jjer94

hiding spot. Sometimes I want the world to fit inside my bubble to glisten in the sunlight in the comfort of enclosure as I merely slide on its reflective slopes like a kid in his back yard playing a game of pretend while the campfire crackles with fervor and the swing set creaks in the wind. But such is the nature of life to take me from my hiding spot and show me a place beyond pretend to rip the bandaid from my broken heart and pop the bubble that I so desperately thought was real.

chicken run, part 2. Chicken was on my mind because I planned to have it for dinner. So I just ate some chicken thigh with skin, stopping when my body said enough. Holy chicken shit! I'm having the opposite effect now. I feel like dead weight. Like a blob of moldy potatoes sitting in the cellar of some middle-aged gamer. Like all the life juice went out of my limbs and my brain, and into my stomach. All of my thinking and creative energy is sapped. It's like my life is in tunnel vision. Like all there is, is this computer screen in front of me. No imagination, no energy for a postprandial walk, nothing. I don't really like this. It felt like my body needed some chicken, so maybe I ate too much. Maybe I can get by with eating more legumes instead, because this is heavy, doc. Or maybe I can eat like the Blue Zoners, where they feast on animal foods once every week or so. This is so fascinating to me. A couple years ago, I ate a relatively healthy, balanced, meat-based paleo diet with no sense of this blobiness (cool, I just invented a new word) — or perhaps no awareness of it. Maybe I ate more of it because of how it dimmed my consciousness and stabilized my mood, because I was like a dam of repressed emotions. It gave me a sense of groundedness and control that I otherwise didn't have. It dimmed my sensitivity. But now I prefer my sensitivity! I prefer to feel things deeply. And that's one of the many reasons why I feel so good eating lighter. Because it brings me more in touch with my intuition, and I use my intuition now more than ever to guide my decision-making. I think I've made a permanent shift in my body over these past two years. Like I've cleansed physically and emotionally to the point where I notice that these heavier foods serve me less and less. I'm really excited about that, because that means I'll need to discipline myself less and less to eat healthier. I'll actually want to eat more plant-based foods because of the way they make me feel and perform in the moment, not because I have to eat them because of some ethical obligation. (Though the ethics of plant-based eating are definitely a plus.) We'll see how I feel after the chicken digests. Maybe I'll make another post about it.

chicken run. I haven't talked about diet for a long time because I had an eating disorder (i.e. toxic shame disorder) and didn't want to focus on it. But having now explored the diet world more from the realm of self-love, I have a few experiences to share. For the past two years or so, I've followed the Medical Medium approach. I knew about him for a while but was turned off because the guy kind of sounds like a used car salesman. After trying countless eating styles with no relief for my acne, digestive distress and other symptoms, I gravitated back to him and took his advice seriously. In case you guys are unfamiliar, it's basically a low-fat high-carb plant-based approach with an emphasis on fruits, vegetables, and tubers. In my experience, the guy is no joke. His suggestions relieved most of my symptoms within a year and a half of following his advice to a tee. Within the first month of his approach, I lost my craving for animal products completely. For several months I had really crazy cleansing reactions, like depersonalization spells, metallic tastes in the mouth, puffy face, and otherworldly sulfur farts. Symptoms got worse before they got better — a lot worse. But after around the six month mark, my body found a groove, and the major cleansing symptoms subsided. The moment my skin cleared up, I had persistent cravings for chicken thigh. I figured upping my plant fats, grains, and legumes would take care of it. It didn't. In the past, I would have fought the cravings using mental dogma. Whether veganism, spiritual enlightenment, raw foodism, Medical Medium-ism... I have a lot of tools under my belt to betray or second-guess my body's callings. Medical Medium says that animal product cravings are a sign of past adrenaline release, and the craving is a reflection of what we craved during the time of said traumatic event. Veganism says meat is murder. Spiritual enlightenment says meat is low vibration. Raw foodism says that we're not designed to eat meat, and it will just rot in our intestinal tract. But ever since my self-love shift, I've shifted my focus towards direct-experience learning rather than blindly believing a philosophy. The reason I followed Medical Medium was because at the time, my body was screaming for me to eat lighter fruits and veggies, and I've been incredibly satisfied with his approach. Now it seems my body is asking me to eat some heavier foods again. So I ate chicken the other day. It almost felt like I was possessed by the spirit of the animal. Like I had the energy of a chicken with my head cut off. It was so stimulating for me that I wanted to run a couple miles. The forward momentum was a bit uncomfortable. My libido increased. My sensitivity decreased. I felt the most grounded I've felt in a while. Here's my theory: Meat is a grounding stimulant, and in a not-ideal high-stress environment, it can most definitely be useful. I've been living in a stressful environment the past few weeks, so it's no wonder I'm craving it. Since I haven't been eating any exogenous cholesterol on a plant-based diet, all of my cholesterol production has been going towards cortisol and not testosterone, so I've been crazy-emotional and hyper-sensitive with low motivation and little libido. I think different chapters of life call for different foods. Diet must match our psycho-emotional state. If we cleanse too much too quickly for our bodies, we end up going mentally crazy like a lot of raw vegans. If we focus completely on enlightenment and don't cleanse the body in tandem, we end up with situations like Matt Kahn or Ramana Maharshi, where the vessel develops health issues because it can't anchor the light efficiently enough. I think in an ideal world, we'd all be raw foodists living a communal, low-stress life in the tropics. But we don't live in an ideal world. We live in a toxic cesspool, with chemicals that our bodies don't really know how to process. That's why I think taking the cleansing journey slowly and with compassion is my top priority now. No more trying to "get there." Just try to eat what feels good for me in this environment, at this time in my life, with love and awareness.

