the parallels between this space and the way time works in my life, how my own mental exhaustion is the personification of the opposite I experience in existential limbo. Everything seems fleeting, but in those fleeting moments, there is such depth, such potential. I feel the surge to grasp it, but then I'm restrained by the physical calamity. The fleeting moments were the first thing I noticed upon my return to Australia, the obliviousness of the special expanse of time while simultaneously people were totally ensnared by its most rigid perception, the same dimensions I felt myself entrained in. The truth is, time doesn’t need to be feared or avoided. It’s not something that needs to be conquered. What if instead of trying to outrun it, we could find a way to embrace it, to let it carry us forward, to maximise our riding of the energetic waves we create together during our deepest moments? There’s an art to that, a subtle kind of grace. It’s not about letting time overwhelm us; it’s about understanding that we are participants in it, not its victims.

Perhaps it’s not the seasons or the milestones we count that make time meaningful, but the small spaces between those events, the quiet moments when the world seems to hold its breath, when everything feels suspended just long enough for us to take it all in. I think back to those childhood moments under the tree with my sister and playing with my next new toy with my brother's who's pretending to have a lot of fun, the quiet before the storm of presents, love and food, the excitement building, not in the external world, but in the space of my own imagination; there's both a longing there and a magic there that I have to appreciate for its force to truly empathise enough that the lessons can be learned. That was where time lived then, in the spaces between the clock’s tick, in the breaths taken before not just something new arrived but where we all got to arrive to one another, safely, lovingly and completelye free to be ourselves.

Time, with all its insistence, its forward motion, leaves us with a paradox from the mirror of Christmas, it is both the fleeting of moments of love held in memory and yet the eternality of its intentionality that truly make it beyond the materialism, where the materialism if anything, achieves what it setout, to be the mere decorations of what is a family and community ritual of love and cheer. And perhaps the only way to reconcile that paradox is to accept that we are not the masters of time in this sense as expressed, but its companions. We are not here to fight it, to bend it to our will, but to learn to move with it, to flow alongside it, in rhythm with its silent carol.

As I sit here in my hospital bed still, waiting for answers, I feel something shift inside me. Maybe it’s the recognition that time, in all its forms, its rushing, its pausing is a gift, not a curse. If I can learn to navigate it with grace, with acceptance, then maybe I’ll find something that has always eluded me, peace. Not the peace of stillness, but the peace of being fully alive, fully engaged with each passing moment, however it comes. And if I can do that, if I can truly learn to live in harmony with time, then perhaps I will finally understand what it means to live,  not just to exist, but to truly be in the way I know my father would want me to remember him. And as I reflect on all of this, I can’t help but wonder if this sense of time, this space between past and future, is something many others have felt as well in their reflections during this period. I don’t know if others experience time the same way, but there's a beauty in it the more souls that do who may just understand the rhythm, the pulse of it all. It's like, in the collapse of those gaps between space, it's another way you can resonate with another when you know they just get your experience. Time, in its strange way, always brings us back to the present. And here, in this moment, I find myself quietly thankful for the stillness, for the opportunity to reflect, and for the potential of what may come next, even if I am stuck in this bed awaiting my MRI results. At least they've hung Christmas lights and decorations around and if I'm here till Christmas, heck I don't see why someone like me wouldn't figure out a way to open the window to sit up on the helipad on the night before Christmas with a hot chocolate to help me get back to the early days of the night before Christmas. Now as for the energetic spirits I seem to be noticing and experiencing at night? Well I don't have anything Einsteinian there to surface unfortunately, and unless I get myself a Proton Pack which is what I believed they used, I'm stuck reminiscing old can-do Ghostbuster films to make it through the eerie night. And who knows, maybe there's something more at play I can integrate into my experience from their influence; open-mindedness.

All the best for the break.
 

[Letho]

 

So the cavernoma has been confirmed... 

 

 

[Letho]

I feel so blessed to have figured out that I was having seizures in such accommodating circumstances, my doctors never figured out why I was waking up in extreme pains over the last few years.

Well, I worked it out pretty quickly after I was alerted on Friday by a doctor that just happened to be walking by me at an airport where she saw me having a seizure bless her heart. 

It was the first time I've ever been informed by someone that I was having a seizure.

This seizure medication has already had a really positive impact on my mind in spite of the incredible lethargy that I've already reversed engineered a way out of, and a bit of dazedness as caught on the video just above but it's really no biggie. If you want I can link it again here if it's difficult to find. No really it's no trouble at all, I'd love to share the video again. Oh you don't want me to share it again? You didn't like it? You don't like my true self? You got offended? It's just a video. Or not 'just a video' as it's me in it but you get what I'm saying. Anyhow, I've been thinking of printing t-shirts for one of the certain freeze frames on that video if you're interested. Just sayin.

It's naturally irresponsible for me to share the kind of medication publicly, however needless to say it's radically altered the way I perceive my own mind in spite of the massive impact it's had on me and the fact that I've never taken drugs before outside a little bit of marijuana, antibiotics and some neurofen has only enhanced the impact. Granted, it's still going to be a learning curve in terms of overcoming side-effects however it's now led to completely new ways by which I steer my own development.

Anyhow I'm just going to replant this Christmas message here below to leave this journal in a good spot. It's a little ruminative but that's just the medication, it's now finding equilibrium so the worst of it is over, the rest of it is just up to building my own internal relationship with the medication.

Even though it's just a very basic medication, I'll never view my own mind in the same way again.

Yeah so, the medication has had a totally unexpected reboot for me.

All the best for this holiday break I'll be fine, Merry Christmas 🎄.

Stay safe, stay strong and... Remember your homeliest memories for this Christmas.

 

 

On 16/12/2024 at 5:17 PM, Letho said:

 

Christmas Haunted Hospital and Lessons to Learn from the Carol Sphere:

The days here in the hospital are becoming increasingly indistinguishable even though this night at the haunted house of comic variation of Ghost Buster's has only just begun, as though time itself is quietly slipping through the cracks of the sterile walls around me, injecting bubbles into my skin on the strike of midnight forcing a floating to the ceiling for nurses in the morning to preach that they'll be reducing my medication from now on. The hum of machines, the distant murmur of footsteps indistinguishable from spiritual friend or foe, everything seems to echo with a rhythm I can barely grasp, each second passing as if it were part of something larger, something I can almost understand but can never fully reach other than to say that on the edge of all enquiry, humorous and otherwise, I deeply miss my father and I have no doubt staying in the hospital under the conditions I am including being back in my home country reminds me of my father's late stay much more. I can’t help but feel as though I’ve wandered into a space between spaces sometimes as I try to build a trench between my thoughts so I can take the time to reflect on what my mind builds, neither fully here nor entirely there, where the past and future bleed into one another, losing their distinct boundaries, and for me at least that's hardly glass behind glass I see myself from solely because of the medication; there's an existential yearning, a deeper spiritual closure I seek with my father, that we all seek with our loved ones concerning the movement of life as it departs from ours.

I find myself sitting with this feeling, tracing the outline of time, like someone searching for meaning in the fog sometimes as I stare out the window where there's a helipad not far from me. The silence presses in, and yet it somehow feels familiar, there's no chimney here but if Santa wanted to, he could come through the window here given there's helipad access from my window and yes, my adventurous side has certainly thought of it, both the child in me dares me while reminding me of early childhood memories of the looming Christmas and the films that surrounded, Home Alone Three was a big one for our family for many years; everything just felt.. special. Like home. The times of his times used to be not just generational but historically without this digital era, when it didn’t feel like something to be managed or measured, but something that simply was, in the same way our freshly cut Christmas tree simple "was", it didn't need to do anything it could just be the beauty of nature both in life and, following it's natural course. I can’t help but think of the years long past, before the weight of responsibilities and decisions started to press down on me. Back then, there was a magic to time, a sense of wonder. I remember Christmas from when I was a child, how the entire season felt like it carried with it an essence that couldn’t be captured, but could only be felt in the quiet moments leading up to the day where my younger redheaded sister and I would playfully fight over where we were going to sleep underneath the tree. I’d stay awake at night on Christmas Eve, we'd listen to Christmas carols and roast marshmallows in the fireplace, and then when put to bed  waiting for morning with the sparkling lights above we'd know something incredible was just around the corner, but not quite yet, we could feel my mother and brother moving about as elves placing presents around as gently as possible in the sacks and under the tree but still we held the dream within before it was spoiled. The anticipation itself was the gift, not the wrapped presents, not the food or the decorations. It was the feeling that the world was full of endless possibilities, each moment loaded with potential.

Time felt different then, in that simplicity and we were treated in that way as well. We weren't spoken to or posed questions like we were going to generate encyclopedic responses or write the next Frederich Nietzche in our following sentence, we just were like the tree, accepted with the flow of the rest of the environment in the way it unfolded like a story still being told. Each day leading up to Christmas stretched on forever, and yet, somehow, it never felt like a burden, it was an adventure, a slow reveal of something yet to come. The pine cone collection, the long walks and explorations in the backyard and neighbourhood followed by the 6:30pm ritualistic rich smell of dinner that would flow from the kitchen seemingly out to wherever we were far enough that it would grab our attention to return as dutiful soldiers back to our holiday barracks. I can still recall the stillness in the air, the quiet excitement that built with each passing hour. It was a kind of magic, the kind you can’t hold onto, the kind you can only recognize in retrospect. Now, I find myself looking back at that version of time, at the simplicity of it all, and feeling a loss. The thought of losing dad, mum or any of my siblings never crossed my mind as a possibility and reflecting on everything now makes me realise how oblivious and vulnerable my own love for everyone around me was. There was something undeniably beautifol about those years, before the world asked me to grow up, before I had to start keeping track of minutes, hours, days. Time became something that had to be controlled, regulated and responsible for, just to keep up with the demands of an adult world.

