A Journey to Someone

[jjer94]

Previous chapters:

spiritual tinnitus.

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There is no difference between inspiration and lack of distraction. 
-Mark Manson

*Old man Jenkins voice* How long has it been? Fifty years?

Certainly feels that way. Like I've lived a few lifetimes in the past few years. 

I've been exploring the wild and revelatory vicissitudes of being human, embracing human needs and human obligations. More than half of my twenties was spent avoiding being human, i.e. spiritual bypassing. I used Leo's content, this forum, psychedelics, a whole 'lotta books, and even food to avoid the confusing, difficult world of human affairs. 

The main remedy that pulled me out of my spiritual circus was renting my own house. I have a host of different responsibilities and adulting things that I need to stay on top of. Survival has stared me straight in the face, and I stare back with equal reluctance and resolve. I literally cannot afford to sulk anymore. 

The past couple of years have been a test of the "Divine Masculine," I guess I could say. Pressing on when metaphorical weights were tied to my ankles. Developing a work ethic. Managing rejection. Believing in myself when the people around me were doubting. Having a willingness to take risks and look like a fool. Solidifying my sense of purpose. 

I'm proud to say that at age 30, I have finally found "my thing." My zone of genius. It's been staring me in the face for ten years, but I've been fighting it every step of the way. "There's no money in music," the average Joe says. "It's a competitive industry. Keep your day job. Music is nowhere near impactful as being a teacher, a healer, a therapist, or really anything else." Yadda yadda yadda. 

To a certain degree, that's all valid. But I've reached a point in my life where doing anything other than what I'm good at and feel passionate about feels like a waste of time. So if it means going the starving artist path, then so fucking be it. 

Fortunately, it hasn't been so bad. I've been blessed in so many twisted and peculiar ways. For instance, I was Instacarting at the time of the shooting in 2021, and consequently, the CEO gave me free mental health services as well as a large sum of money. I ended up saving all of that money, so by the time I made my way back home, I had a fat stack to invest in something. Someone offered to rent me an entire house with all of the amenities for a killer rate, and I accepted. I then used all of that saved money to invest in acoustic treatment, a new laptop, plugins, furniture, etc. for a music studio. 

Be Light Studio unfolded so serendipitously that looking back feels a bit surreal. Since then, I have been teaching myself music production and plan to start an LLC once I get my ducks in a row. I've spent the past year self-producing an album, and as of a few days ago, I finished it. I plan to release it in Mid-October. In between the album, a number of locals have asked me to produce their music, so I already have a growing clientele. 

For a while, I doubted the whole thing, reverting to my idea of becoming a healer/therapist as I already have a couple of certifications. But joining an orientation zoom call for a master's degree in counseling, I knew immediately that I would hate myself if I pursued that path. Turns out that I've been using those aptitudes in other ways. Maybe I'll write about that in another post. 

For the past few years, I've worked part-time at a local juice bar. But thanks to all of the live gigs I've managed to book, I am now officially financially independent. I have to live like a monk, but I'm wealthy in freedom. 

I never thought I'd reach this point. In most of the other parallel realities, I am likely dead by active or passive suicide. But in this reality I'm pursuing my passions and making money from them. Go figure!

I could say more, but I don't want this post to be too long, and I need to get my day started. But I feel drawn back to this forum because I feel that in the midst of all of this human stuff, I've lost the plot. I've hit a level of burnout that I've never experienced before, which has caused me to backslide in my habits. I've become addicted to my own adrenaline release, whether with chronic Youtube content consumption, my right hand, or late bedtimes.

While I've achieved so much in the past couple of years, I feel like I've lost myself in the process. I've lost that zest to learn more, to push myself towards higher virtue, to stay above the noise. I guess I have a case of spiritual tinnitus. So it's time to turn down the volume on distraction. My hope is that writing, whether here or in my own journal, will get me back on track. 