@Privet Hi there! The main reasons at the time were different priorities...but the plot thickens. I'll probably give some updates on here at some point.

soul-siphoner and the puddle of tears. Yesterday was hilariously insane. I embodied the Coldplay lyric, "When you feel so tired but you can't sleep." I woke up early with dry eyes due to adrenaline. I had woken up a few hours before my normal time the previous three days. I also haven't had a day off in over a week, and the stress has built in my body like a pressure cooker. Unfortunately, it couldn't come out as flatulence. The previous night, I had received a major offer for a new editing gig that blew my socks off. I had to figure out the logistics for that. In the meantime, I had a gig scheduled from 3-5 and an interview for a co-op scheduled almost directly after that. By the time I was done figuring out the logistics, the break-up grief hit me like a freight train. So there I was, collapsed on my bed, right before a gig, running on minimal sleep, bawling my brains out. I couldn't finish crying before I had to leave, so I kept bawling in the car. I was in a puddle of tears by the time I arrived at the venue. I somehow played a two-hour set. Then I ran an errand and returned home for the interview. It was all women So I spent a good half an hour talking to these people, knowing perfectly well that I wouldn't be picked and wouldn't want to live there anyways. One of them had this glare that siphoned souls. One of them had the endless smile — the kind where you can't tell if they're happy to see you or want to murder you. I answered one of the interview questions completely wrong, because I didn't have time to read the materials beforehand and was still running on adrenaline. The soul-siphoner grunted with subtle disdain. The endless smiler, with a big shit-eating grin, thanked me for my time and said goodbye. I sent a blessing to all of them and went upstairs. I finally had some time to myself, where I had the digestive strength to eat a few steamed potatoes and then — surprise — cry some more. It was a fun day. It may not sound like much to some people, but in the context of my body and my life right now, I beg to differ.

the desire for fame. Yet another realization I've had through all of this: The desire for fame is an ultimately destructive way to meet the needs for connection and self-esteem that can be met in much more life-generating ways, such as quality relationships and self-love. As a semi-anonymous pleb, how do I know anything about fame? I don't; that's why I claim the desire for fame to be destructive, not fame itself. However, I do talk from the perspective of someone who has the desire to be famous. I grew up in an extremely competitive environment and went to the top high school in my state. I was frequently ostracized from friend groups. My childhood environment was stressful. I was raised in the Stage Orange cultural programming that your worth is directly related to your achievements. That combination of ingredients created a nasty warlock stew of workaholism, self-isolation, loneliness, toxic shame, trauma, and...whatdya know, a strong desire to be famous. I had a guru-like grandiosity about me that can be easily recognized if you read my earliest entries on this forum. I thought I had all the answers. I thought I was hot spiritual shit, like everyone else was sleepwalking and I was the only "woke" one. Through my breakdowns in 2018, when I was holed up in my parents' basement (as I am now), I realized that I used my grandiosity to create a psychic moat — to separate myself and prevent anyone from rejecting me again. I also used it to create a false image of myself that I could accept, because I hated my ordinary authentic self who I thought at the time was weird, boring, unpredictable, and unlovable. Thus, the only way I (subconsciously) thought I could meet my needs for human connection and self-esteem was to manipulate people to like the false image of me. And to keep the charade going, I would need lots and lots and lots of people to prop it up. Since initiation risks rejection, I figured why not get good at something and have people come to me. Hence, the desire for fame. Enter self-love. Giving love to myself in the ways that feel loving to me has boosted my self-esteem more than anything I've ever done on the outside. It's relaxed my nervous system and has allowed me to enjoy the little things a little more. Enter my ex. She helped me break through all of my psychic moat defense mechanisms. I re-lived some of my deepest connection wounds. I cried (and continue to cry) some of the deepest tears from the depths of my painful body. And near the end of the relationship, I reached a point where I could be almost totally relaxed in front of her as my vulnerable, boring self underneath the grandiosity. At that point, I had no desire to be famous. I could care less that a million people loved my music, because I felt physically safe, accepted myself, and was with a significant other who completely saw me and accepted me, too. That was enough. That was truly satisfying. I directly experienced a level of belonging and connection with someone that I had never before experienced in my life, and I can't un-experience it. I expanded in ways that I couldn't while single. It's made me rethink my priorities in life. And it's sure as heck made me question my desire for fame.