But even as time has sped up, there are moments when it pauses as I remember to take in my father's sense of humour and my mother's desire to cook a loving meal, when everything slows down just enough for me to take notice beyond own intellectual drunken stupor. Maybe those are the moments I should cherish the most as well, when I can just sit at a dinner table and laugh in hysterics with family and friends where my mind it's totally unpreoccupied with the next intellectual dilemma I'm trying to solve. It’s not the anticipation of something that’s coming, not the pressure to perform or succeeed during holiday times, but the moments that seem to hang in the air, suspended that really captures everything, that's when you know you can really feel safe and that, you've got everyone's safety too in your desire to protect them. Those are the moments that remind me of the Christmases I used to know, the ones where time didn’t feel like it was slipping away, but like it was something to be savored, that the rest of the world's didn't exist other than all of us around the same time of year co-contributing to the energy field of the spirit of Christmas. If I can’t hold onto the slowing of time while looking at my slowly evaporating marshmallow in my hit chocolate as a kid, then perhaps I can learn to appreciate it for what it is. Not as something to rush through, but as something to live through. To breathe through, a way to learn to rebreath is what I believe holds as something more on the other side of the lessons of Christmas for me to come that I look forward to.

I’ve realized that the rush of daily life, the constant ticking of the clock, can’t be avoided. It’s inescapable, even the clockwork here in the hospital. But there’s a kind of beauty in allowing time to flow around me without always feeling the need to control it, at least, that's a powerlessness I've just had to embrace while being here stuck in a hospital bed allowing me to a get a new perspective on consciousness in this period of the year. The struggle to manage each moment, each decision among all of us, there’s a certain exhaustion in that, a weight that seems unnecessary now even in its mastery. I think back to when I was younger, when life seemed so full of possibility, and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, the key to living fully is in letting go of the constant need to be in charge, at least to a degree. Instead of rushing to the next thing, perhaps I need to simply exist in the now, to breathe and observe, to take in each moment as it comes, without fighting against its current.

Sometmes, in the quiet of this hospital room, I find myself wondering about the path that has led me here. How did I arrive at this point, and what of it is mine to control? The noise of the outside world, the weight of the decisions I’ve made, it all fades in these moments of reflection. And in this space, in the absence of distraction, I realize that what I truly seek is peace. Not peace as the world defines it, but peace within myself. A stillness that isn’t bound by the ticking of the clock or the pressure of time. Time moves forward, granted, but it doesn’t have to drag us along with it at the speed it demands. We can choose how we respond to it. We can learn to let it pass us by, not with resistance, but with understanding.

This hospital room, this sterile space, feels both temporary and eternal, as though it exists in some place between those temporal gaps I brought up, almost as if I can slip through we extra-dimensions. I can’t help but see the parallels between this space and the way time works in my life, how my own mental exhaustion is the personification of the opposite I experience in existential limbo. Everything seems fleeting, but in those fleeting moments, there is such depth, such potential. I feel the surge to grasp it, but then I'm restrained by the physical calamity. The fleeting moments were the first thing I noticed upon my return to Australia, the obliviousness of the special expanse of time while simultaneously people were totally ensnared by its most rigid perception, the same dimensions I felt myself entrained in. The truth is, time doesn’t need to be feared or avoided. It’s not something that needs to be conquered. What if instead of trying to outrun it, we could find a way to embrace it, to let it carry us forward, to maximise our riding of the energetic waves we create together during our deepest moments? There’s an art to that, a subtle kind of grace. It’s not about letting time overwhelm us; it’s about understanding that we are participants in it, not its victims.

Perhaps it’s not the seasons or the milestones we count that make time meaningful, but the small spaces between those events, the quiet moments when the world seems to hold its breath, when everything feels suspended just long enough for us to take it all in. I think back to those childhood moments under the tree with my sister and playing with my next new toy with my brother's who's pretending to have a lot of fun, the quiet before the storm of presents, love and food, the excitement building, not in the external world, but in the space of my own imagination; there's both a longing there and a magic there that I have to appreciate for its force to truly empathise enough that the lessons can be learned. That was where time lived then, in the spaces between the clock’s tick, in the breaths taken before not just something new arrived but where we all got to arrive to one another, safely, lovingly and completelye free to be ourselves.

Time, with all its insistence, its forward motion, leaves us with a paradox from the mirror of Christmas, it is both the fleeting of moments of love held in memory and yet the eternality of its intentionality that truly make it beyond the materialism, where the materialism if anything, achieves what it setout, to be the mere decorations of what is a family and community ritual of love and cheer. And perhaps the only way to reconcile that paradox is to accept that we are not the masters of time in this sense as expressed, but its companions. We are not here to fight it, to bend it to our will, but to learn to move with it, to flow alongside it, in rhythm with its silent carol.

As I sit here in my hospital bed still, waiting for answers, I feel something shift inside me. Maybe it’s the recognition that time, in all its forms, its rushing, its pausing is a gift, not a curse. If I can learn to navigate it with grace, with acceptance, then maybe I’ll find something that has always eluded me, peace. Not the peace of stillness, but the peace of being fully alive, fully engaged with each passing moment, however it comes. And if I can do that, if I can truly learn to live in harmony with time, then perhaps I will finally understand what it means to live,  not just to exist, but to truly be in the way I know my father would want me to remember him. And as I reflect on all of this, I can’t help but wonder if this sense of time, this space between past and future, is something many others have felt as well in their reflections during this period. I don’t know if others experience time the same way, but there's a beauty in it the more souls that do who may just understand the rhythm, the pulse of it all. It's like, in the collapse of those gaps between space, it's another way you can resonate with another when you know they just get your experience. Time, in its strange way, always brings us back to the present. And here, in this moment, I find myself quietly thankful for the stillness, for the opportunity to reflect, and for the potential of what may come next, even if I am stuck in this bed awaiting my MRI results. At least they've hung Christmas lights and decorations around and if I'm here till Christmas, heck I don't see why someone like me wouldn't figure out a way to open the window to sit up on the helipad on the night before Christmas with a hot chocolate to help me get back to the early days of the night before Christmas. Now as for the energetic spirits I seem to be noticing and experiencing at night? Well I don't have anything Einsteinian there to surface unfortunately, and unless I get myself a Proton Pack which is what I believed they used, I'm stuck reminiscing old can-do Ghostbuster films to make it through the eerie night. And who knows, maybe there's something more at play I can integrate into my experience from their influence; open-mindedness.

All the best for the break.
 

 

[Letho]

I have a responsibility to complete what I setout to do here, however I've still got a bit of work to fully adapt to the medication. I'll figure it out eventually. Just not entirely sure when this mind-body mechanism will adapt; it's pretty challenging. At least this humbles me. 

In other news, deciding on wife qualities has never been easier for men these days.

https://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/real-life/news-life/gold-coast-porn-star-shags-schoolies-team-gets-evicted-from-airbnb/news-story/9c226dfa4f6f35464f9fb892697ce72e?dicbo=v2-QG1kpvF&

 

I was so dazed from the incident and from the medication I kind of still am, so I never even bothered to get the details of the attending physician. She seemed like a normal woman. She taught me a lesson, after some introspection today I realised. It doesn't matter what ethnicity a woman is, what matters is her heart and consciousness development. In today's world, you need to minimise and prioritise criteria rather than either maximise or go with the flow, its paradoxical, you'd think you'd need a whole sleuth of things to vett through however in reality, you just need to identify cultures biggest problems and move in the opposite direction with respect to dating choices. Today it's cluster b personalities, especially those that are reactionary as in defense mechanisms which are the shadow variant of cluster b. Moreover it doesn't mean you vett for cluster b, instead you're just working to accurately scope the variation of empathy in someone. We've reached a point in society where because of our conformist behaviours, subconsciously empathy is actually being screened out rather than something you would normally just assume people look for, however because we're micro-expression screening organisms we're also unconsciously initiating micro-behavioral changes by the same indices, where before you know it, it's become the norm that empathy isn't even cared about perhaps even frowned upon within some social circles without the tribal group even being consciously aware of it to the point where if they were questioned on it, it would cause a chain reaction where there was some potential for redemptive change within the group, however for most cases in light of it only very rarely being flagged anyway, it would reduce back to the mean. 

So those are my two traits now, family and empathy and that's with friendships as well, I've mentioned family in the past. The two predict one another but they're both independent enough that it's rational to make accommodating shifts for both. Empathy is really the gold standard though to begin with, and it's just something everyone in light of today's culture needs to self educate themselves on as an intelligent reaction to unhealthy norms, like I'm a pretty savvy guy on this kind of stuff but I'm saying I need to work on the depth of my own system of understanding there, it's not easy. So everything now, a woman's intelligence, creativity, sensitivity, attractiveness, height, occupation, literally everything will be funneled through my own metrics for understanding the depth of how empathy 'behaves' in her versus where it doesn't 'behave' and why, it's also a fantastic foundation for how you understand someone as well. It's become so normalised now to not have our emotional needs met, it starts as a micro-expression that translates into micro-behavioral changes all the way to new broad social norms that characterise the limits of the humanity demonstrated to one another where said limits materialise it as mirroring something almost non-existent or arguably even a delusion. They've shifted from something that as a social norm partners as a whole culturally used to enjoy fulfilling to something that they treat like it's a job rather than a love to even not caring at all to being a complete burden.

