Monster Energy

You suffer because you believe the beauty is in a person. It isn’t. If beauty were actually located in her, in her face, body, or presence, then she would produce the same effect in you every time. But she doesn’t. Sometimes there is intensity. Sometimes there is nothing. That alone exposes the truth. You are generating the experience. You are the source of beauty, meaning, and charge. The person is merely a trigger. Obsession arises when you believe she carries something essential that you lack. In reality, you are projecting the power of your own consciousness outward and becoming enslaved by your own projection. When this is seen clearly, the chase collapses. Not because the world becomes dull, but because you realize that the beauty was never in her. It was always you. Stop being a slave to a person. Reclaim the source.

I mostly agree. I’d just add that being isn’t something you secure and move past. It’s something you keep losing and returning to. Freedom shows up in that return, not in the idea

If it was, I’d be worried about myself.

God bless you

I take it seriously in the sense that I think he’s pointing at something real, but I don’t treat the metaphors as literal physics. For me it’s more about the idea that consciousness never really stops unfolding, and that what we call “death” isn’t the end of that movement. Do I agree with every detail he describes? Not necessarily. But the core intuition, that formless awareness doesn’t just disappear but reshapes, that part resonates with me. So I’m open to it, but I hold it lightly.

Okay, Leo. I want to try to explain why I hesitate with some of your conclusions, not to dismiss them but to understand the path you take from experience to philosophy. I absolutely believe your experiences are genuine. It’s clear you’re not making them up. What I’m more curious about is how you interpret them. You often describe moments of total certainty, and I know how powerful that can feel. But that’s exactly why I’m cautious, because the sensation of absolute clarity isn’t rare. It can come from ecstasy, psychedelics, psychosis, meditation, euphoria, depression… basically any extreme mental state. The feeling itself isn’t the issue. It’s the step that comes after. The leap from “I experienced this” to “this is how the entire universe works.” That’s where I can’t quite follow, because experiences are private while your conclusions are universal. It’s like going from a diary entry to a physics textbook without anything in between. When you say “consciousness is everything,” it sometimes sounds as if your personal sense of totality has to be the fundamental structure of reality. But how do you know it isn’t just the mind doing what the mind always does when pushed to its limit: creating a sense of meaning, coherence, narrative? That’s one of the mind’s most basic functions. I’m not saying your interpretation is wrong. I’m just saying it is an interpretation. For me there’s a difference between a powerful experience and a theory about reality, and that’s where I wonder if you’re jumping too quickly. Not out of bad intention, but because the experience itself is so overwhelming that it almost demands a cosmological explanation. I can respect that. I just need more steps between the points to follow along. That’s all.

If you take Leo’s framing seriously, the key idea isn’t really reincarnation as a cycle you’re stuck in. It’s that formless consciousness never actually stops expressing itself. There’s no “pause screen” after death where you step back and make a menu choice. The part of you that chooses only exists after a self has already formed. Formlessness isn’t freedom in the way we imagine it. It’s more like pure potential without a reference point, and potential naturally moves into expression. Not because someone forces it, but because that’s what awareness does when it isn’t holding itself still. So the real question isn’t “Why can’t I choose something else?” It’s “Who is the ‘I’ that thinks it stands outside the process?” In the way Leo describes it, you don’t reincarnate because you’re trapped. You reincarnate because existence keeps unfolding, and you’re one of the ways it happens.

I appreciate the thoughtfulness. For me the important part is simply recognizing how much translation happens the moment an experience re-enters a human mind. Whatever the source may be, it always arrives filtered, shaped, and interpreted. That doesn’t make it meaningless, it just means we stay honest about the limits of what the mind can claim.

I see what you mean, but I’m drawing a distinction because I think it matters. Wisdom may include discernment, but they don’t function the same way. One orbits insight, the other tests it. I’m just speaking to that testing part.

Easy there, Buddha boy. Even God smirks.

I appreciate you taking the time to respond. I’ll keep exploring these questions in a way that feels authentic to me, and I trust that whatever clarity I reach will come from my own process, not from trying to force a conclusion. Thank you for the exchange. Wishing you well.

You’re right that what I described overlaps with wisdom, but wisdom without discernment is just pleasant sentiment. Discernment is the part that keeps us honest. It’s what stops insight from turning into ideology, and experience from turning into dogma. If anything, wisdom grows out of discernment, not the other way around.

