Posted July 7, 2020 (edited) Feeling sad and irritated at the same time about my mother. She often bugs me relentlessly to type messages for her in her group chats since she thinks her English isn't that good and has some low self-esteem and anxiety problems. She asked me to type this message for her saying: Quote I don't care wherever they bury me. But I always pray that in the next world I get to stay with all my family in one place. Staying with my parents, brothers, sisters and kids forever in the same place. Inshallah it will be the same for all you people as well Ofc to type the message I had to talk to her a lot, her explaining what she wants to write. Makes me depressed she's probably believing in a lie. And I can't tell her it's a lie, and holding myself from saying that kills me. She's always so romantic about the notion of meeting her lost ones in the next life. It's her one hope, her lifeline. She's semi-autistic and childish emotionally, and her lifeline is a lie. Whatever Edited July 7, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted July 9, 2020 (edited) Slept at 00:00. Woke up in the middle of the night just now. It's 02:23 now. For a long time I've been having problems with emotional blunting. In general I've been seeing a few more sparks of emotion. Especially listening to nostalgic pieces of music I haven't heard in a long time. The anime durarara holds a special place in my heart for me, and some of the music tracks just remind me of emotion I haven't felt much of in a long time. And alongside the feeling of more emotion, which is ultimately a good, I'm becoming more emotionally turbulent as well. And I don't know what to make of my life. But certain things about my mind are becoming clear to me and I like that. One of those things is my wistful and nostalgic nature. I wish I could be free of my psychological, biological limitations. I wish I could know joy, or I fantasise about being super competent at various things. And then I get depressed, that I'm just boring old me. But on the other hand, there's a weird ecstasy and emotional high to my feelings of longing. Maybe if I had a better vocabulary I could come up with better words to describe how I feel. I think this track does a better job though. By nature I'm a deeply emotional and feeling person, but I've suppressed a lot of that. At least it's coming up more now though. And it feels good that it comes up I suppose. I'm thankful that after much thrashing around in the dark, I've been shown at least this much again now. I think I've decided then. It's time to start weaning off my anti depressants to overcome emotional blunting. Since that's a side effect of them. I'll probably become a cry baby again, but I can see it's the right way forward. Strange how contradictory we can all feel about ourselves eh? Appearing like a cold jerk to others when really I'm a cry baby. Edited July 9, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted July 10, 2020 What seems to be helping me a lot is journalling. Keeping a handwritten one. I've ranted before why I prefer handwriting to typing. I write down what went well or what went wrong in the day, troubleshoot to at least try something different the next day. So I've gone ahead with decreasing my antidepressant dose. From 100mg of zoloft to 75mg. In a few weeks I'll reduce it again. I'm also gonna take nofap seriously I think. Porn and SSRI anti depressants will have down regulated dopamine and serotonin receptors in my brain respectively. So I hope that by doing this my brain gets fixed a little. Not to mention the emotional blunting from SSRI. Nofap and being horny is weird tbh. Yesterday I was trynna sleep, but instead I was getting what people describe as PMO withdrawal. I was getting "porn flashbacks", images of my favourite porn scenes coming to mind. I could feel the urge/horny inside my entire body. I was just rocking back and forth a bit to soothe myself, feeling very irritable. I stopped resisting and it got better. I think my brain is genuinely used to having orgasm as an inducer for sleep. I don't know how I resisted to be honest. It's just that it's hard to see light at the end of the tunnel sometimes when you're feeling the pain or cravings. Or you're not showering your brain in the chemicals you use to quell pain. Life is pain, but it's fine. Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted July 13, 2020 (edited) Man I'm feeling weird today. I went on an intense bike ride, was super fun. I got a rush out of the high speeds. I then mowed the lawn. I had a big meal afterwards. And then I lazed around. Nofap streak broke from feeling fatigue and wanting a release. But I'm not too beat up about it. I'll handwrite journal to myself in detail later about everything anyway. I have a very peculiar feeling. My stomach is stuffed. But I'm hungry and want to eat. It's weird. I'm wondering if this is a side effect of reducing my zoloft medication from 100mg to 75mg. Either way, body and mind is weird today. I can't figure it out. Maybe these are flu-like symptoms from decreasing dosage. So I just took a moment to pause and look at myself mindfully. There's a bouncy, irritable energy. It's not terribly bad, but the energy is jerky. The waves of sensation oscillate frequently with a low time period. For some reason I'm seeing it as bad and uncomfortable