I now hold myself to a new set of personal standards concerning social norms now that I'm more deeply aware of these cultural issues we have in the west, vetting every possible micro-behavior I can within myself to take responsibility for the influence that I have, it's also the only real power we have over the cultural situation but it's a lot of power the more we can exert this discipline over our decision making. It's a decision that leads me to consciously understanding that more and more I have to workout how to monopolize my own individuality, however by the same token, it's the illusion of freedom and individuality that got us into this mess, so by the same measure also re-sourcing the people I choose to have around me, trusting their counsel given they're in my life because of the fact they're trustworthy people, not because I've ignored and made excuses for unhealthy behaviours in the past or just behaviours that I just... Didn't fully understand. I hope my self-admission here empowers others to contemplate the environment of their own consciousness in the behaviours that it manifests, that in saying so they too have the power if they want to build the awareness to identify patterns within themselves and assert with their own authority and philosophy what they deem a positive versus a negative adaptation for their own development, in this case for example I would cite my own past aggressions as one example of a compensatory behaviour that developed as a consequence of not knowing how to regulate the environmental influences of my own consciousness and by the same token, execute the level of personal responsibility that I was certainly capable of and that we may never know we're capable of until we have someone reveal by their own example that they can indeed make a choice, that it's within their power to chart their own course in their personal development with slow, mature, incremental appraisals and not only the right social influences hut also the right judgement calls on where their own individuality fits in the larger collective picture; removing their naivety on power they don't have and expanding the accuracy on their level of powers they do have is one behavioral adaptation that can bring enormous progress in someone's development. I would also cite how in the past due to cultural influences I've felt the need to be more narcissistic than I actually am, these days now I am more than happy to just simply choose company where I don't feel the need to act in any way that is outside my own personal integrity towards the continual building of my own character.

As for medicine, wow, yeah this situation has coincidentally coincided in a strange way, I'm in no position to begin studies in 2025 and my GAMSAT scores will be valid for two years anyway, I'm just extremely grateful I did as well as I did to expand on my freedom of choice however at the same time, I don't think I've utilised that freedom as wisely as I could have in the past. For me, given Ukraine is not only not a wise decision for me early in 2025, medically I'm not going to get the clearance I need because of the epilepsy now and on top of that there's a few geopolitical red flags I'm still unhappy with concerning the conflict; becoming a medical doctor though long term for me just seems like a wise decision, including socially, and where for 2025 I will just focus on money, investment and preparing my mind in a way that I can strategize my studies to be as seamless as possible while living a full life as of course that's the biggest thing medical students struggle with the most during their education.

In sum, to make it in this world today in the sense where you truly live an internally rich life you've gotta figure out a way to enjoy the process of going inside of yourself, objectively sorting out your own patterns and then like a surgeon, removing or even adding in carefully thought out behaviours that simultaneously you can do while still feeling in alignment with your true self. To do that though you've really gotta take complete ownership over who you are and what you're creating from moment to moment and that's super difficult for a lotta people especially when so many good people as well struggle when it comes to personal awareness. The best advice I have in that regard is just to be honest with where your struggles are and then socially, being honest with where there's influencers that either positively or negatively encourage the wisest movement forward for someone and making the judgement call there that's going to be within your wisest interest there. We don't get to choose how we're born or what we're born into, however, even in spite of any cavernoma your brains already moulded it's adaptations beyond, don't ever let anyone especially yourself convince yourself that you can't choose the patterns for how you proactively respond to the world. We design our own limits in as much as we're unaware of them, we get designed inside the gap of freedom we give the external world to run a muck; don't view the external as an enemy, no, it's a collaborator now and this collaboration has standards that need to be met that you won't fall below just as much as you don't accept any less, in this case, a translation of cultural vetting into familial design intelligence into responsible consciousness self-engineering; that's what's going to design the life self-authorship otherwise hidden foreground that's usually kept from view to something that's instead replaced by unconscious and unhealthy reliance on micro-cultural patterns.

All the best for the Christmas holidays everyone 🎄.

 

 

Edited December 19, 2024 by Letho

[Letho]

Right into New Year's Resolution, yeah no messing about:

Become the richest person in my country by the end of next year.

I literally didn't give a fuck about my wealth yesterday, however as of today even though it's been looming in my subconscious for a number of months now, I am worried about my own future freedom, including the future freedom of people I love. So it's as simple as off-setting that. And yal know how much I've talked about that being an entrenched ideal in my genetics. This is probably going to be like my Bangkok run, I'll just make it to Phnom Penh but fuck, at least I'll make it to Phnom Penh by the end of next year and something will have to perhaps physically stop me from going any further as what happened with immigration heh. And it's pretty feasible.

Thought I'd just jump right into it, get folk thinking about how they're going to step into the running tracks before Jan 1st. 

I'll start sharing my own financial creativity in January sometime after  Eleftheria/MemVinci. And please remember previously noted disclaimer for all intensive purposes concerning all my share here. Without expressing it in my journal just privately criticise the fuck out of me in a way that advances your own critical thinking haha, as the stuff I'll be sharing will be advanced so as long as you're doing it in a way that's self reflective you'll only be advancing yourself and it'll drive your own passion to serve your own freedom in the right way.

Heh, I love this journal space. I'd personally hate for my journal or any journal I have to go viral in any way, I prefer anonymity but I love a small flock in the right temperature to just share my mind without any hayfever.

Love yah and Merry Christmas, sincerely, just go have a fun bash 🎄🌎👌. Find the love, find your own personal new years resolution to run out the gates with before the years beginning.

 

Best Light.

 

 

Edited December 21, 2024 by Letho

[Letho]

 

Meta-Awareness of Biological Responses: Surfing the Horizonal Analysis of Sentient Evolutionary Triggers. 

An African American, 6 Police Officers and... Me.

The human mind, especially when one attains a certain level of introspective mastery, begins to function in a manner that transcends the limitations of ordinary cognition. What I mean here is an acute meta-awareness that I'm presently meta-cognitive of, feeling the unique sensations of it wash over unusual metamorphoses of my consciousness in the creation of the egoic joint avatar of me moment to moment, an awareness that doesn’t simply acknowledge but actively tracks and unpacks the biological, cognitive, and emotional responses to external stimuli, resonating with evolutionary imperatives embedded deep within my physiology, flames above and surrounding the fire I cannot fully describe the colour to the contours of.

This meta-awareness, is like feeling into new waves to surf in the ocean that could overcome me in any moment and swallow me whole, while at the same time remaining an area of deep fascination, an intrigue that forces pausation to discover deeper... Causation... In the moment of its experience, transforming the mere cascade of evolutionary responses into an analysis that reaches a consciousness convergence that generates novel enlightening experiences I haven't experienced before, turning the seemingly trivial into the ineffably indescribable I can speak about to no one other than.. in this journal space here. Meta-awareness is still a juncture, a translation from train station to mastery of all its railway tracks, that's far from either complete or traversed, as the vastness of the biological mechanisms and neurobiological impulses underlying my human to "evolutionary human" behaviorally is far more intricate and nuanced than any simple narrative could capture, or that I have understood yet, and whether any heights I've traversed of "extra-human" is either human, "evolutionarily human" 🧬 or both, is still not fully determined. Regardless, like a tiger staring back on itself like a predator, my continued observation of these internal states allows me to peel back layers of sentience that speak to something beyond mere cognition, the primality of self-aggression on my own self-awareness , evolutionarily encoded in the double helix of my self-gaze, still accessible at higher consciousness when observed with the right sniper scope and protective tension.

Presently, I am bound by one of those seemingly mundane scenarios converted into an ineffable aggressive self-awareness. My observation of a group of six uniformed officers surrounding an African American man in a public setting. On the surface, this is a typical interaction, the kind that happens daily in urban environments. However, what is significant is how my own body responds to the array of biological stimuli that convert typical to symphonic at the right temporal timing, the core of multi-layered meta-awareness. Immediately, upon perceiving the situation, my biological responses begin to register. These responses, often visceral, deeply felt in the body before any conscious thought emerges, trigger an anti-authoritarian reflex. This is not intellectualized; it is a reaction, an instinctual urge to challenge authority when I witness what I perceive as an imbalance of power or an unjust interaction beneath the horizon of conscious articulation that on the surface, just looks like a guy, in this case me, casually walking by.

The biological impulse to defend the perceived oppressed, in this case the African American man, manifests almost immediately in my body. It is the activation of a fight-or-flight response, an ancient evolutionary mechanism designed to prepare us for immediate action in situations where survival or social justice is in question. The emotional instinct, an almost involuntary sympathy for the oppressed, flows through me. There is an urge to step in, to somehow intervene in the perceived injustice.

However, upon closer examination, I notice the second wave of biological response triggered by the unfolding scene. The African American man, although clearly restrained and handcuffed, exhibits a form of confrontational defiance toward the officers. He taunts, provokes, and attempts to assert himself in the face of authority. At this point, my biology shifts subtly like a string of piano notes cascading from high to low and low to high interesecting thunderous yet subtle raindrops. The initial anti-authoritarian instinct is now tempered by another biological response, a defensive reaction toward the police officers. Here, my sense of empathy oscillates between two impulses, two mediational points inside the greater theatre of my own self-observation, both neutralizing and activating my desire to protect, defend, aggress, discern... Observe. The evolutionary tendency to protect the underdog collides with a biological readiness to defend the social order, the officers in this case, who are part of a law enforcement system that I simultaneously respect and see the weaknesses of and thus am vigilant of all mediums of how my communication could play out here.