Leo, I understand that from your vantage point my questions look like “imagining others,” or playing mental games, or being trapped in some epistemic chicken-egg situation. But you’re presenting all those claims as if naming them makes them true. Choosing not to imagine distinctions doesn’t eliminate them, it just means you’re declaring your perspective to be the universal template. You keep telling me that any distinction I make is imaginary, while simultaneously insisting that your own distinction between Truth and illusion is not. If all distinctions collapse in Unity, then yours collapses too. If they don’t, then mine is at least worth addressing instead of dismissing. And when you tell me that nothing I think matters, or that all thought is childish nonsense, that isn’t a revelation, it’s a tactic. It turns dialogue into submission. If the only acceptable position is to stop thinking and agree, then what you’re offering isn’t awakening, it’s obedience. You say this is beyond human comprehension, yet somehow still communicable through blunt certainty. You say there is no argument for Absolute Truth, yet you insist your words describe it accurately. If you truly occupy a perspective where language is incapable of misrepresenting reality, that itself is a claim that deserves scrutiny. Not rejection, not acceptance, but scrutiny. I’m not trying to outsmart you, and I’m not trying to win. I’m trying to understand. And part of understanding is not surrendering my capacity to distinguish between an experience and the metaphysics derived from it. Feeling something as ultimate is not the same as demonstrating that it is ultimate. You say that once consciousness is high enough, feeling and ontology are the same. That might be true for you, but the fact that you tell me it’s true doesn’t make it true for me. If awakening is required, then the point is not that I agree with you, but that I verify something for myself. And verification requires more than repetition. It requires the space to think, to doubt, to examine. You accuse me of being stuck inside a mental egg, but cracking the shell by force doesn’t hatch a chick. It kills it. Growth has a rhythm. Insight has a process. And questioning isn’t the enemy of Truth. It’s the way we avoid confusing forceful conviction with clarity. I’m listening to you, Leo. I’m taking you seriously. But taking you seriously doesn’t mean I turn my mind off and call it enlightenment. With love and with my autonomy intact.

I appreciate the sentiment, but “just know Truth for yourself” can easily become a poetic way of avoiding the hard part. Discernment isn’t a mystical instinct you unlock, it’s a discipline. It requires doubt, reflection, and sometimes the humility to admit that even profound experiences can mislead us. Real inner realization comes from questioning our own certainty, not celebrating it.

You’re stepping over something important. You dismiss “private” as if the word itself were a misunderstanding, when the subjective sense of privacy is not a fiction. It’s a phenomenological reality. I have direct access to my qualia in a way I simply don’t have to yours. That doesn’t refute the Absolute. It only means the path to it still passes through a nervous system that is necessarily limited. “Become infinitely conscious, then you’ll know.” That’s the part I’m not taking for granted. You’re using your experience as the standard for what counts as knowing. But saying “you’d agree if you had my experience” isn’t an argument, it’s a circle. When you insist that what you’re talking about is not an interpretation, the issue is that everything expressed in language is a form of interpretation, even the claim that something isn’t. This doesn’t mean you’re not pointing to something profound. It simply means the statement “this is not an interpretation” is itself a linguistic move rather than a demonstration. Regarding the idea that I’m overlooking the possibility of an actual Absolute, I’m not overlooking it. I’m acknowledging that the human mind is extremely skilled at turning overwhelming experiences into ontological proclamations. That doesn’t make you wrong. It simply means the risk exists, and the risk deserves to be acknowledged. When you say that Truth doesn’t exist for me yet as something real and that I still treat it as a concept, I understand what you mean. But treating Truth as a concept doesn’t mean I’m denying its potential absolute nature. It means I’m unwilling to jump from experience to ontology without examining the jump itself. There is a difference between “this felt absolutely true” and “this is absolutely true for reality as a whole”. And when you claim that if someone is experiencing Infinity they can’t be wrong about it, you’re merging two different layers. First, introspective certainty, the sense that something is absolute. Second, metaphysical certainty, the claim that what feels absolute is universally absolute. The first is undeniable. The second requires argument, not just intensity. The experience of infinity proves that you felt infinite. It doesn’t automatically prove the structure of the universe. Certainty is real. Interpretation is optional. “Seeing red proves red exists.” Seeing red proves the experience exists. It doesn’t say anything about the metaphysics behind it. You’re mixing the feeling with the explanation. Skepticism applies to the conclusions you draw from experience, not the experience itself. Your moment may have been real to you, but the interpretation is never untouchable. To sum up, I am not dismissing your experience, Leo. I’m not even dismissing your conclusion. I’m questioning the idea that it cannot be an interpretation, and I’m not willing to collapse epistemology into an act of willpower. Mystical conviction and philosophical rigor serve different functions, and neither can replace the other.

But that’s exactly my point. If it all comes from experience, then you can’t use the experience itself as proof that your interpretation is the final structure of reality. The experience happens to you. The meaning you attach to it is still yours.

That statement is still coming from the same mind that had the overwhelming experience. It’s the narrative you built afterward, not the event itself. The experience may have felt like totality, but the interpretation is still a belief you formed about it.

I’m not disagreeing with the experience itself. I’m disagreeing with the conclusion you draw from it. A powerful moment where your sense of self collapses doesn’t automatically mean you’ve discovered the structure of the universe. It just means your usual identity wasn’t operating, and your mind filled that space with whatever concepts felt most meaningful at the time. People in extreme states regularly feel like they’re God, or the source, or the center of reality. The experience is real to them, but the interpretation is still a human interpretation. So I’m not saying your moment wasn’t important. I’m saying it isn’t automatic proof that reality works exactly the way it felt in that moment. That’s the only thing I’m pushing back on.