a devastating gift. Today was another doozy. I cried enough to fill an almond milk carton. Actually, I sobbed so hard and screamed in delicate pain. I dropped so deeply into the wound that I became a baby again, sobbing for his mother that didn't come to the rescue. The full-body experience of abandonment is not for the faint of heart. It's an experience of ultimate separation and aloneness. Like you're alone on this island surrounded by a black sea of infinity. The direct experience of God is often described like that from people (like me) whose nervous systems are heavily traumatized from childhood abandonment, whether physical or emotional. That's basically what I experienced when I tried 5-MeO last year; it was too much for me to handle at this point in my life. It dislodged all of my deep traumas and threw them at me simultaneously. "Threw" was not an exaggeration; it was like twenty Tom Brady's chucked emotional footballs at full throttle directly into my solar plexus. Not fun. Humbling to the utmost degree, but not fun. Today was not very fun, either. It's even less fun when you're surrounded by people who are incapable of holding space for you, and in fact they deny your feelings if you try to share them. That's why self-love has been absolutely crucial for me. I've been supporting myself exclusively through all of this grief — holding and caressing myself, visualizing angelic beings wrapping their wings around me and validating all of my grief, telling myself that I am never alone, that I will never leave my side, that I will be with me for as long as I need to process these heavy emotions. Honestly it's some next-level shit, and I'm really proud of myself, for lack of a better term. I feel empowered to face difficult emotions even when my nervous system says I'm going to die, because I've survived every ordeal up to this point. And I've learned valuable lessons from these experiences, as well as garnered a decent amount of compassion for myself, for everyone else on this journey, and even for the people who numb and refuse to go on it, because this shit is hard. This whole process has been so so sad because I love her and miss her...and simultaneously, this whole process has been a gift. A devastating gift. Even if this break-up grief never goes away, at least I'm feeling things.

it's hard to be human. Break-up grief is like an unpredictable parent. Sometimes it leaves you in peace for hours or days; other times it will suddenly smother you until you're gasping for air. Yesterday was one of those smothering days. I cried enough to fill a mason jar, probably close to an hour. I didn't realize just how much I care for her until she was gone. I didn't realize a lot of things about this relationship until after the fact, when the dust settled and I could have my much needed alone time to recalibrate my nervous system. For one, humans have needs. No more bullshit spiritual bypassing for me. I can no longer pretend that I can transcend my emotional pain by taking psychedelics or being a masochistic meditator. I need real, authentic human connection with others and myself. I've needed it my whole life without being able to admit it until now. I see clearly now that I've built an island of loneliness and defense mechanisms. With enough time and awareness, I will likely gravitate more towards community and social interaction, because I can't un-experience the level of intimacy and fulfillment that I experienced in relationship. Second thing — I'm not perfect. I don't think I've ever made more mistakes in my life than in this relationship. I experienced what it's like to be a "bad" person, which to my nervous system feels like death. But through my willingness to experience those feelings, I came to accept my shortcomings...which then allows me to work on them. Third thing — No one else is perfect. Everyone else makes mistakes, too. Which is an opportunity to cultivate grace and acceptance for the "right" people — the people who are willing to learn from those mistakes. Fourth thing — Mistakes, while they may be painful, are not bad. They are crucial for learning through direct experience and garnering wisdom. Mistakes create pain, and pain is an indication that something is out of alignment, whether it be a belief system or something on the outside (habits, relationships, societal things, etc.). Pain is a call to change something, not something to sit through like a masochistic PD junkie or numb like an escapist average joe of society. By learning through pain, we can become more sensitive to what brings higher pleasure. So ultimately, "mistakes" are not mistakes; they are part of the process of self-actualization. But they still suck. Fifth thing — It's hard to be human. I've gleaned so many other winsights (wow, I accidentally combined "wisdom" and "insights") in the past month, many of which I can't really put into words yet. But that's the gist of what I have so far, without going into too much detail. I don't regret entering this relationship one bit. It was a highlight of my life. I see now why everyone is obsessed with romantic relationships. They're the bread and butter of life. What an honor and blessing to see and hear her, so emotionally naked, and be received in the same way. What a lovely soul.

@Zigzag Idiot Thank you for the kind words For those of you who have Spotify, you can also listen to it there: https://open.spotify.com/album/4Fiag5AtdcsM60NjEbBWc2?si=M2YtF-Z4SGmSpth2W1nZwA

I must be crazy. They taught me how to memorize how to be a good boy how to obey the ones who know everything how to give away the little voices in my head telling me lies to the ones on the outside who not only know everything but also tell nothing but the truth If I'm depressed it's my fault If I lash out or say something contrary to what They say there must be something wrong with me If I dream of a day where I respect and listen to the little voices in my head I must be crazy.

with a side of cod. More on the topic of coping mechanisms... The reason I don't beat myself up anymore when it comes to coping mechanisms (i.e. undesirable behaviors) is because I think they're meeting needs I don't realize I have. And until I recognize those needs and avenues to meet them in healthier ways, the undesirable behaviors are the only way I know how to meet them. It's like eating a food that curbs hunger but has trace amounts of poison in it. If you don't know any other food that can curb your hunger and doesn't have poison, why beat yourself up for eating it? There's a part of you that really needs it to stave off hunger. Maybe there's also a part of you that has an unmet need for physical intimacy, and the compounds in said food release oxytocin in your bloodstream. This food, even though it has trace amounts of poison, is the best you have at the moment. In the same way, there's a part of me that still enjoyed playing COD the other night, even though the consequences were negative. My obsession with video games in the past was because it met a lot of unmet needs for me: a sense of accomplishment, self-esteem, excitement, stimulation of the imagination, adventure, and adrenaline. But now that I'm meeting a lot of those needs through other avenues, the pull towards video games is much less than it used to be. (Side note: If you're wondering why I put down "adrenaline," it's because I would forget to eat whenever I played video games as a kid, and the resultant adrenaline gave me a sense of euphoria and curbed my appetite. Now that I prioritize eating lots of fruits and vegetables, the urge to do adrenaline-producing activities is much weaker than it used to be.) I think the reason I've been drawn to COD is because I'm craving a sense of adventure that I haven't been getting here. Instead of the negative consequences of a frantic brain state and adrenaline-fueled body, perhaps I can find another way to meet this need. I'm going to read more history and see what happens. And if I go back to the video games again, I know there's more to it than adventure.