This conflict between impulses is not purely cognitive, it is biological in nature, a direct consequence of the various instincts that we inherit from evolutionary pressures, my surge of my gut tempered by the slow hum of my heart that's sultaneously grounded in the desire for love. On some level, I understand cognitively that the antagonism I feel toward the officers is irrational, that the confrontation between an already restrained man and those who hold the power is likely to lead nowhere constructive. And yet, my biology resists this understanding; it is not enough for the higher cognitive centers to override the biological impulses that exist within me. They are primed to protect, and the biology doesn’t differentiate between context, it only responds to perceived threats and the balance of power.

Now, what is fascinating is the level of awareness I am able to bring to these biological shifts. The very act of observing myself in real-time, monitoring how my own biology responds to this external event, provides rich insights into the evolutionary underpinnings of how I experience not only human sentience but the consciousness experience of meta-awareness altogether in expression through sentience; where am I on its universal spectrum and isn't it beautiful that this seemingly anti-fragile experience in the trivial can be simultaneously experienced with the innocent naivety of wondering about where my experience lands on this sentient spectrum? I am keenly aware of my body's reactions, the untouchable stretches of my consciousness within the safe limits of human experience,  watching for subtle nuances that reveal the deeper evolutionary currents that govern what we myopically contain with categories like... feelings and thoughts. This level of meta-awareness of biological processes, the awareness of my own bodily response to the social dynamic, enables me to step outside of myself to a degree that I suppose many would find difficult to see beyond the denial and subsequent dissonance of doing so to the point where it's counterpoints results in parameters that open up a new consciousness bandwidth for them to explore and self-realise themselves through . I am no longer simply acting on impulses; I am observing the impulses in meta-temporal "human time", analyzing their origins, and dissecting their evolutionarily grounded nature, observing all of us simultaneously creating our avatars through our consciousnesses and evolving simultaneously with those changes in real time.

Continuing my observation, the tension becomes even more palpable. The African American man, having been physically subdued, continues his verbal defiance. The police officers, at this point, remain remarkably controlled at different indices of personal dignity, their expressions betraying traces of annoyance and frustration, subtle shame to dissociation mediated though through hours of trained process. I can sense the power dynamics at play, how the officers, despite their physical control over the situation, are being subtly humiliated by the man’s taunts which makes me want to contain the African American, I notice a meta-simulation of how I might do so accordingly coupled with the bewilderment of imagining the police officers reactions to my doing so. There is something subversive in his actions, a challenge to their authority, even if he is now completely incapacitated, there is freedom in his desire to be aggressed upon further that he can manipulate in future interactions where he courts his own delusional defense.

At this moment, I notice a subtle shift in my perception. The biological readiness to defend the officers, which had previously been tempered by a deep compassion for the African American man’s perceived plight, is now accompanied by an even more complex feeling, an almost psychological detachment, a growing sense that the situation is less about the individuals and more about the wider systems of power they represent as manifestations within this universal time lock that separates us from every other temporal lock on the earth at this moment, this... We share uniquely together. As my biology continues to shift, I begin to further observe the subtlety in the interactions. The subtle cues in the body language of the officers, the way they position themselves, the slight changes in their facial expressions as they handle the man, even the way they speak to each other provide me with valuable insights into how dominance, submission, and social hierarchy play out in these moments of high tension.

The deeper I watch, the more I begin to see the interplay of complex evolutionary dynamics, and the deeper meta-questions that surface beneath my cells synchronistic concert of self-observational activity that's somehow, a double sided gun. On a biological level, the entire scene is a microcosm of the battle for dominance that occurs in many social interactions, in many areas of my consciousness. The aggression exhibited by the African American man is the expression of a threat to the social order, while the officers’ restrained control is the manifestation of their dominance, and their external dynamics and my watching, an analogy for how I linguistically now describe how the vying for dominance inside my consciousness hierarchy plays out between my internal processes. My own body oscillating between sympathy for the underdog or in part, underdogs, and support for the social order, trying to reconcile these conflicting impulses through a cognitive awareness that allows me to disarm some of the emotional charge of the moment.

As the interaction unfolds and the officers begin to move on, I continue to monitor my own biological responses. Simultaneously, my body is primed to be confrontational toward the officers, a protective impulse triggered by the anti-authoritarian stance I take toward any perceived abuse of power. However again, curiously, I also find myself instinctively sympathizing with them, a biological reaction I cannot entirely suppress. I exchange a simple gesture as one police officer walks past me after I had situated myself already only meters away, an expression of mutual recognition, an acknowledgment of the shared social dynamics that exist between us despite the tensions of the situation, for whatever reason they welcomed my close proximity in spite of my own internal conflict that was barely externally visible.

This moment, which appears to be a trivial social exchange, is, in reality, a complex interplay of biological drives and evolutionary instincts across all of us. My awareness of these drives, my ability to observe them as they unfold, places me at a unique vantage point not just on the interaction, but from the projected future looking back from multiple reference frames for how it could have played out compared to if I had of just continued walking onwards without the unique interplay of emotions to sort through in understanding my responses through the night of the interaction. By monitoring my own responses, I gain insight into the deeper forces at work, forces that shape how we not only perceive others and how we react to authority, but also how sub-drived like the biological imperative to protect, defend, or challenge is expressed through our sentient awareness juxtaposed with this not only being a shared disposition but one that you may also have conflict with at the same time if it played out that those that were paid to serve and protect for example, went up against a citizen that felt the same consciousness reward but by his own volition against one or more of them.

In this way, the seemingly simple act of observing my own biological responses in this social situation becomes a profound exercise in meta-awareness so much that it becomes skin to the ecstatic rise I feel when improvising on the piano across many scales of emotional juxtapositions, revealing the underlying evolutionary architecture that defines the very nature of human interaction and the complexity of moral and social judgments where sound meets emotional symphony and meta-awareness, the simultaneous navigation and creation of meta-causation where subtext, becomes the entire plot of the story.

The surf continues... but the ride is just beginning...

 

Hoping everyone is enjoying their Christmas Break 🎄 🌏!

 

 

Edited December 23, 2024 by Letho

[Letho]

 

Question to self - answer before the end of the year to start January 1st under: How do I break into the unfathomable neuroplastic limit on a daily basis in ways that make my previous day of living the limits of consciousness absurd?

Deeper consciousness within I ask myself, answer this for myself by the end of the year and do so as humanely as possible in a way that brings a newfound dignification to my honouring of the human spirit as soon as the sun is lowest in the sky when each new day begins.

 

[Letho]

 

 

The Intrigue of Unseen Potential that together we uncover in Oneness between Writer and Reader, is there not a more perfect title as a gift I offer the reader for this Christmas?

Writing is an alchemical act. It takes the raw material of existence combining moments, emotions, fragments of thought and transfigures them into something sublime. But what is this sublimity but an echo of our own alignment with the creativity of our reality? Is it not merely a heightened awareness, a rarefied perception that imbues the ordinary with profundity for what else does the capacity to translate experience to symbolism to stories to philosophy upon our experiences that we mature beyond the enlightenment of? I often think that writing, at its core, is an exercise in seduction with the essence of existence in navigating our understanding of reality, the seduction of an idea, the beguilement of truth, and, above all, the enchantment of the self by the self, as a passage of learning, an alchemical act that is also a physical poem in motion that teaches us to not only self align but find alignment with all the selves of reality; a singularity.

There is something intoxicating about the interplay between absence and presence in writing. A sentence is both what it reveals and what it withholds, between temporal antiquity and the stretch of time that moves all the way to the end of the universe; it is the whispered promise of meaning just beyond the veil of the obvious, again the physical and the metaphysical, what we know of the self that seems obvious and everything we attempt to synthesise to higher levels of integration of all higher selves. And in this movement of revelation and concealment, as the writer we become a kind of sorcerer, conjuring realities that did not exist before the act of inscription, for not only the reader but onto ourselves as we attempt to read reality, ourselves and the 'other' in our act of writing. So the sorcery is hardly unilateral then, it is a partnership, a covenant between the language of reality and our honing of our communication with it in the mastery of our transformation within it via the intensity of our own listening in the creative process.

I write not to explain myself but to extend an invitation on this Christmas day to be inspired to write, a step into my hidden depths that I myself am still learning to navigate and, perhaps, to find my own shadow as a mirror of your own. For is that not the essence of connection? Not the merging of identical souls but the delicate interweaving of distinct, irreducible singularities. The writer and the reader are strangers meeting in the twilight, their words a shared fire flickering against the vast darkness of the unknown.

And yet, the act of writing is inherently solitary in the loudness that we simultaneously attempt to announce ourselves through the written word. It demands a retreat into the self, a willingness to dwell in the silences of one’s own mind while being simultaneously consumed by the multiplicity of our own multidimensional awareness. There is a paradox here, for the writer must inhabit at the very least a dual consciousness, an eye fixed inward, the other outward, and even here I speak in naive simplicity for the greater chaos that lives beyond this safe edge. To write well is to become both the observer and the observed, the sculptor and the clay and so many other dual analogous arrangements I can creatively interconnect here. It is a kind of existential tightrope walk, balancing the private and the universal, the ephemeral and the eternal.