My goals for this off-season (i.e. fewer gigs and more time to myself):

• Replace mindless Youtube content consumption with audiobooks, books, journaling, and songwriting
• Either write one song or learn one cover song per week
• Continue working on clients' projects
• Transition from using my right hand with a screen, to using my right hand without one, to ideally using my right hand only once per week at most
• Re-acquire my stretching habit and begin to myofascially release my god-awful posture from too much guitar playing
• Acquire a regular aerobics habit (likely long walks)
• Re-acquire a regular strength training habit
• At least eight hours of rest every night, with an ideal bedtime of 10pm and wakeup at 7am

I have other goals and more to say, but for now, this will suffice. 

To anyone who is curious enough to read this — I wish you well!

 

 

[Michael569]

Welcome back! Good to see you around again 👋🏻

[jjer94]

@Michael569 Likewise, Michael!

[jjer94]

spiritual flint and steel.

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I stopped pretending that I know everything and everyone else is clueless. In reality, I'm the clueless twenty-something. I get most of my information from books and furiously masturbate my mind. I can't even turn off the monkey mind after a year of meditating 35 minutes per day. I think that I can somehow live on this hermit tower and get paid for parroting information instead of getting real-world experience among the "clueless chimps."

I stopped pretending to dislike humanity. In reality, I dislike myself. I'm not particularly dislikable, but my programming can't help it. In reality, I'm afraid of people because of what they've done to me in the past. I don't want to be hurt for the thousandth time, so naturally, I avoid them like the plague and prefer to die slowly from lack of connection. The Internet is my Wilson.

I stopped pretending that enlightenment should be my top priority right now. In reality, it's just a cop out to avoid my more pressing problems. 

-July 2017

 

But I feel an obligation to pursue music. All of the things I'm afraid of will have to be faced if I pursue music: my inner critic, being judged by others, humiliation, socializing, marketing, business, being flexible, the list goes on. In a sense, pursuing music would be pursuing self-mastery, since the obstacle is the way, is it not? And perhaps my current interest in "inner work" is just a ploy to run away from my true fears. 

-December 2017

 

I just spent the past week in a professional music studio, where I recorded my own EP...The process was intensely satisfying. My creative juices were funneled into the project, leaving me little inkling to write here. I am a bit conflicted, however. Is this still a hobby, or is this something worth pursuing deeper? I know I'm nowhere near as dedicated as some of the other admirable musicians on this forum. I don't practice much, at all. I don't care much for technique or mastery of any particular instrument.

-February 2018

I may be intrinsically more of a feminine man than masculine, but that doesn't mean that my masculine side is useless or can't be developed. This is not a shame thing for me anymore. This is just the future of my integration. I feel a pull more than ever to cultivate my masculine side — to find a better definition for myself about what it means to be a man and bring those shunned masculine aspects of myself into the light. 

So, to be a better partner in the future, to be a better man and to ultimately do better for myself in the name of self-love, I need to build that stronger foundation. For me right now, I think that means making guy friends, joining a men's group, and supporting myself financially. 

I can no longer be a messianic lone wolf who pretends that he doesn't need stuff. I need friendship with other men, money to survive, and an environment that fosters my healing.

-September 2020

Reading older entries, I'm surprised I'm not cringing much at what I wrote back then.

In fact, I'm looking back on most of what I wrote with fondness. I'm supremely grateful for the person I was back then, who, despite facing seemingly insurmountable levels of emotional and circumstantial difficulty, pushed through in hopes of a better tomorrow. Yeah, I'm a little more mature now, but that soul kernel still remained throughout the older writing. In some ways, I have lost the spark, and reading old entries has been like a spiritual flint and steel on my soul. 

My prophecies, especially the ones in December 2017 and September 2020, came true. Pursuing music has also been a direct path to self-mastery due to the reasons I described, and I have the direct experience to confirm that. Since 2020, I have made a few male friends, found new male role models, and became part of a local community that has been conducive to my maturity. As of the summer, I am financially independent. Even with these advancements, I still live a hermity kind of life, but I don't berate myself for that anymore. 

Hitting 30 in April, the biggest change I've found entering my fourth decade of life is that I feel more of a palpable freedom to be authentic. I've lived enough to know just how difficult life is for most people. That most of us are barely scraping by and are too focused on ourselves to really give a damn about the quirks and flaws of the average person. And I've survived enough life to know that even "mistakes" that feel astronomical at the time are infinitesimally more trivial than we realize — which is substantiated by the fact that we are still alive. 