warlock soup. I suppose it's time to give an update. So much has happened in the past month and a half that my life feels like something out of a coming-of-age movie. But I'm assuming that's been the case with everyone. Between COVID, the racial tensions, and the rioting, everything is so surreal, like the distorted reflection on a dewdrop. All the feels are getting boiled into this massive pot of Warlock Soup, where the borders between positive and negative emotions don't even matter anymore. It's all just. Feels. And all we can do is feel. Well, we can also go to the bathroom if we have two functioning legs and can travel to the nearest toilet, but that's besides the point. The point is, I broke up with my girlfriend; two days later, I moved out of the Artist's Den and back in with the parents and brother; one day after that, my brother and I began to formulate plans for another move; I'm starting to gig again. Oh, and I released the album. Perfect timing! (You can check it out here, if you're curious.) The timing of the breakup and the way it happened wasn't the best, but it could have been worse. I think I'll dedicate a separate post to it, because there's a lot to unpack. Long story short — I am so, so incredibly grateful that we were in a relationship; I grew like crazy through all of it; she is an amazing human; I wish her all the best on her journey; and who knows what the future holds. Some major transformation has happened — and yesterday was a huge benchmark for it. My brother brought the XBOX up here. I've been watching him play here and there, but I haven't been playing any of it myself. But yesterday, I decided, what the heck, let's play a few rounds of COD. After a few rounds, my body was nearly having a trauma response. I had the urge to crawl out of my skin. I felt terrible! I literally had to shake my body for a few minutes, take a cold shower, sing, do breathing exercises, eat dates and greens, and even that didn't bring me back to equilibrium. Three hours later, I could finally go to sleep. In the morning, I woke up drowsy with dry eyes — a sign of adrenaline surge. After some celery juice, I finally returned to my equilibrium. I've reached a new level of nervous system relaxation (i.e. level of consciousness, i.e. level of self-love) where I literally cannot do some of the old activities I used to do to cope. They're not really enjoyable for me anymore. I mean, I can't say that I didn't enjoy it completely last night, but the stimulation and the frantic brain state caused me more pain in the long run. I'd much rather be writing songs, or reading a book, or learning something new. This has been the case for other activities too, like eating junk food, spending too much time in front of a screen, or browsing social media. I still have coping mechanisms and relapses, but I'm slowly changing my life one step at a time so I can hopefully reach a point where I won't need any of them anymore. And in the meantime, I won't beat myself up for using coping mechanisms. Having this level of self-compassion has made life a lot more manageable for me. I wish compassion for you, too. It's been a rough few months. Be gentle with yourself. ?

a psychological food fight. Still kicking! LOL, I did not anticipate this corona thing to explode. Maybe I shouldn't laugh about it, though, because there are people out there who are genuinely struggling, working their asses off to save people, losing their jobs, victims in abusive homes, getting divorces, getting really really sick, and having mid-life crises. I really feel for those people, and for everyone else, really. I feel for them as much as I'm emotionally available, because I've had my own struggles, too. Not really life-or-death struggles, just the struggles of being myself in front of a significant other; living under the same roof; setting boundaries without being a douche; communicating in less shitty ways; finding time/prioritizing to do stuff like this; engaging in the social media game; getting majorly triggered and processing it in a loving, constructive manner; getting enough sleep; and other stuff. I've gleaned so many insights and grown so much from being in relationship, it's insane. For one, I'm finally beginning to realize on a nervous-system level that I am not the center of the universe. There's another person in my life whose happiness and well-being I've taken as my own. This person has personality traits, desires, needs, and dreams that are different than mine, and I've had to realize that. By realizing that on a microcosmic level, I'm realizing it on a macrocosmic level. Everyone is unique in those ways, too. I've learned to be more respectful and accepting towards everyone else's personality traits, desires, needs, and dreams. Loving her is teaching me how to love everyone, including myself. So many spiritual teachers tell you that all the love you need is inside of you. I used to buy that, but now I call bullshit. On a fundamental level, it is true. On another level (the level where most of us reside), the world is full of talking, breathing mirrors that trigger the shit out of you and show you how unloving you are to yourself and others. Sometimes, you need one of these mirrors to give you love in order to prove that you are lovable. And once that happens, you have permission to love yourself even deeper than before. Being in a monogamous conscious relationship takes the self-love journey into the nervous system. It brings up the oldest, moldiest, most encrusted wounds in your emotional body and starts a psychological food fight. There have been times where the emotional releases from relationship conflict feels as though I'm on a psychedelic. I've also learned that mistakes are inherent to any kind of growth—but especially in relationship. I've been such an idiot these past six months. I've said and done some pretty stupid shit to her. It's brought up a lot of old shame for me, stuff that I've repressed with introversion and perfectionism. But I'm ready to face it, as terrible as it feels. I'm ready to give myself the compassion and love that nobody has ever given me in those moments. It's yucky and mucky, but that's life, I guess. I've lost so much already—what's another sock? I can afford to lose another sock. There's much more, and when I can muster the wherewithal I will explain. But until then, I wish everyone health and happiness in these strange times.