What fascinates me most about this process is its capacity to transform the mundane into the miraculous as I attempted to mirror two posts ago on this page of my journal, where once we learn to convert the 'trivial' into the 'amazing' we simultaneously learn how to self teach ourselves the process of mastering this communication we have in every moment with reality, the mastery of the deeper language that brings everything we see before and within us... In motion. A moment that might pass unnoticed in the flow of life, a glance, a gesture, a half-heard phrase, 6 police officers, a handcuffed African American and a citizen with an overly protective heart beat in hyper-vigilance of our joint consciousness multidimensionality... becomes, in the act of writing, a portal to infinity. We as the writer and the reader train ourselves to see not just what is but what could be, what lies dormant beneath the surface of the visible, including memories that we can learn to see anew, teaching us to transform how we see the future, aka the coming new year and your next evolution to come. This is not merely a skill; it is a way of being, a mode of existence that privileges depth over breadth, essence over appearance.

I wonder if, in writing, we do not seek to capture life so much as to transcend it. To write is to step outside the linear march of time, to freeze it, stretch it, and infuse it with layers of meaning that it cannot possess in its raw state. It is an act of defiance against the tyranny of the fleeting, a rebellion against the erasure of memory. In this sense, every piece of writing is a declaration of immortality, a refusal to be forgotten.

But immortality is not the same as permanence. Writing, like all art, is an ephemeral immortality. It lives as long as it is read, as long as it resonates in the mind of another. And this, perhaps, is its greatest power, its ability to bridge the chasm between individuals, to create a shared reality out of the solitary imaginings of the self.

In writing, I am most aware of the fragility and the strength of human connection. A sentence, a paragraph, an image, they are gossamer threads, delicate as spider silk, yet capable of withstanding the weight of worlds. To write is to trust in this tensile strength, to believe that the fragile web of words can hold the weight of meaning, emotion, and experience, from symbolism to the Great Pyramid of Giza that civilisations far into the future still admire to this day, secretly teaching us to not just admire the admirable but to convert the simple into great consciousness architectures of mind that we hold in just as high esteem in the way we convert the simplicity of our experiences into our own personal works of internalized art, etched in memories we hold sacred, to teach us what it means to honour the sacred and hold this as precious in our moment to moment learning of actions, learning to boldly act... the symbolism for what Christmas is meant to be the celebration of, socially, interconnectively.

What is it, then, that drives me to write with all this journalling I've been doing? It is not merely a desire to be understood, though that is part of it. Nor is it the pursuit of beauty for its own sake as I am still obviously learning to understand what beauty and its creation means, though the aesthetic pleasure of well-wrought prose is undeniable. No, the deeper motivation is something more primal that runs in my veins, even more deeply than this protective instinct on the sacred, more urgent. It is the need to map the contours of my own existence, to chart the uncharted territories of my inner world. Writing is my compass, my sextant, my star chart. It is how I navigate the vast, uncharted ocean of the self in my connection with the deepest aspect, the deepest source of what makes reality; reality.

And yet, the self is not a static entity. It is a shifting, evolving mosaic, a kaleidoscope of experiences and emotions. To write, then, is to capture a moment in the flow of this evolution, to crystallize the fluid, to hold the unholdable, and learn through my growing philosophy I've denoted as Temporalism how to reach not only back and fourth through time but also how to do so multidimensionally. But this act of crystallization is not an end in itself. It is a means of understanding, of seeing more clearly, of being more fully, of moving deeper into what I have described earlier regarding my notions of fluid solidarity, and understanding that with its feminine opposite, a woman I know I will one day be united with.

I hope I have now fully relayed how there is a peculiar alchemy in the relationship between me as a writer and you as a reader. To read is to enter into the writer’s world, my world,  but it is also to bring one’s own world into dialogue with it, as in, I am learning as I expressed, how to construct it as I share it and my experiences with you. You as the reader are not a passive recipient but an active participant, a co-creator of meaning, a co-author with me and too in your own sharing of your writings here. And in this act of co-creation, something extraordinary happens, the boundaries between self and other begin to blur, again, a learning of how to transform the trivial into the incredible, and in their ordering, we have the ordering of a purpose driven existence.

In writing, I strive to reach this point of blurring, this dissolution of separateness. I want my words in my journal to be a bridge, a threshold, a meeting place, as Christmas and it's reconciliation contained within its celebration is meant to be. I want them to resonate not just in the mind but in the heart, the gut, the soul. For writing, at its best, is not an intellectual exercise but a visceral one. It is felt as much as it is understood, lived as much as it is read. To write, then, is to live twice, ourselves fragment with each word chosen and joined together again at the completion of each sentence and so in our sentence, we work to solve the self alignment problem with reality in our mastery of the sentences we choose as an echo of our deepest truest selves. It is to experience the world once through the senses and again through the multidimensiinal imagination and greater consciousness we are learning to integrate deeper and deeper with each well intentioned endeavour. It is to take the raw material of life and not just reshape it, reimagine it and reframe it but to find out final transformation, our chiseled deterministic destiny in the scope of the free will granted to us through the growing of our awareness. And in this act of deliberate reshapiing of choice through awareness, all of our selves find deeper integration, the one we meet with and through the one, becoming both more and less than we were before. More aware, more attuned, more alive; less certain, less fixed, less bounded yet, more deliberate; wiser.

This, I think, is the true gift of writing and what I hope I have successfully imparted to the reader on this Christmas Day, its ability to transform not just the world but the self. An act of creation that is also an act of recreation, a way of becoming more fully oneself by becoming something other as we learn to merge with the self by learning to merge with the other and vice versa; the purpose for division of internal and external altogether, to learn how to merge and become one, again and again; in mastery.

And so, I write. Not because I have answers, but because I have questions. Not because I know who I am, but because I am endlessly curious about who I might become. Writing is my way of exploring the infinite potential of being, of stepping into the unknown and finding it familiar. It is my way of saying yes to life, in all its complexity and contradiction, its beauty and its terror.

To those who read these words, I offer not a conclusion but an invitation. Step into this unknown with me as we head into 2025. Wander its corridors, lose yourself in its shadows, and perhaps, in doing so, find something of yourself. For writing is not a solitary act, nor is it a solitary gift. It is a shared journey, a mutual discovery, a meeting of minds and hearts across the abyss of time and space.

Let us find our temporal motion as you slowly see me fully craft my philosophy of being, then. Let us write. Let us live. Let writing be our alignment with the truth of existence, and the truth of each other.

The Will to Write to Freedom.

🎄 Merry Christmas 🎄 

 

 

Edited December 25, 2024 by Letho

[Letho]

 

It can be really difficult to review the past entries to our journal. But the difficulties of our emotions we have the courage to confront is the measurement of the satisfaction we will experience felt from the sovereignty of our ego integration that follows from the conversion of that same courage to perseverance translated to wisdom on our compass of freedom that prefaced our endeavour to begin with.

 

When in doubt, chop more wood. It makes the arms strong and you're preparing for the winter, in this case for me, the whole of 2025. And that's precisely what I'll be doing over the next week as I've had a massive void to fill following my hospital stay over my seizure and the slow adaptation I've made from the prescribed medication. 

A lot of things are not up to scratch in my personification of existence and I make no excuses for myself, there is a deadline I must meet in my own evolution and I missed it following the seizure at the airport where I was right on the cusp of shifting to the next level while hit with COVID; a lesson on the paradox of sorrow and humour in triumphant destruction meeting, a new path of well... now as we've seen... reconstruction.

Empathy in the western world is immaturely discarded or regarded because there is not the mature intelligence to balance the essence of its solidarity with its fluidity. Empathy is the internal university, our own personal professorship on the construction of our morality, and it's intelligence overlap, the responsibility towards the creation of consciousness limits being a mirror of our moral limits.

 

To this end, I am still learning to fully integrated my temporal self, created here: 

Something where we learn to define the phenomenological limits in intersecting self-ownership, social responsibility and overlapping empathy in guiding our maturity over the intelligence of our sovereignty through a simple practice of:

1. Re-read

2. Go for a walk while integrating the memories of our journalling experiences

3. Synthesise 

4. Re-map 

5. Act with the courage of the voice that had the Will to Write to Freedom.

6. Re-write analogously the self back into existence in the creative way of your own personal choosing and by that same exploration of spectrum in analogy, rinse and repeat.

 

True empathy encompasses mind meeting with matter where mind also encompasses heart and the rest of our nervous system we learn to integrate for more profound responses to all of life as an echo of our deeper life within, as above so below so below as above, this rinse and repeat action is a guide for self-empathy in motion. And so we integrate, is so we transcend, is so we learn to shift a justifiable grimace on the past from one context into sacred sentimentality in the next as we learned to translate this juxtaposition from empathy to responsibility to wisdom to... Love... In True Action.

 

To surmise, approaching the end of the year will thus be my own bonfire in celebration of this journal through its synthesis, converted into its full remapping for 2025.

Stay empowered and self blessed for your blessed selves for the rest of this Christmas period as we dare into the approaching new year.

 

 

[Letho]

6 hours ago, Letho said:

 

It can be really difficult to review the past entries to our journal. But the difficulties of our emotions we have the courage to confront is the measurement of the satisfaction we will experience felt from the sovereignty of our ego integration that follows from the conversion of that same courage to perseverance translated to wisdom on our compass of freedom that prefaced our endeavour to begin with.

 

When in doubt, chop more wood. It makes the arms strong and you're preparing for the winter, in this case for me, the whole of 2025. And that's precisely what I'll be doing over the next week as I've had a massive void to fill following my hospital stay over my seizure and the slow adaptation I've made from the prescribed medication. 