14 DAYS OF DRY FASTING My direct experience of the body, the cells, and consciousness awakening This is not theory. This is what I personally experienced when the body was cut off from all external input and forced to live on its own purity. Dry fasting is an ancient intelligence buried inside human biology, only activated when everything else is removed. Here is what happened, day by day. DAY 1 – The system shuts down It only takes a few hours. The body shuts off its old energy model. Hunger disappears quickly. Thirst feels like a vibration rather than a need. The cells drop into silence. The system locks the door behind you and signals that the process has begun. DAY 2 – The body begins making its own water When no water enters, the body starts producing its own. You feel a soft internal moisture, a subtle pressure inside the cells. It is as if the body condenses light, fat and ketones into water. A forgotten ancient mechanism wakes up. DAY 3 – Autofagy becomes intelligent The cleansing becomes noticeable, and it does not feel random. It feels deliberate. Jawline sharpens. Eyes become clearer. Skin becomes cleaner. Connective tissue tightens. It feels like the cells communicate with each other and remove everything that is dead or damaged with precision. DAY 4 – The nervous system resets A deep neurological reboot begins. The autonomic nervous system stops reacting to old patterns and scripts. Everything becomes still. Time moves slower. Sound becomes cleaner. The body returns to its original configuration. DAY 5 – Life force switches on This is the day the energy erupts. There is warmth inside the spine and a subtle vibration rising upward. It feels like weeks of energy retention compressed into a single day. This is not sexual energy. This is pure vitality, raw life force flowing freely. DAY 6 – The body consumes its old self Now the body begins eating everything that is damaged. Dead cells, inflammation, old connective tissue, lymphatic waste. Joints feel smoother. Skin looks younger. The entire system feels like it is dismantling an outdated version of me. DAY 7 – Emotional detox Emotions stored in the body begin to release. Not as thoughts or drama. As vibrations leaving the tissues. The chest opens. The neck relaxes. The solar plexus becomes light. Long-buried emotional tension dissolves like smoke. DAY 8 – The mind goes silent Thoughts almost disappear. Not because I force silence, but because the body enters a state where thoughts are no longer necessary. Awareness becomes clean. Stillness becomes endless. Consciousness sits unobstructed. DAY 9 – Vision upgrades This is one of the most surreal physical effects. Vision becomes razor sharp. Colors deepen. Light becomes more pure. Contrast increases. It is as if the brain flushed out years of toxins from the visual system. The face in the mirror looks younger and more alive. DAY 10 – Regeneration begins The body shifts from breakdown into rebuilding. Connective tissue tightens. Inflammation is gone. The lungs feel open. The ribcage expands. Every function feels new and more aligned, as if the body is reprogramming itself. DAY 11 – Light becomes energy I stand in the sun and the body absorbs it like food. Not as heat. As pure energy. The body feels photosynthetic, as if a higher biological mode has activated. Energy enters directly through light. DAY 12 – The illusion of the body reveals itself The boundary between body and awareness dissolves. The body no longer feels like “me”. It feels like a dream-form, an avatar I am observing. The real identity is consciousness behind the form. This is a profound metaphysical realization that arises naturally. DAY 13 – The ancient human wakes up Everything becomes instinctive, clean, sharp and present. It feels like the body remembers a much older version of humanity. There is primal clarity, primal focus, primal intelligence. A biological default mode that modern people never experience. DAY 14 – Rebirth The body feels new. Not repaired. New. Skin is clean and soft. The nervous system is reset. Perception is crystal clear. Life force circulates freely without blockages. Identity feels light and silent. It is a genuine rebirth on every level. Dry fasting is not a diet. It is a reprogramming of the human being from the cells to consciousness itself.

You aren’t meant to cling to one identity forever. You’re meant to evolve through them like chapters. Some chapters hurt. Some feel like cheating death over and over. But none of them are final. People panic when something in them dies. A belief. A desire. An attachment. A version of themselves. But death isn’t the enemy. Stagnation is. Rebirth isn’t a miracle. It’s maintenance. The system resets itself because it must. If you don’t shed the outdated versions of yourself, they rot and take you with them. Awareness keeps watching through it all. That’s the part of you that never breaks. The observer moves through identities the way fire moves through wood. It transforms everything it touches but remains untouched itself. You don’t need to fear physical death either. The thing you’re attached to is the storyline. The people. The memories. The familiar rooms of your life. But none of that is what you actually want. You want the feeling. The vibration. The aliveness that makes reality glow. And that never came from your history. It came from you. It came from awareness recognizing itself. So when something ends, let it. When something dies, don’t chase it. You’re not losing yourself. You’re just stepping out of another skin. The next one is already forming around you. Rebirth is the law here. Everything else is just a costume.

Thanks for the spoiler. Really thoughtful of you.

You’re assuming the tool replaces the person. It doesn’t. I decide what I say, the meaning, the tone, the direction. A hammer doesn’t build a house by itself, the builder does.

That analogy doesn’t really land. My posts aren’t drawings for my mother, they’re ideas. And ideas don’t lose their value just because the grammar is cleaned up. If the content is mine, the expression is mine. The tool doesn’t change that.

There’s a simple truth, you can’t convince someone of something they’re committed to not seeing. I’m not here to change your mind. Only to speak mine.