the leviathan of my twenties. Over the past couple months, I've come face-to-face with the leviathan of my twenties. It's green, lean, sometimes slimy, and cuts my hands if I'm not careful. It follows me wherever I go, is always concerning, waiting for the perfect moment to fuck me over and leave me in the streets. Money. I have a love-hate relationship with it. While I know that on a fundamental level money is not as big of an issue as the psychological makeup of the people that use it, I still my grit my teeth at the mention of it. While I see how useful it is in the context of a very diverse society, I also see how it can be used as a tool of control, oppression, and injustice. I'm one of those people who hopes for the idealistic fantasy that one day, all of humanity will resolve their traumas and emotional issues, we'll shift into the fifth dimension, and then we won't need money anymore because we'll all be aligned with our life purpose and intrinsically motivated to do productive stuff that positively contributes to all of humanity. But part of my desire for this has to do with the fact that I'm financially drowning. I want to avoid money because it's fucking annoying to me and difficult to acquire. I would be seriously screwed if not for my financially fortunate upbringing. I needed these several years of financial buffering to realize that I have several psychological challenges (e.g. ADD, depression, anxiety, traumatic childhood, etc.) that will make becoming a self-reliant adult a longer process for me compared to most people. So at the same time, thank fucking heavens for money. I'm kind of an outlier in society. I can't last at any part-time job for more than six months without quitting in boredom and frustration. I hate being told what to do. The only kind of jobs that have worked for me thus far are ones that I can set my own schedule, do self-directed tasks, and use my brain power on varied projects. So far, that's been musical gigs, housesitting (i.e. getting paid to write songs and cuddle furry dogs), writing, and editing work. The latter definitely shows promise. The thing with the music stuff, unfortunately, is that I have to pay to be a musician. There's no profit in it. All of the money I make from gigs is funneled back into the music. It feels really unfair to me. That I am this way, that I am so different. That I can't do the 9-to-5 thing. That I have to go the extra mile in order to follow my passions. That I have to go through this phase of being poor and financially stressed. That society doesn't reward artists (you know, people who actually pursue real healing and face their inner demons for the well-being of everyone) as much as doctors, lawyers, and the other sectors that maintain the structural integrity of the machine. But such is life. I'm pretty sure a lot of my financial stress is inherited, but that doesn't change the reality that I have to assume full responsibility for my stress and my financial well-being. Writing that makes me want to punch myself in the face.

depression review. I... don't even know. Seriously, what the fuck has happened over the past month? Feels like I've aged a few years! I'm not sure if it was the relationship, the time of year, something in the air, lack of sunlight, being in a new place, or all of the above...but I sank into a really deep depression. Almost as deep as when I was in the studio apartment in 2017. It actually felt like a review of that depression. My body turned into sticky molasses, and my mind turned into jello. I collapsed on the floor in front of the furnace at least a few times per week, having no desire to live my life or to do much of anything. I just stewed in my own disillusionments. The major disillusionments happened in my relationship. For one, I realized all of the ways my ideals have created barriers to giving and receiving love. I had this image in my head of what my partner would look and be like, and because the current one doesn't perfectly fit that ideal, I've been subconsciously noncommittal. The thing is, no one will ever fit that ideal to a tee. No one's perfect. So part of my process is letting go of my ideals, which is really fucking hard. On a similar note, I will never fit my own ideals. I'm a flawed human with neuroses, manipulations, attachment issues, and hang-ups. I've entirely realized my imperfection through being in relationship, which has conflicted with my perfectionistic ideals about myself and caused a lot of suffering. However, the beautiful power of being in a relationship is that it's forced me to look at all of my imperfections and learn to love myself anyways. I spent most of my childhood in front of a TV screen playing video games. I've come a long way, and I can cut myself some slack for not being perfect at a realm of life in which I have little experience. More disillusionment in the realm of career/finances, too. I realized on a deeper level that things won't just fall into my lap. I need to be more schedule-oriented and personally accountable. For instance, I plan to release an album in a month and have yet to implement a promotion process. More on the depression, I discovered through shamanic-esque journeying that there's a part of me that doesn't want to commit to life. That part sits in my solar plexus and is in so much pain. I don't know what to do except sit with it and give it loving attention and validation without acting on its desires. I'm done trying to convince that part of myself that its reality is not valid, even if it's a dark one. The sun returned a couple days ago after a several week absence, and my body feels like a recharged battery. I ran today for the first time in a couple weeks. Seems like the depression is leaving. The depression may have been very similar to the one in 2017, but my relationship to it has drastically changed. I've stopped fighting it. I've stopped fighting most of my emotions. They all have a say in my psyche. They all have valuable wisdom to share. And they all show me, time and time again, that surrender is victory.