A lot of things are not up to scratch in my personification of existence and I make no excuses for myself, there is a deadline I must meet in my own evolution and I missed it following the seizure at the airport where I was right on the cusp of shifting to the next level while hit with COVID; a lesson on the paradox of sorrow and humour in triumphant destruction meeting, a new path of well... now as we've seen... reconstruction.

Empathy in the western world is immaturely discarded or regarded because there is not the mature intelligence to balance the essence of its solidarity with its fluidity. Empathy is the internal university, our own personal professorship on the construction of our morality, and it's intelligence overlap, the responsibility towards the creation of consciousness limits being a mirror of our moral limits.

 

To this end, I am still learning to fully integrated my temporal self, created here: 

Something where we learn to define the phenomenological limits in intersecting self-ownership, social responsibility and overlapping empathy in guiding our maturity over the intelligence of our sovereignty through a simple practice of:

1. Re-read

2. Go for a walk while integrating the memories of our journalling experiences

3. Synthesise 

4. Re-map 

5. Act with the courage of the voice that had the Will to Write to Freedom.

6. Re-write analogously the self back into existence in the creative way of your own personal choosing and by that same exploration of spectrum in analogy, rinse and repeat.

 

True empathy encompasses mind meeting with matter where mind also encompasses heart and the rest of our nervous system we learn to integrate for more profound responses to all of life as an echo of our deeper life within, as above so below so below as above, this rinse and repeat action is a guide for self-empathy in motion. And so we integrate, is so we transcend, is so we learn to shift a justifiable grimace on the past from one context into sacred sentimentality in the next as we learned to translate this juxtaposition from empathy to responsibility to wisdom to... Love... In True Action.

 

To surmise, approaching the end of the year will thus be my own bonfire in celebration of this journal through its synthesis, converted into its full remapping for 2025.

Stay empowered and self blessed for your blessed selves for the rest of this Christmas period as we dare into the approaching new year.

 

 

 

I won't be taking my medication again between now and the end of the year (only).

I simply won't have the cognitive horsepower and the rest of my being on side to go to war here on the synthesis of these last four months of my jour am and all of my life experiences otherwise; a mapping I must complete in full service for both what has come before and what I will create fully into 2025.

It's truly deeply broken my heart that I have to cement the decision to not go to the Ukraine now because of my epilepsy and the risks this poses for the lives I would swear to protect if I decided to go in spite of the geopolitical strategic dissonances that I will still resolve there regardless, and this is just one of many other universes I need to spiritually answer for before January 1st begins because my medication right now, is still making me feel like a zombie and I simply cannot think mathematically to the level I not only must but that I must further still creatively before the years end to create a clear path for how I will heroically march forward on the redefining of that heroic path.

I will live this war within between now and the end of the year and I will do so in as wise but as ferocious of a way possible, with a smile on my face, and accomplish what will seem on the face of viewing the final product, the final entry for this journal, as the impossible.

Return to the previous two posts as a repeat of my final farewell on the rest of this year, remember to learn to live it only to what is your personal highest calling, not mine, I am just a mirror, and I am learning from yours too, thank you. I am grateful for all the experiences I have been able to share over these past four months and I will be grateful for the universe in my unity with it granting me with the creativity between now and the years final end in delivering my final fortitudinal synthesis here as we step into the new year.

Best Light.

 

 

Edited December 26, 2024 by Letho

[Letho]

Everything's coming along beautifully now. Ego integration is the hardest but most important part. Devotion, is a personal promise... In motion. Our experiences set ourselves up to convert integration into change and change into evolution. Best Light.

 

[Letho]

 

The Sacredness of Fragility Self-Illuminating Higher Mastery: 'Pushing' that Ego Integration Envelope

So yeah, I know I've been ignoring the emotional weight of the impact that having closure on my epilepsy has had on the rest of my own philosophy, something that I have even overlooked in my 'ego integration' mission, something that I suppose if someone had been looking down on me from the tallest beautiful 1000 year old oak tree on earth, could probably predict following the patterns that emerged following my journey from Ho Chi Minh City to Phnom Penh. Last night I became even more aware of the visceral impact that pre-existing outgrowths  have had that emerged as a survival response to overcoming those challenges as well, i.e. yes some re-emergence of aggression, something that upon realising I've been able to trial new innovative ways by which I navigate the relationship between my awareness and the rest of my cellular structure and how my agency finds itself in that multidimensional field, one of those being the temperance that has followed from renewing this resolution I was building while on my running challenge. Giving me a different aim on these final few days of introspection on the past few months and the rest of my life in building not just in the easy leaning into my theoretical mapping on the future but my emotional alignment and allowing the raw essence within to speak as that vision, a level I discovered more of during my running challenge while also being redeemed by my theoretical side as well, finding overall, a complementary balance inescapable. 

I sat last night in the quiet company of my fragility in contemplation of those complementary opposites to as my own surrender to my inner source, that tender aspect of the human condition we all strive to master, yet rarely embrace. For so long, I believed strength was found in dominion over emotions, over limitations, over life itself, it's what I learned and admired from my father so much. In integrating these past few months it's clear I've sought an unattainable perfection in transcendence, shaping myself into a fortress of frustration at times going back to earlier entries in my journal on "Reality Esteem vs Self Esteem (or as a correction I'd say Ego Esteem instead of Self Esteem; contextually at least)" I made on two hours of sleep, that remember, I was doing all of this living out in the wild without anything but the bare basics and less to bring a greater permanence on the challenge itself; a part of me I feel, underneath, it was my way of being more attuned to my father's spirit. The universe as we know revealed to me in its strange wisdom following entries I made on the 'spiritual significance' or just straight out wishful thinking to put it lightly I don't mind hehe, of being hit repeatedly in the same eye, reminding me that the cracks I felt in that fortress were not imperfections or evidence of its failure but its most sacred offering. Fragility is not weakness; it is truth. The truth that has taken me months to ego-integrate into deeper wisdom now in relation to my own journey of self actualization, to be able to take so many different samples of my own consciousness from acting like a fool to a sergeant to a philosopher to a theoretician to now trying to find this humble more enlightened medium that at the very least, bridges everything together from not just intellectual synthesis, but emotional resonance that brings a greater peace to my own journey moving forward. One thing I've learned in the past few days is that emotion is not an object but an effect following the activation of the centres within our body and greater being with our awareness being the centreing point and our ego that 'animorphs' going back to my very first entry in this journal, into the combination of illusion, strength and weakness in the formation of our ego avatar, that surfaces just slightly above the horizon of our deeper connection within to a deeper reservoir of truer, deeper self.

Epilepsy... the word alone bears a weight, doesn’t it? It speaks of instability, vulnerability, and unpredictability. And well, yeah, as much as my unconscious has partly attempted to hide it, it's brought a new fragility to my examination of my existentiality that I can't just Will my way through with Force, instead, I've now had to go back to the drawing board where I mature the parts of myself surrounding a deeper finesse with my own human spirit and the rest of the fibres that makeup my own essence; deepening the sophositication of their intercommunication to find a new pathway forward, kind of like how you can't just run through thorny bushes naked, instead if it's possible, you have to learn to do so at the upper limits of self coordinating... First vulnerability, because you've spent so much time pushing aside things you didn't have to deal with and with that deepening magnification and the insight that follows from that, then the fragility of accepting where you were ever so slightly incorrect in your judgement in order to embrace the new maturing pathway that reflects a deeper mastery, in this case especially, obviously the flow of energy within the entirety of my being, and developing my sensitivity to communication with that. A more nuanced approach is needed on my self introspection so that I can reach a higher level of inner communication that allows me to achieve a level of self-regulation on my epilepsy that renders its potential problems, obsolete. 

Epilepsy announces itself without warning, disrupting the rhythm of life. For years I've wrestled with it unknowingly as if its symptoms were an adversary, determined to figure it out with doctors having no idea what was happening to my body, never giving it a label as they never thought to do brainscans, so I've only known dominance of the chaos it brought. But chaos is not the enemy; it is the fabric of existence itself attempting to find order as a natural maturity that follows sentience. Chaos is the pulse beneath the stars, the trembling breath of creation, so to any god prior to me if we use the interrelationship between goodness and sentience here, how is it organic for me to respond any differently? Now that I have certainty on the conclusion that it's been epilepsy I have struggled with for years, in this finality that has up to this point been completely hidden from me, by not only what justification but what tool could I say is even adequate to betray myself from first spending the time towards self mastery before I fully cave in to recontinuing my medication?

What I have come to realize is this. Fragility does not diminish us. It reveals us and for me by honouring the consciousness within, a new way through the thorns now emerges. Not just where I give it a label and throw some meds at myself but a target by which I can aim, study, strategize and execute against, at least to show myself the self-respect by trying giving my past achievements. It is in the moments where control slips away, when our carefully constructed facades crumble. That we encounter the profound beauty of being human, and as I shared in my Christmas message, in at least one way, I feel thats the purpose of living a human experience, that 'Mastery is our becoming'. So I don't see Epilepsy as a flaw in my narrative but a sacred chapter, a reminder that my journey is not about mastery over life but intimacy with it in that mastery. I'm able to sit in that giant oak tree with anyone looking down below noticing those predictable patterns and say, "Hey yeah I kinda see that too, good observation", and pivot. A lot of life, even though it's extremely painful, is about making extremely painless pivots; painless, when we trust our awareness. It's self sight, self reveals a deeper flow. And that's another level of what I realised last night, I have this shifting now from force to a deeper more nuanced power, and yeah I have that book being recalled right now in this moment, I read it a few years back heh.