but I can't tell why. Just irritability as well. Edit: I'm feeling unwell like I have a flu, the rest of the commentary is delirium. Maybe even severe hay fever after the amount of time I spent outdoors. Cutting grass? Spending time in countryside bike riding? The delirious commentary being sustained by me not taking a second a look inwards. And I put off looking inwards by drowning my brain in YouTube videos by Dr K and Vaush. But now I'm listening to chill Durarara track Anyway, I feel good and okay. I'll kriya yoga before sleep. I havent even stretched after working out or showered. Too tired to shower, just stretch Edited July 13, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted August 5, 2020 So I did follow up on cutting down the Zoloft dosage. So it seems like it's been just over 3 weeks since I lowered my dose. I've had some mood swings, probably due to withdrawal of medication. I injured my back two weeks ago, and that fucked up my sleeping pattern severely. That's because the pain made me be in a constant fight or flight response. I'm in the process of fixing the sleeping pattern right now. Going to bed earlier today, hopefully it all works out. One thing I'm a little pissed about is that I'm wasting the days away. But I'm just so tired due to sleeping pattern which is still being fixed. I guess I need some patience. Still got me pissed though. I previously lost about 6kg of fat, but now I've gained 2-3kg back. Smh. Whatever, I'll just meditate and read and drink water and sleep. Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted August 7, 2020 (edited) I know this is it. But It is completely empty. It's nothing. Once again I've been shocked into "higher consciousness". I see everything is made out of nothing. I wanted this to be a "positive" experience but that was fake grasping. It hit me whilst I was intensely brooding and concentrating on my experience. At first I felt some joy, as I felt like whatever it was I was trying to overcome had been lessened, and I tried to morph the experience of complete nothingness into something good. For moments I felt joy. I felt joy and thought that existence itself was a blessing, that I'm lucky to exist and lucky to have something rather than nothing. It's the joyous news! There's something despite nothing! How great! But now later here I am. My life is suffering. Seeing this nothingness, I know, I know, I will never die. And I'm terrified. And there's just this meaninglessness. And I will just exist as this pure meaninglessness nothing forever? There's nothing here, and there will never not be nothing. And so I'm immortal. I'm in a state of shock to be honest. Can't believe any of this is real. I'm used to living in the world of fantasy, fiction, and the trivial. But this is everything. But I can't accept it and I'm in denial. I can't believe this isn't a dream, can't believe that this is really it. This enlightened state does nothing to improve your ego. Anyone thinking it does hasn't seen the true face of this all. My costume, my ego, it's all the exact same. Not a single bit has changed. Only difference is that some sense sees my own character and everyone else as an NPC, a fake character. ---- It's crazy how full circle I've gone. I felt this way back when I was 13 and was a religious muslim high on Islam, high on prayer and mystical experiences. The terror of eternity and imagining an existence of forever. Now here I am. Everything and nothing has a changed at the same time. --- No one can hold your hand, no one can make the emptiness go away. It's just you. It's your show. It's strange how I'm much more animated and joyful in my interactions with people when to a certain extent I feel dead. But I'm still terrified and in shock, despite the exterior appearance of fluidity to anyone who talks to me. Very weird. Existence is strange. Edited August 7, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted August 14, 2020 (edited) I've now realised even more strongly I have strange OCD thoughts and compulsions. One of those OCD compulsions is maths. I'm addicted to it, and I do it out of a very strong gnawing feeling of incompleteness that never goes away. It's my minds excuse to wage war and struggle. I spent a long time studying topology today even though I didn't enjoy it. I entered some flow state which I didn't enjoy but was real. I was writing a page of insights to myself about maths with a level of articulation I rarely posses. I also have OCD obsessions/thoughts about chess. I don't play chess much at all, I've only played 5 games max in the past few months. But I keep imagining different movement patterns, figuring out every detail my mind can in that computationally infinite expanse I don't enjoy maths like this. Neither would I enjoy chess like this. I hate these thoughts. For those thinking this isn't a bad thing. My mind is locked into an overdrive of anxiety and meaningless activity. Extremely meaningless. Technical details I don't give a shit about but I'm addicted to. My mind is addicted to thinking and it's ruining me Edited August 14, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted August 24, 2020 (edited) Writing a journal post to give my mind some peace since I can't fall asleep Just in day to day life more frequently now. Recently I've started to be able to see more clearly how