@Marc Schinkel Been listening to this song in the car a lot lately. The only thing that bothers me is the "Da da da da" part. Come on, Tom. You couldn't think of any other lyrics? Thank you for sharing ??

a journey to somewhere. Chapter 5. The snow eased up on this quiet Sunday, but it's still sprinkling outside like sifted powdered sugar. I'm sitting in my new place, the Artist's Den, next to the warming furnace, which feels a bit like a fireplace at this point. I just ate my morning smoothie -- yes, ate, because it's thick like pudding. Don't judge me. I've got a fetish for goopy things. I retrospect (I guess that's a verb now) on the past year with a sense of awe. Wow. The transformation is very apparent, not just with my outer choices and activities but with my inner state and the way I treat myself. Like a canvas always next to the palette, I'm always a work in progress. But I can most definitely appreciate how far I've come over the past year. At this time last year, I was freezing my ass off at the intentional community (which I happened to visit last night, oddly enough, to say hi and catch up with everyone). I felt like I had a newfound sense of direction and purpose, but I was still very lost and still hurting over a lot of unresolved grief. I had already cried buckets, but I had yet to cry rivers. I was exploring my psyche and being vulnerable with the people around me. I returned to performing and making music, which then set off a chain reaction of events that led me to tons and tons of musical gigs in the summer. While that happened, I met an attractive girl, started dating, and realized how neurotic I really am. I learned that building a healthy ego ought to be my top priority, not transcending a hurt, unintegrated ego -- because that intention itself came from a hurt, unintegrated ego. I tried 5-MeO for the first time and had a very, very difficult healing crisis. I tried a heavier dose of mushrooms for the first time and had an equally difficult healing crisis. I am grateful for both of these experiences, as they solidified in me the realization that my highest priority for the inner world is self-love and self-compassion. And if that's the case, then my highest priority in the outer world is to commit to this character -- to return to this body fully. I started a running habit out of the joy of running. Most of my work is done out of the joy of working. My sense of trust is stronger than before. My emotional ups and downs are still very strong, but the way I process and handle them is totally different. My life is transforming from the inside out from the simple yet difficult intention of self-love. Now with the new decade, I find myself literally and figuratively in a new place. My music is becoming more niche. I'm doing things more out of love/joy than obligation. I fell in love with someone who's also doing the inner work, which has honestly been the highlight of these past few months. Things are very different. I feel like I'm actually going somewhere. The last time I was living alone, I almost starved myself to death. I cloistered myself in the apartment and had several subtle addictions. Now, I'm reaching out to people every day, giving gifts, dating someone, and doing enjoyable activities. This is a reflection of the change in my relationship with myself. It'll only get more apparent from here. I have personal goals for this new year, but the one intention I want to share for 2020 is this: As much as possible, ask yourself "What would someone who loves themselves do in this moment?"

a year in review. This past year was action-packed and transformative in the best ways. Here's what happened: I lived in an intentional community for more than a year I worked through massive triggers around entitlement, socializing, and people in general I saw through the illusion of fame and hierarchy by working with a gentle, wise old man I stopped playing video games entirely, with the realization that it was my intentions behind playing them that was unhealthy, and not the video games themselves I got an IIN certification for health coaching I've been eating plant-based without effort or willpower for over a year after intuition told me to eat more fruits and veggies I started songwriting again after a half-year hiatus I went to open mics again after a long hiatus I played in a school variety show, which sparked the interest of venues around town I gigged for the first time at said venues and overcame my performance anxiety I started posting demos of original and cover songs on my facebook page I recorded an album in a professional music studio I entered a short-lived karmic relationship in the summer that dissolved long-held codependent patterns around being the rescuer I took 5-MeO-DMT, re-lived an in utero trauma, dry-heaved grief and shame out of my body like it was day-old pizza with anchovies, and realized how little I know about myself and about life, which humbled the fuck out of me I took the highest dose of mushrooms that I've ever taken, yipped like a coyote, learned that sexual orientation is a nuanced spectrum, realized that my sense of self is more of a mosaic with multiple personalities than a singular entity, and realized that I'm hardly ever in my body and need to lovingly bring myself back into my body I started a running habit without effort in November to help bring myself back into my body I started a back-unmangling habit to work on my posture and dissolve knots in my back I met an absolutely amazing woman who I am now dating who gives me strength, courage, and the privilege to genuinely appreciate another human being, as well as reflect back to me all of the ways that I do and don't love myself so that I can grow into the greatest version of myself I sat through some of the darkest, most profane self-hating thoughts I've ever received from my mind and somehow survived I realized the inevitable futility of self-hatred, which gives me more compassion for it I realized that my nervous system is awakening to the truth of reality, not my mind I learned that the journey of awakening is not a journey of trying to get there, but of bringing awakening to here I realized that I have a lot to learn in the self-love department I realized that it's okay to have sexual desire and preferences I learned the true power of emotions, as well as how to feel them without acting on them I grieved buckets I got over my fear of vomiting I had difficult, vulnerable talks with my family members that went really well in the end I moved (yesterday) into a hobbit house that is perfect for my needs as well as my stature My new years resolution last year was to come out of hiding, and that I most definitely did. I look at 2020 with a mixture of excitement and terror. The parts of me that are ready for the new life are excited, while the parts of me that still run on self-hatred, coping, and conditioning are shaking in their boots. All part of the process, I suppose! It's like, what the heck else am I going to do besides this life? God is always waiting. But so is my Higher Self.