To share one’s fragility is to invite another into a sacred space, however if we don't acknowledge the sacredness of that space or the beauty of a deeper mastery that can arise by acknowledging it, we won't at all treat it like a sacred space and we won't at all be able to use our awareness to self-reveal its deeper depths to open way through those thorns, and well... We definitely won't at all want even anyone sitting up on that 1000 year old oak tree spotting our flaws from above much less sit up there beside them nodding in empathic and internally resolved strategic agreement. I get it, trust right, so how do I journal so openly? Because it's about a deeper self trust. Its not an act of weakness but an offering of profound trust in ones own self awareness, that's when the hidden walls in the darkness begin to reshape, the thorns begin to slip away and light through the tunnel of consciousness begins to open up and well... All of a sudden that ego integration that initially felt hard, rigid and even angry at times... Finds a new fluidity that isn't just from denying the integration that needs to take place by slipping into... 'A deeper way'... Whatever that way is that we've achieved self-insight on. When I speak of my epilepsy, I am not confessing defeat; I am inviting connection from myself and a deeper level of life all around. For in these moments of vulnerability, we don't have to diminish, we can expand in a way where the field just opens up and the thorny bushes just disappear and you're like, "Well what the fuck? Well alright then. Next step." 

When I think of everyone here, there's so many reflective minds that I've partly missed due to that forceful nature within, that now, I'm learning to grow into a deeper will of flow within and so, more and more, everyone's minds reveal themselves to me at another level. I love being able to appreciate more how others observe the intricacies of their own existence and that of the world around them, there's an unusual normality to it which transcends my past reflections through that more forceful gaze. I now better see how people understand this sacred space. People that embody a courage that complements the maturity of this space of my mastery. Reflecting a truth I am still learning, that our humanity is not in our control but in our surrender, and in that moment, that's when the personal eye, and the universal eye, overlap and the truth of reality better unveils its beauty.

We live in a world that idolizes strength, achievement, and unshakable confidence, but these are illusions. Strength is not found in the absence of fragility but in the way we honor it. To be fragile is to be open, to feel the wind as it moves through the cracks and carries with it the whispers of the infinite through the branches, leaves and essence of that thousand year oak tree; to experience its presence as a gift by slowing down, pausing and recalibrating, which is what this time of year is for, a time to strip away the extraneous, a chance to stare into the eyes of one another face to face before the years beginning without the slipping away of the midyear rush that we'll find ourselves in again next year. To face the truth of and between ourselves under the growing light as we prepare for the slow sunrise of the new year. The night of this full year is almost over and I can feel the birds chirping about to begin and the roosters are only just slightly about to open their eyes but the cows trots are loud enough to start to disturb their slumber. And for me, that's enough time to seize the moment post seizure pun intended, where the noise of life falls silent and I am left only with breath, heartbeat, and the gentle reminder that I am still here. To that end, moving forward into next year I leave the reader with an invitation into a deeper level within themselves, to transform fragility into sacredness and sacredness into the will of their being. Their is the vigor of my 'Will to Write to Freedom' mentioned above as I shared on Christmas day, but then there is the mastery of that softness of that will to freedom, where even though I obviously gave myself I think a little too much props for being struck by a motorbike head on and continuing my run the next day, forgive the driver by the way he was just a bit aimless I suppose, it allowed me to reach this moment in my writing where I've been able to find the beauty in its opposite. To see fragility not as a burden to be borne but as a treasure to be cherished is one of my deeper lessons in ego integrating these past few months and more just as much as its opposite, where together, there's that balance between fluid solidarity I've brought up a few times in my journalling now, and that everyone here in their own unique way, is signalling a path towards my greater mastery of. So I extend that invitation towards owning that which is already within yourselves even more as you have revealed to me, to go through the cracks, the spaces where the light gets in. And know thyself. I know everyone's journey has had its own fractures, its own moments of motorbike collisions and epileptic uncertainties. And yet, here you are, a reflection of your own personal resilience, curiosity, and grace. You, too, understand that life is not about perfection but presence. Not about control but connection. So here's me saying that I know you see me on that thousand year old oak tree, and I'm sitting up there with you now too, and I'm making adjustments. Oneness. Singularity. The sacred and therefore, the to be honoured.

Still a lot more to 'ego integrate' by the years end. I've got a few creative angles I've been opening up different spaces within, find and own yours; your sacred space. Your love.

Best Light... Best Love.

 

 

And by the way, some oak trees believe it or not can exceed 2000 years of age. And the oldest trees, fuck. Over 5000 years. I am no archaeologist, paleontologist or dendrochronologist the latter being the kind of historian that works with trees but for me it's like, if we are still messing up GPS's and google maps, how are we so confident on the dates of these things heh. I kid you not while I was manager of our late hostel while visiting in Thailand I discovered Google had listed our address incorrectly and it was impossible to have it updated during my stay there haha, I established creative workarounds but. Oh and the tallest oak tree is the Muir Oak located in California by the way standing at about 40 meters, and I'm sure yal have heard of the tallest? Yeah the Hyperion standing at about 115 meters heh, again California.

 

 

 

Edited December 28, 2024 by Letho

[Letho]

 

Heart, Preparing Future Family for the next 25 years, Hello and Goodbye Nigeria, much love. Consciousness Integration over Ego Integration... and Bioelectrical Connection.

Still coming to terms with everything I've expressed in this journal, not going to judge it just 'ego integrate' or rather what I think is actually a better term, 'consciousness integrate' heh. 

My lack of acceptance is purely a measure of the level of fragmentation, which is purely normal, most of our sense of disgust/related in culture outside of its genuine truth alignment is a measure of our cultural fragmentation which we are a measure of.

I feel a tiny bit of shame even though I was just fooling around (but only in part at the time) when I said I didn't want to have children with someone part Asian as they weren't as strong on average as 'westerners', alluding to the fact that I had a bias towards certain ethnicities over others. My step mother for example is Chinese and she's been one of the most positive female influences in my life.

My seizure at the airport really changed everything when I experienced the aid of a western doctor that was also preparing for their own flight as I expressed. She was not at all of strong/right build, however her heart just blew everything else away that I experienced and hence why I did the backflip in now solely prioritising the heart of a woman. And, I realise that in a very literal developmental sense pertaining to in part the science around the site I've shared numerous times throughout my journal heartmath.com .

Last night this was further magnified when I had an absolutely beautiful Nigerian (so of dark skin) woman court me in the waiting area of a building. She's a nurse, sings in church and came to the city to visit her sister who she's been having trouble with to celebrate Christmas with the rest of her family. We would have spoken together for about two hours, we had good chemistry however now I only follow my deeper intuition on these things where although I've now changed my perspective as well with respect to potentially marrying someone of darker complexion, when she went in to make physical touch with me and we bonded in this way I didn't get the right genuine electrical charge I'm now looking for in a woman.

Following my project on bioelectrical agency, being able to kinesthetically sense and feel into the rest of her bodies energy is just something I'm now tapping into with all people much more greatly. So yeah, the physiological readings to take things further with her in spite of her beauty and forwardness, were not there but I still liked her a lot. The fact that we both sat the GAMSAT this year as well was a big coincidence, I feel like centreing myself more and more on the truth of the future pertaining to what I've been envisioning regarding family is just revealing amazing opportunities and interactions that were not available to me before.

I know in my gut that I will have my first child within 2-5 years and that isn't going to be with another being where that deeper energetic alignment isn't there, and I now more than ever trust my progress in being able to make the right physiological readings and assessments here through touch bioelectrically and otherwise. Over the next 2-5 years I will be devoted to prepare both my first child and my wife for the next 25 years, so I am hyper-focused on making strategic intuitive judgements that are for the benefit of my child not just my relationship with my future wife, prioritizing a woman's empathy, family competence as a logical vetting combined with that intuitive alignment now. We both grew a lot from our experience last night and both were really happy we met one another. However slightly, it's still a significant shift now in more than one obvious area with respect to how I newly judge and envision relationships of all kinds. Sending love to her and wishing the best.

'Consciousness integration' aligns as well with the deeper nature of self that we know exists within us where it's more following consciousness integration that ego integration results, to the point where the idea of 'ego integration' actually feels a bit redundant. Consciousness integration is the snake shredding itself own skin growing into a new form whereas ego integration is a snake biting its own tail, one of the reasons why a lot more space and fluidity opens up with the focus is on consciousness integration over ego integration. As that's kinda the whole point, as consciousness opens so too does the distance between experiential consciousness and experiential ego, where insight in the gap there is proportional to corresponding ego integration, first formulated though via consciousness expansion, which is always going to be better strategized if you make consciousness integration the predicate as it'll just open up more space and potential therein for you to work with.

So I don't care anymore. Any ethnicity. Any build. The heart...

 

Edited December 31, 2024 by Letho

[Letho]

 

Fuck it. There will be no new journal. 

It goes against my philosophy Temporalism.

Every slide of my former self, who's centrepoint makes this present moment and at their various intersections of experience gives me creative juxtaposition to renew my own lifeblood of consciousness no matter my environment, provides me with quantum indices by which I reformulate the energetic origination of my intentionality, to cast a new stone to skim against the Mobius strip of Schrodinger's many universes waters while holding the sacredness of the past not as some overly linear dualistic weight nor as outgrown sentimentality but as a basic appreciation of prior learning positions that are honouring the movement of the mastery towards this one and my many alternate future selves looking back from here.