Living more life, having so many different experiences, some good, some bad, and surviving them all — it's made me more comfortable in my skin and more flexible to handle whatever life throws my way. It's chilled me out. It's solidified my sense of self more.

Would I be who I am now if not for all of the struggles I've endured? I wonder about that.

And then I wonder if that really matters, because I'm here. 

And then I make myself a smoothie. 

 

 

[Privet]

I feel more power in you compared to your earlier posts.

You rock homie👊

[jjer94]

Thanks, @Privet!!

==================

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"I lost your mother to 22 months of marriage. It was enough to fill a life."
— Reverend Monroe, Cold Mountain

my love.

I had a ridiculously busy week/weekend, from finishing the album and sending it to streaming platforms, to co-hosting a songwriting workshop, to four three-hour gigs in three days. This weekend was a windfall. I earned more tips on Saturday than the base pay I charge for a single three-hour live music performance. Huge wins all around. Though after coming home, eating dinner, and escaping into a movie for a while, I feel quite empty and wistful. 

Lately I've felt as if something should be there that isn't. And when I say "something," I really mean "someone." 

I met "my love" in October of 2022. I'll call her Elizabeth for anonymity's sake. 

I remember seeing a picture of her online and thought to myself, "Who the FUCK is THAT!?" The moment reminded me a bit of that scene in Big Fish where Ewan MacGregor's character is at that circus and time literally freezes when he sees the love of his life. 

Though at the time, I had already learned about the complexity of relationships, love vs compatibility, the unlikelihood of "love at first sight," soulmates being built moreso than found, overlay, the limitations of online connection, childhood trauma influencing who we choose, limerence, etc., part of me still believed in the fairytale. Part of me still believed there was a person that would move me to the core, that I would just "know" right away, and the dating process with her would be just a confirmation of that knowing. 

Sure enough, we organically began connecting online, and then we video chatted. Our first one lasted around seven hours. Same for the second, and the third. She entranced me. To this day, she's one of if not the most beautiful human I've ever seen. Everything about Elizabeth delighted me, from her wavy hair, to her sweet smile, to her quirky mannerisms, to the way she spoke, to her perspective on life, to her aspirations and her values. 

We dove deeply and fell deeply for each other. It was the greatest love I had ever known. The kind of love that didn't feel transactional for me, where I felt compelled to support her just for the sheer joy of supporting her. I had never before experienced that kind of love towards a human, only towards my pet guinea pigs. 

Unfortunately, many problems stared us both in the face. For one, I'm in the United States and she was in Canada — a several-hours flight away. People say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but it can also make a relationship grow more strained, especially for someone whose primary love language is touch. 

Another major issue was chronic illness. She was bedridden, barely able to function and care for herself in her day-to-day. My inner idealist held out hope that she would recover, as she was on the same healing protocols as I am, and I have healed many of my own symptoms. But things only got worse for her.

She told me that she couldn't date and had to focus on her healing. We tried being friends; in other words, I tried lying to myself about being friends with someone I was actually head over heels in love with. Long story short, in May 2023 I came to the reality of the situation and realized that I had to step away from the connection completely. 

I couldn't get over her and since then have thought about her every day in one form or another. The limerence of our unactualized love became my addiction for several months.

And then, in November of last year, I received a call from one of her friends telling me that she had passed away unexpectedly. I remember sitting in my car on that overcast afternoon, absolutely dumbfounded, going through the stages of grief — telling myself that it wasn't supposed to happen, raging at life, trying to rationalize it, and then bawling my eyes out. She was only 34.

How does one grieve the love of his life that he never even met? That remains a mystery for me.

Since then, I've struggled to share this story because I don't feel most people understand. Some say it was limerence, that she was a walking red flag, that I fell in love with the idea of her, that I was playing out my childhood "rescuer" role, that it was an escape from a real relationship, that it would have never worked. And while most of that is probably true in one sense... in another, I felt what I felt.

She touched me on the deepest possible level. Soul to soul. I had never felt so seen and understood in my life. And she said the same about me. Just because it would have never worked in reality doesn't mean that what was, wasn't real. Having since met in person a few people with whom I had initially connected online and having confirmed that my impressions of them online accurately matched my real-life experience of them, I strongly believe that. 