the jarring gravity of Real Life®. I'm spent. In the beginning, I was so excited for self-actualization and spiritual awakening. I thought it would be like a walk in the park because of how passionate and disciplined I am. Just do some new habits over and over and wham-o, a new shiny self that has a private jet and meditates like a boss and is loved by millions of people for doing some super creative work that helps raise the collective consciousness. It's funny how the mind projects my self-actualized self, thinking it has a say in how things will turn out. That projection's getting squashed, day by day, by the jarring gravity of Real Life®. Nonono, in order to create, you need to spend more than half of your day doing other things you're less passionate about in order to have food, shelter, and running water. Nonono, in order to have a soul mate, you have to realize that they're a person too, with needs and desires of their own, and you need to actually listen to their perspective, take it to heart, and think about their well-being, too. Nonono, in order to have a friend, you need to be a friend. Nonono, you don't make it out of this self-actualization journey alive. You are not the one who enjoys the spoils of the inner work. You are transformed from the inner work. You will not recognize yourself in the mirror after doing this work long enough. Nonono, life is not separate from this work. The events of Real Life® coax you to do the work, day after day, and you can either go with it or resist the whole process. Oh, and you can't really control whether you go with it or whether you resist it, because that's a part of the process, too. And by the way - everyone is on this journey, not just the people who are aware of it. I guess I'm one of the stubborn personalities that resists this awakening process to no end. It's so funny how I thought I was on board with all of this stuff. It's like I signed a contract before I even knew what it truly entailed. Maybe that's the point though. Maybe that whole "soul contract" idea is a real thing, and the reason we sign up to live this Life thing is in order to go through this process of resistance and surrender, resistance and surrender - because it's by living this process that we can actually truly embody the qualities that inspire us, like humility and respect and love and compassion - the qualities of a unified consciousness - and truly understand what it means to be One. And no matter how many times some guru says "let go" or "stop searching" or "tat tvam asi," that doesn't grant us a get-out-of-life's-pain pass. This reality sucks to the person writing this right now. But then again, it doesn't, when I look back on all that I've been through, and how it's shaped me into the psychologically pre-pubescent kid I am today. I mean, sure, I ought to win an award for "Most Triggers in A Single Week" or "Most Melodrama for Part Time Work." But damn...what I was before all of this, before my friend's suicide... I don't even know what that was. So it's the end of the year, and I'm spent. All this Life stuff has squeezed the resistance out of me, and I'm just plain tired. Time to reflect on the decade, my intentions, and plan a new chapter. I hope everyone's holiday season has been delightful, and I wish you all health, well-being, and peace on your journeys. <3

coming clean. I am currently lounging on a carpet that looks like it's from the 90s in a house by myself with two adorable old geezer dogs. Thank heavens. I am so grateful for this housesitting opportunity, as I can go to the family holiday festivities during the day and be here alone for the evenings. I need this alone time to recharge from the adrenal shitstorm that has plagued my body and mind this past week. I haven't been doing too well, to be honest. I mean, I'm okay, but I'm not okay. To my body, it feels as though my world is coming to an end. And in a lot of ways, it is. The changes have been abrupt, and the emotions have been running wild. Here's a sample platter: In less than a week, I'll be moving into my new place, an actual furnished house with above-poverty-level amenities. I still haven't found work, but I met with a job counselor and am in the process of applying to places that don't necessarily excite me. In the relationship department, my own neuroses are sabotaging things again and bringing up a lot of guilt and shame. And in the family department, I'm considering the implications of estrangement. My brother and I got into a big fight the other morning, and it unleashed a lot of pain for both of us. I exposed my truth in a really unproductive way. I was subconsciously pushing him away. But he saw through it and said stuff that broke down my walls. I bawled in front of him - something I've never done before - and he held me through it - something he's never done before. It was one of the most beautiful, intimate, cathartic experiences I've had with him. I expressed the fear underneath the anger and hurt. I told him I am genuinely afraid of becoming so different in values and worldview from the family that I will be ostracized and estranged. I'm afraid of losing the familial parts of my identity. I see the trajectory of my self-actualization, and I see how my personality will no longer mesh well with the family, and I'm afraid of complete rejection. And underneath all of that fear...was shame. I told my brother that I am ashamed of being so different, of spending my entire life starving to find a shred of belonging, only to be rejected most of the time. I am ashamed of being so arrogant, self-absorbed, and pioneering, because it doesn't mesh well with most people. I am ashamed of being myself in a world made for the exact opposite personality. Instead of being blunt or harsh with me, he sympathized and listened as I processed all of these vulnerable emotions right in front of him. We apologized for hurting each other, and now our connection is even stronger and deeper. That moment was incredibly healing. It felt like I came clean from a lie that I had been holding for years. Waves of relief washed through my body as I realized that I was being loved more for exposing this side of myself, which was the opposite of what I expected. For the longest time I've been pushing my family away because I figure that I can evade my own shame by rejecting them first before they reject me. That's one of my prime defense mechanisms: Push away people in order to avoid conflict, dependence (i.e. asking for help), and triggering my own shame. But now I see that if I want to live a life centered in the heart, I need to drop my defenses and come clean. I need to healthily express my anger, my hurt, my fear, and my shame to the ones I love. I need to ask for help where it's needed. I've reached a point where I love myself too much to not do these things. If they can't respect and accept the new me with new boundaries and new beliefs, then things will have to change. And that's okay. Change is okay. Adulthood is on the horizon, and every last vestige of childhood is being released with every teardrop. This is no longer a Journey to Anywhere. I'm actually going somewhere.