As an analogy only, just for me like I love and respect other people's paths but I just don't care if people see old pictures of me hugging a teddy bear as a kid or misinterpret that I still hug a teddy bear. I'm pretty sure I've made teddy bears a thing now in the journal section, hey you think that's quantum weird? Do you know that we can now pass objects through solid matter now? Even though that's true in the literal sense, it means I honor the sentience's which view my journal with the intelligence that enables them to pass through cultural lines to interconnect these differing pages of my journal towards their own creative individuation. Let all the mirrors break, see the void that you're screaming into getting white noise as feedback and make peace with the present moment with the hallelujah it's the new year folks let's just keep moving focusing on what truly matters 😜❤️. Overall I will not allow my future self to be codependent with the subconscious choice matrix of those readers that are still maturing their inductive and deductive reasoning compass when it comes to their social to individual discernments, especially when the reading of my journal should be treated with something that is honoured on their part for the fact that I am crawling out of my disco owl cave to even give a "Hoot". Love yahs but ha! And I still love my Ted, by the way, my first major scruff, yeah his name was "Bluey", pretty sure my third eldest sister 'did something bad to him' before I cried my way to my stuffed pup that had no ears. I remember them both vividly, my younger sister and I would crawl around in the attic that was filled with my elder brothers and sisters old toys and just so many items my mother stored away because they were in her eyes too valuable to throw away and it was never going to be the case in her inventive mind where there wasn't going to be a creative use for them in the future. And well, that's kinda how I feel about my former selves which my four month ago self is now isn't he along with all those other selves that made it to this point right heh? A venn diagrammatic mixing and matching of sentimentality paired with frustration turned into the sacred to be honoured fuelled by the intelligent wisdom on their purpose driven existence. That kinda wraps up the year here aye? As a kid I felt ghosts as I crawled up the staircase and ran across the hallway of our second floor, these days even though there's sometimes that it's mostly inside other people in sense them and as a reflection from that I just try to remember for myself that in the absence of all internal ghosts we rid ourselves from we only have the badass light of life! 😘

Happy New Year rockers.

 

 

 

Edited December 31, 2024 by Letho

[Letho]

Holy fuck this is exciting my neurons are now FINALLY just starting to come back following the Royal Melbourne Hospital! Ha! A happy new year, only one that hasn't drank out of my mates heh. Blueberry Coffee is my savant brule! Fuck yeah! Math hairs are now beginning to sprout again from my skin. I've got a notepad, a pen, a campfire and mates that are looking to drink into the morning, pretty sure the creativity is just going to get flushed out of area 51 between now and when we finally head to bed heh!

[Letho]

 

Yep, we're now definitely going to Puerto Rico (deleted that post before), Time to Welcome the... New Year.

My mind needs a silent refuge to recalibrate the patterns of my own consciousness, to monitor discordances in my ambitions and all life relationships to ensure the depth of my alignment with the end of 2025 goals. That being said, I'll rendezvous in this space April 1st with integrative synthesis on the previous pages shared then as a step out of the puddle here of Jan 1st and ensure that my consciousness is well and truly into the ocean depths of preparing for the surfacing of my desired accomplishments by the years end for 2025, it'll be the opportune moment to properly introduce Temporalism side by side its practical applications to the full healing of my own epilepsy, another strong reason for me to execute responsible prudence to side step any potential haphazard tea leaf approaches that you might catch on an episode of the comedic television series Seinfeld.

I want ALL of my epilepsy and all things causative to this completely zipped up by Feb 1st for example, ensuring it can't either legally or illegally live under any false illusions of a rental agreement on my being either biologically or psychologically. Want however is very different to the physics of its own intentionality which I am of course forced to become my own doctor on remedying it's solution and swift sweeping off the the porch of my consciousnesses home. Not to mention the study of the physics of the world's intentionality outside my genuine goal of becoming the richest person in Australia by the end of the year. Well, it'll likely be similar to my Bangkok run heh but that's alright! I'll make it to Phnom Penh and that's enough for me to prudently prepare my extended family and future family far in advance. The physics of my own intentionality is one thing to get right something I've made considerable breakthroughs on since introducing the beginning of its depths on page one, ensuring that internal mission is synchronised as well as congruent with the external happenings of a slowly built post humanism society that the masculine of love must stand up against by leading in positive example, is another thing and all of us, relative to our own unique developmental destinies, are boarding a train whether we like it or not to a similar train station, the decisions we all make everyday more than any other year will matter more than any time in history and will undoubtedly change the course of how history plays out for the next hundred years, you can make my word.

Well, let's put down the marble horoscopic ball for a moment and level the feet on the football ground to just say I've really appreciated using this space to communicate my thoughts following everything that's happened since dads passing. Thank you to everyone, irrespectively.

A new start now. And a new start for April 1st.

What I'll do is:

Share my final integration of these pages as stated on April 1st and we will make that the last post of this page of the journal while properly introducing 2025 directions on page six. And that's not so bad, spending the first month of my year in deep integration on the previous year in light of what I'm trying to accomplish this year is a wise move in light of everything that's both been a struggle and that I've accomplished; a consolidation of momentum as well between February and April is the wisest advice from one of my best friends who's worth a few more wise millions than me, so I respect his guidance for my path. And yes as I mentioned two posts ago, this post is to finalize my anti-codependency with my own journal here ha 😉 (it's very much the case of the following in some instances isn't it? 

But hey, that's life. And everything... With or without, interdependently or within... Will be fine my fellow sentience's, the universe will remain here or its cousin far deeper and beyond us. Smile.)

All the best, stay strong, put your future safety and protection first and last but not least, if you're up to this stage learn to self-educate yourself, so don't read any books or listen to anyone unless they're truly providing a deep understanding on the how, why, what, where, when and who of love. Think of any theoretical conception I've shared in this journal or Leo in his videos and multiply that by a thousand, only now even I'm just beginning to understand love and the depths of its epistemic implications for being, universe and their non-separation not relative to our very human lenses but through our sentient perspective; sentience is  metaphysical self-awareness, but what else is it, truly under our razor thin unity achieved so far between the science of the universe and the science of being? Well, that's at least for my contemplation for the rest of January to share that as a part of my unification on the last four months, if you want to join me in that silent wondering along church halls with monk clothing for the first month, you're very welcome to, looking forward to ringing the uno-emotional bells here April 1st. And that's a new term I just created right now to add to my independent language box ha, uno-emotional is now my emotional world that returns to and integrates with the deep theoretical grounding in the universe further then inspiring the sentience of my energetic precision motivated in the disciplined unification between agency and universe. That's where I've done a full turn now in the genre of my own existential development, "Wipes away those Seinfeld tears" as some of this journal has certainly needed to only very partially be a semi-sitcom for my own growth in connecting soul with souls without the cringefest of the other social media dependencies. And now, finally as I've been communicating about all along, the undisputed, unofficial reclothing into Temporalism in completion of my earlier expressed meta-ascendance goals. Yes, Temporalism provides a wrap and yeah, maybe a little rap later down the track in proper introduction, concerning my mappings of meta-ascendance, at least, for my level of development; clever readers connecting Temporalism with Tempo and combined with music with epilepsy would then understand that I actually find as previously shared, epilepsy to be a blessing as it's simultaneously forcing me to creatively bridge ego consciousness with the greater levels of my wider consciousness, theoretical distinctions which I partially alluded to now three posts ago.

Learning. Wisdom. Self-trust. Love.

Best... Temporalism? It's not going to catch on as quickly as my number 13 jerseys number granted but hey, with the right branding right... Heh.

Depth. Breadth. Consolidation. Momentum into 2025. Stay on your north star. Know it.

And honestly, don't we need a present day Seinfeld to parody present day social media with Jerry's genius pithy everyday observations? To me, and just to me, if we never had social media grow to the grandiosity powerhouse it's become where everyone's self esteem hinges on whether they get one like more not only on the previous post you made and not only one more than your friend who you're comparing yourself to but at least ten more than say your worst enemy otherwise you'll break out into a repeat of "Justin Bieber Anti-Fan Rage", poor Justin, I mean he's clearly a good guy inside... Yeah, Terrence Howard and Joe Rogan I believe would never have happened at least not the parody of it, Terrence would have been more humble where he researched the mathematical terms more before he had to experience the neurotic rage fest of people still stuck in their intellectual diapers thinking they're the perfect reflection of Marcus Aurelius humility because they didn't pull a Terrence Howard, but also nor did they have Terrence's perseverance in achieving what he has. Regardless, to come full circle, I love accountability, and heck, I'm happy to be a part of the cultural movement returning to page one. Our culture is so fragmented though that somehow along the bandwidth of Freud's manifesto of every disordered "Not truly sorry nor seeing" person has to be a Jerry Springer episode that rakes in the laughs when we don't even need a Dr. Phil episode, we just need more like Oprah Winfrey, Kevin Hart (comedian), Albert Einstein and Thomas Jefferson coming together to create a talk show to just be like, "Hey, it's cool, you're human. Don't worry about it. We're all going to be swallowed by the earth, you're not special. Everything is special. So have a laugh, de-stress and come to Puerto Rico with us. Enjoy "you" in your new year. Love."

 

 

Sacredness. Strength. Purpose. Vision... Deeper-Truth.

 

 

 

 

Edited yesterday at 02:44 AM by Letho
Elton John's "Can You Feel The Love This Year..." but the not yet made Star Trek meets Eminem version of it.