I resist from moment to moment. Things which I couldn't see before are now bleeding into awareness. Some of these things I detect are weird things I cannot name, I can only feel and release. I don't know what these "things" are, but it might be akin to direct/actual experience of what we call "structure of the ego". It's an extremely interesting and subtle thing. I find myself taking subtle positionalities, and whilst I don't know what's exactly going on, I see enough to be able to start letting go. I can see just a little more what ego is. And I can try to let go of the things I detect, to very various degrees of success. I will latch onto a thread, try to let go and expand as much as I can. But the thread hasn't been fully let go of. It would be more accurate to say that sometimes it feels like hitting a brick wall before I can even unwind a millimetre of the thread. I detect what's there but dont see it clearly enough yet to understand or know how to let go. Sometimes I can't tell what is letting go vs what is being let go. But I just do what I do regardless. ---- Also, I'm taking an attitude of strict discipline in my daily life now. I'll see how it goes. Using Google calendar to schedule the day. My mental health, addictions, life purpose, career, studies, it's all out of whack yo. My kriya yoga has been slipping lately. BUT. imma now do zen meditation and kriya yoga everyday. I'm reading three pillars of zen. Just doing very basic breath meditation per that instruction. Also reading mastering core teachings of Buddha, and other books, too many to say. Suffice to say I'll slowly figure out the Buddhist methodology. And I'm reading A course in miracles. Hindu, Buddhist, Christian, let the grace of these three powers give this soul salvation Edited August 24, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted August 25, 2020 (edited) My PTSD got triggered today. What is probably my core trauma was triggered by a seemingly random event with a close group of online friends. I can't be bothered to explain details. The most intense part of the PTSD attack has faded. I felt such terror letting myself be vulnerable, to other people as well. But at least I did it. That way I can have as few regrets as possible about how I handled the situation and will hence have fewer ghosts or doubts haunting me by being honest to the appropriate people. I need to just calm and catch the emotion early. Focus on just accepting the emotions coming out. Focusing on the content of the thought isn't the way. The emotion flow surging is. My day was going so well today. I was productive, worked out, did yoga, and then BANG, here I am. Edited August 25, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted September 5, 2020 (edited) Sat 05/09/2020 10:06 I've been in the grip of past images and sensations. Deja vu. I'm remembering one of my first "enlightenment experiences". When I was 16 or so I heard of meditation from Sam Harris. And for whatever reason, two of the first powerful experiences I had were when I was bored on the bus and paying attention to my breath. I wanted to see "where is my breath coming from?". It was probably my first realisation of no-self and no free will. Extremely random. I had no frame of reference or theory for what my experiences were since I was a stout atheist who grew up with islam. But I remember realising, I'm in control of nothing, and I don't know why anything is. I have no free will. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ My energetic state right now, my emotions, images, I feel like I'm in the past. This is likely due to my recently disturbed sleeping pattern. I've been fluctuating in and out of dissociation whilst awake. Right now, I'm not dissociated. I'm just hit by extremely, extremely hard deja vu. I feel like I'm 16 again, sleep deprived in the morning with a very particular flavour of subtle anxiety, wearing my white button shirt, sitting on the bus and going to psychiatric (work experience)/(internship). This very particular flavour of anxiety...it reminds me of a distant time. The time before my emotions became as they are now. I used to experience this flavour of anxiety very frequently. I experienced around the time my psychological issues were starting to converge into a turning point which eventually became depression. This combination of bad sleep and accidentally forgetting to take my SSRI meds for a couple of days, it did something. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I have a large shadow A lot of my shadow is sexual in nature. Sex itself, alongside the possible things that are possibly underneath the surface of these sexual forces, is very strange thing for me. My inclination towards this domain of reality from a very young age makes me reverent of the existence of alien and unknown qualities in nature. "karma", "the collective unconscious", these are different labels for desires, situations, that I myself don't feel I created more so I was thrown into. When I was 5 I discovered the adult channels on television. I would use the TV when I was alone at night. I felt drawn to the scantily clad women but I didn't know why. Not too soon after I connected a few dots, realised the concept of attraction. So I watched late night adult channels for a while to myself. When I was 6 I would use google to try and search for