Before we stopped talking to each other, she sent me a long letter along with this poem. It hits me differently now that she's gone. 

Quote

Beyond the trees
across the seas
two souls collide
destined to meet
though short lived in time
they will always find
their way back to each other
in one form or another
They are intertwined
in nothing but peace
and a love so pure
it transcends space and time

 I miss you, my love.

 

Edited October 7, 2024 by jjer94

[jjer94]

emptiness and yearning.

So what's been the fallout of losing Elizabeth?

I've heard that men and women grieve differently. Women tend to seek emotional support from others and grieve openly, while men tend to retreat within themselves and use activity to grieve silently. I'm not surprised that I took all of that grief and invested it into learning music production and creating an album in dedication to her. It was useful for me, I suppose. 

Now that that's done, however, I'm left with that emptiness and yearning once again. I feel as if a large piece of my soul has died. I have become mostly numb, and I feel a massive wall where my open heart used to be. 

While I have since accepted the reality of the situation, interactions with other women are just not the same, even ones who closely resemble her or have similar values. My numbness and heart-wall has made it really difficult for me to open up again, as if subconsciously my body system knows that to open myself up to love again would mean to open myself up to that unimaginable pain of loss. This is partly the reason I've been relying on a habit with my right hand; it protects me from that risk while partially satisfying my sexual needs. This is also partly why that habit has been difficult to kick. 

Since the loss, I have become increasingly cynical about the world and have gravitated towards red-pill-leaning ideologies regarding romantic relationships. I see at least part of the reason I gravitated towards someone like Elizabeth was because I could be her only option. Otherwise, I believe I'd have none, because deep down I knew I couldn't offer any of the things that women actually want — the things that usually get a man past the threshold of her consideration, such as financial viability, confidence, lifestyle, and status.

Up to that point, the way I've approached relationships was through deception — pretending that physical intimacy was not as important to me as with other men. In other words, the Nice Guy. Throughout the years I've been the emotional support animal to many women, secretly hoping that by just being in their proximity and giving emotional intimacy, I would have at least a sliver of a chance at acquiring physical intimacy. Spoiler alert: That never works. 

Since discovering that about myself, I've made a conscious effort to curtail that pattern and instead have focused on becoming sexually valuable the old-fashioned masculine way: through grit, hard work, bluntness, risk-taking, and a sense of purpose.

But deep down, I just feel bitter. I'm not only grieving Elizabeth — whom I felt I truly loved for who she was and felt she truly loved me for who I am — but I am also grieving the loss of the idea that human love in the context of a relationship can be purely unconditional. I feel bitter towards women in general, whom I feel are only beginning to notice me because of what I offer, and I feel bitter towards myself, because as much as I believe I can love a romantic prospect for who she is, I also want (and don't want) things from her. Perhaps that bitterness is also mommy issues, the hole in my soul where childhood emotional nourishment should have been. I can only wonder.

Part of me wants to opt out of the relationships game altogether, but I can't not want what I want. So I'm a bit lost. But I believe in time I will heal and figure it out. 

 

[jjer94]

plugging away.

Amazing how things can shift in a matter of a week or two. 

For several months, I've been getting to know a woman online who reminds me a lot of Elizabeth and is in a somewhat similar situation with chronic illness. I didn't have much hope with our interaction due to the physical distance and all of the inner stuff I described in the previous post, but the sincerity of our connection kept me from giving up.

Come September, a local ex came back into my life and expressed interest again. For several weeks, I was feeling lost in a choice between these two women. Long story short, I recently had my first video chat with the one who reminds me of Elizabeth and was blown away by the connection. That alone gave me the clarity I needed. I gracefully stepped away from my ex again and now have some momentum with the other one. 

(Side note for the men: A great metric for determining whether a connection with a love interest is genuine is to ask yourself in post-nut clarity if you would still hang out with them )

Only time will tell how this goes. A lot is working against us, but I would rather have a strong soul connection and deal with logistical hurdles than be with someone for shallower, more convenient reasons. 