naked girls, although I didn't know porn existed and so I would just go on google images and search what my brain could think of "Hot naked ladies", something like that. ----- There's one thing I'm genuinely confused about from the details I do remember. Because whatever way I slice it, this event seems absurd, and perhaps concerning. This has gotten me unsettled, but I don't know if I'm paranoid. Okay so this is set when I'm 5 years old. I'm in school, in class. All of us kids in the class would sit down on the ground whilst the teacher, who was female, would read some book and we listen. Now whilst everyone would sit directly in front of the teacher, facing her, I would sit around the side of the teacher. A bit to the side, and even a bit behind perhaps. But anyway, whilst the teacher was reading, I'd look up her skirt! My head was directly beneath her skirt, peeking!!!! And it was all the time. I remember the colour of her socks and what they looked like, seeing her legs. It's possible that I even touched her socks, but I can't be sure and I don't know, my memory is just so hazy trying to remember this. And this was a frequent occasion. I'd do it every time she's reading and gathers us. I THINK I WOULD FIDGET AROUND, LOOK UNDER HER SKIRT, AND NOBODY NOTICED OR CARED. Which I find strange. Maybe she knew but didn't care? I have no clue. I think it might have literally been the case that, everyones eyes were glued on the teachers face and nobody was looking at me, and I was behind the teacher at such a weird angle that nobody saw or knew what I was doing. Just assuming I was fidgeting a bit but was listening like the rest of them. ---- Anyway. Back on track. When I was 12 I discovered pornography. Am addicted to that till this day, being 20 years old now. All my male friends in school would mingle with females, but I had it instilled in me that having females as friends was a sin. You're told growing up that you shouldn't look at a female you're not married to for any nanosecond longer than is necessary. You feel like you neither fit in with your home culture or the west. This alienation lasted for years after I knew I wasnt Muslim and is probably a main factor of my depression. I had a crush back in high school, and that person still remains a symbol in the various images that pops in my head. I remember having an insight not too long ago about how a problem I was having came back to the feelings I had for this girl, many many years ago. My porn tastes became extreme and escalated. Sadistic, domination and worse . I've only confided in 1 person about the full extent of my problem. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Anyway, I'm glad I wrote a mini biography for myself to reference. Edited September 5, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted September 7, 2020 Monday 07/09/2020 21:16 Just finished kriya yoga and meditation at the end. Hadn't done it in 3 days so it was good to do. But I felt a little something by the end when I was doing concentration. I think I realise one reason that I don't meditate regularly. I enter a strange state of consciousness, panic and want to forget about it almost. But I can't and shan't turn back. But my mind just panics at feeling certain things too deeply. That reality is unreal, or that I am a story, it's a lot to take in. Rather, my mind is going crazy just because the jump in consciousness between meditation and normal waking state is too much. Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted September 13, 2020 (edited) Monday 14/09/2020 00:20 Wonder if I'm going crazy or the point of any of it. Wondering whether I'm imagining and creating spiritual meanings and experiences where there are none. And whether there's just this nothingness. I've encountered this feeling before and each time it feels alien and dangerous. Whether I was muslim, atheist, or now "spiritual", the experience and feeling encountered is the exact same. Feeling lost, confused, sad and scared of meaninglessness and nothing. Edited September 13, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted September 15, 2020 Tuesday 15/09/2020 I can't figure out the meaning of illusion. Suffering, one confronts and somewhat lets go of suffering, and it somewhat subsides and alleviates. I'm trying to look at what the suffering is made out of. I can confront it, somewhat alleviate it, but nothing deeper is being seen. Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted September 21, 2020 (edited) Mon 21/09/2020 Love is death. To love and accept all is to die. That's what it feels like. I experienced a little of this yesterday, made me see just how big a leap that is. Perhaps it can be framed in reverse as well. Death is love. Edited September 21, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted September 22, 2020 (edited) Tuesday 22/09/2020 23:30 I found out today (2 hours ago) that one of my best friends has been reported missing, not seen in 3 days now. I'm extremely shocked. I'm not usually one to be superstitious, but today I woke up feeling extremely drained and depressed, before I even heard the news. I could tell he was a bit more depressed. There's just waiting, hoping and seeing now. Edited September 22, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted September 26, 2020 (edited) The body of one of my best friends who went missing was discovered today in a river, after he went missing for a week. I still don't know how he died or what the circumstances were, but I'm in shock and feel sick. I've talked to one of my other closest friends in person, talked to my family, cried, but I still feel nauseous in my stomach and sick. I'm just gonna talk to my friends who knew him, maybe his family some time, I don't know. Edited September 26, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted September 28, 2020 I have weeped and weeped. Now the past few days, I've been exhausted since hearing the news. No energy. However, after crying thoroughly, I'm digesting it more now. Starting to accept it and not psychologically be in denial. But my energy is sapped. I am a lost lamb. Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted October 3, 2020 Sat 03/10/2020 01:03 Meditation doesn't do much for me it seems. Maybe it's because I don't do it regularly. It's soft stuff. I still feel like I'm in the relative. Nothing getting deconstructed. I prefer the Peter Ralston or Jed McKenna style I suppose, it seems now. Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted October 25, 2020 (edited) Sun 25/10/2020 01:50 God, it's been over a month and I'm still depressed about my friend's death. I feel sick in my stomach thinking about it or being reminded of it. Ugh, I just can't get rid of it. I want to throw up. fuck fuck fuck. feels like hell. No running away, have to experience. Edited October 25, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted October 26, 2020 (edited) Reflection on Western vs Pakistani( or just traditional) societies The structure of what I write may be jittery but I will attempt to wrap it all together. My thoughts will be centred around the complexity of life in the west relative to the traditional roles and simple lives others around the world adopt. Issues of lack of education, lack of medicalisation. For context, I have a large family of 51 cousins and many aunties and uncles. ------ My uncle in Pakistan is an odd fellow. He's not psychotic but he's certainly eccentric. He spends his time sitting and mumbling in the dark, praying, says that Imam Ali told him such and such a thing about a given situation. My extended family almost treat this man like some guardian deity to be appeased with money and support , lest he curse them. His job was being a metre reader for some electricity company. I’m told he hardly did his job and work, yet he was promoted to some managerial position I forget the specifics of. Despite this man being so odd and dysfunctional, he has a place in society and functions well. Should he have been in the west, he’d have been regarded as a crazy and wouldn’t garner the same level of support from his family and acceptance from society. ----------- My aunty, who's dead now, developed schrizophenia but prior to that she always had problems with socialising. And the reason for this I don’t know. Her personality was extremely unusual from the standards and perspectives I judge by, yet she still managed to get married and have a kid (before her husband passed away shortly). She lived the rest of her life at home as a ‘housewife’ and etc. My dad has a story of how when he would enter the room with my aunty, she’d run away and leave the room, giggling or something. Despite her oddness, she wasn’t regarded as anything out of the ordinary by society. Lack of education, when she was young this shyness and etc would have been regarded as a good thing! Women who are shy and have issues like this can be seen as virtous. ------------- My cousin is severely autistic, strange interpersonal skills but has a job as a lawyer. He does his job, it’s pretty dry and black and white. But it means his marriage is in a shit state and his wife suffers. It enters a point where he’s silent with his wife when they’re in the house together, she cooks him food and that’s that. (I don’t know what the physical relationship is like). Yet despite all of this, his issues were never picked up or thought about. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ These people I’ve talked about, they never thought about or had to think about these issues. They lived very simple lives, lacked education and didn’t know medically at all what was going on. . ( and I’m sure it was often the case that problems were caused environmentally by trauma, or circumstances no one thought bad or worth looking at. And we could talk on and on about how the culture is bad and encourages certain things, etc. Education, fundamentalism, etc). Family units and collective units of functioning meant everyone was given 1 or 2 roles to serve the unit, and so long as they could do that, their issues and their full thriving as an individual was unknown and not a possibility in their potential space. Meanwhile in the west, the individual has a complex life. He is scientifically aware of all his issues, he has every facet and domain of life to deal with himself. If he’s shit at cooking, shit at socialising with the opposite sex, he has to overcome it all and grow from it. He can’t just buy into tradition and let his family arrange him a bride. Reflecting on this makes me thankful to have been born in the west, and to not want to squander it. Edited October 26, 2020 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