On another note (no pun intended), I recently purchased a new microphone that I was planning to buy next year but fortunately was able to afford it this year. I should have bought this thing years ago. It's insanely versatile and would have upgraded my album. But alas, my album was recorded mostly on a bottom-of-the-barrel AT2020...

In the meantime, I've been plugging away at new projects and exhausting myself once again. My lack of sleep is the main culprit for my poor impulse control and thus poor habits. Since I started this journal again, not much has changed in that department. But now that the white season is approaching, I'll soon have a lot more time to focus on my well-being. 

 

[jjer94]

unplugging away.

If I'm going to build something real and beautiful with this new girl, I need to address an elephant in the room: my right hand.

I want to unplug from porn for several reasons:

• It's a big time sink.
• It fries my adrenals and depletes my life energy.
• The industry exploits most of the women.
• It desensitizes Earthworm Jim.
• It trains my brain to objectify women moreso than interact with them as people.
• I feel guilt and shame nearly every time I use it. 

My original goal at the start of this journal chapter was to stop porn, not masturbation. However, after listening to this audiobook, I'm tempted to go celibate for awhile to see what it's like. That means no sexual activity whatsoever, not even with semen retention. Here's what I hope to gain:

• Desexualizing my brain.
• More life energy to direct towards creative pursuits, physical exercise, and the new relationship.
• Greater spiritual connection.
• Greater focus on my life purpose. 
• Greater self-esteem due to higher integrity with my values. 
• Give my adrenals a rest and spare my zinc reserves. 

I've known about celibacy for a long time and its potential benefits through books like Think and Grow Rich, but I've hesitated to try it until now for a few reasons. One, I wanted to have sex. Two, I was worried about wet dreams (turns out they're okay to have unless you're trying to be a hardcore celibate). And three, I wanted to make sure I wasn't spiritual bypassing. 

But having turned 30 and had a few sexual experiences, I think I can do away with all of it for awhile. At least until it comes up down the road in my relationship.

The book I linked says that ideally, a man should orgasm no more than the frequency that a woman ovulates, i.e. once per month. So I want to shoot for one month of chastity. So far I'm on day 3. Let's see how this goes...

 

Edited October 30, 2024 by jjer94

[jjer94]

crotching tiger, hidden dragon.

Yay! My balls haven't exploded!.. Yet.

Fourteen days have passed since I last released down there. I relapsed on election day because the candidates turned me on too much  Jk. I relapsed (fortunately in the shower without a screen) because it was all so overstimulating and my adrenals were firing. If I didn't release on 11/5, I would be on day 24 of celibacy. 

Here's what I've noticed so far.

All of the things I hoped to gain from this practice that I wrote in the previous post are coming to life, subtly but surely...

I'm beginning to relate to women more as humans than as sex objects. I don't suspect that objectification will go away completely anytime soon, as I believe it is a primal feature of the male psyche. But I'm noticing it's running more in the background than in the foreground. 

Fewer sexpectations. I feel more liberated because I need less from the opposite sex and I'm seeking them less as a means to an end. To me, that's a moral win. 

My crotch is buzzing. I feel such an intense pulsating life force emanating from my balls and perineum. I find it uncomfortable at times because I haven't yet established enough outlets to utilize it. Almost as if the retention itself is like a biological drill sergeant pushing me to exercise again. 

No wet dreams, but plenty of intimate dreams. This one shocks me a bit. I had more wet dreams while I was sexually active than I do now. I have yet to have a wet dream. 

Greater connection to self. I feel more connected to myself and my body in a way that's hard to explain. The life force from my nether region is emanating throughout my body and invigorating me, giving me a baseline zest for life that I haven't normally had. Which makes sense on a biological level. Sexual fasting signifies to the body that you're not spreading your seed and fulfilling your biological duty, so your body will then assist you in becoming more sexually attractive. 

This is the longest I've gone without touching my wee since before college. I feel proud of myself for following through, and I have strong positive regard for this practice so far. I have a feeling my starting this habit will create a cascade effect into the other areas of my life and provide a foundation for me to get back on track. So I plan to stick with it for as long as I can. 

 

Edited November 19, 2024 by jjer94