human dog training. I really don't like the dictionary definition of discipline anymore: "the practice of training people to obey rules or a code of behavior, using punishment to correct disobedience." The entire sentence has this underlying connotation of resistance - as though in order to discipline someone, you have to force them against their will. That's what I used to think discipline meant - basically dog training. I have to force myself to do something I really don't want to do in order to attain some reward in the future. In this perspective, the assumption is that I would much rather sit on the couch and eat doritoes all day than pursue "higher" aspirations. So in order to "fight" that urge, I have to train myself and "watch" myself repeatedly so the laziness demon doesn't overtake me once again. For years I did this human dog training. Deep down, I really fought the urge to be hedonistic. If I could, I would sit on my ass all day a la Jabba the Hut. Yet whenever I had the chance to be Jabba the Hut for a day or two, I'd feel even worse than before. A couple years ago, I reached a point where I was both miserable when I "disciplined" myself and miserable when I sat on my ass. It was a Sisyphean struggle to do this meditation and eat that way. Life felt like this big-ass burden of checklists to cross...for what? To become more conscious? What does that do? Where am I going with this? What's the point? I crumbled on my bed in emotional turmoil. I realized that doing stuff for some future reward, while nice, can't be the primary reason for doing everything, because to live for the future is to live for a place that doesn't exist. All there is, is this moment, in all its boring, angsty, uncomfortable anticlimacticness. And I can either totally commit to this or check out. In the falling apart and facing my pain in this natural turn of events, I realized that discipline is not about the reward at the end. It's about showing up. Discipline requires no punishment, because ultimately, I have no ultimate destination, agenda, or outcome - except for remembering what it means to show up in every moment. Showing up and choosing to fully experience whatever is in the present moment is my only discipline to master. With this shift in perspective, my discipline is softer, more light-hearted, actually desirable, enjoyable, and much more preferable to being Jabba the Hut.

raspberry jam. Howdy guys. It's been awhile! Here's a little update. I'd like to delve into more nuanced topics at some point and work on my writing chops, but this is all I've got at the moment... Honestly, too much has happened over the past month or so. It feels like I'm a mason jar, and Life just fuckin' packed me full of jam till I'm overflowing with raspberry decadence. No doubt, raspberry tastes delicious - but too much raspberry can make you go a little crazy. Here's a sampler of that raspberry jam... I recorded an album with the help of a professional producer and musicians. It turned into a cross-pollinating, multi-genre epic centered around grief, childhood trauma, opening the heart, and self-actualization. And during the recording process, I turned into a frenetic, disorganized, stressed-out mess. I'm still kind of a mess. A good mess, though. I heavily underestimated all of the tasks that go into releasing an album. The marketing/social media side is literally half the battle...a battle I really prefer not to fight. But it's important, so I'm doing it anyway. I think the social media stuff is stretching me more than the album creation, because it's triggering a lot of jealousy, shame, and abandonment issues in me that are ready to be processed. I'm getting my own place. Finally. Living in community was perfect for where I was, and so was living with the parents...but I feel ready to have my own place. Wish granted from the Universe, because a friend referred me to a landlord who has a place that has my name written all over it. The next task, and my most challenging one, is to... Find a day job. I've been avoiding this reality for a long time: In order to support myself and my art, I need side income. The day job has been a huge trigger for me. Ever since my friend committed suicide halfway through my college career, I established a subconscious resistance against institutionalized work. I've always disliked being told what to do, but now that dislike is the worst it's ever been. That's why I've avoided day jobs for years. The only one I had that lasted six months at a time was dog walking. Instead, I've done a lot of work exchanges, like the one on the road trip, and the most recent one in the intentional community. I'm ready to face this reality now. I'm ready to truly support myself. I think it will be very empowering for me when I accomplish this goal, because it will cut my ties of financial dependency. Of course, just as important is doing the inner work of claiming energetic sovereignty...which requires more grieving. Speaking of grieving. Lots of that lately. I've been using breathwork to process all of the crazy things that have been happening in my life. And waves and waves of grief are releasing. In order to really grow into the person I want to be, I need to grieve childhood. I need my nervous system to realize that that era is over - that I am an adult as much as a child now. And adults can take care of themselves. Relationship. Yeah, that happened. And it hit hard. Besides family members, I don't think I've never felt so deeply for someone in my life. It's not even intense feelings, just the sincere wish for this person to be happy and well. It's way deeper than the previous relationship. This has truly been medicine for me. We're both into PD, so we do the work together whenever we're triggered. I've flexed my vulnerability muscles, and so has she. Even so, we're taking it slow - and I'm extremely grateful for that. Just so grateful and appreciative in general for this opportunity and this person in my life. Spirituality has taken the back-burner. My experience in the summer with 5-MeO and my recent experience with the golden teacher has shown me that self-transcendence must yield to self-integration. I can't sit in my room and meditate/read for hours anymore. I can't escape being human. I have wounds to heal, emotions to process, and things to do in the world. I'm following my heart now, and my heart says - be human. Have an ego. Be afraid, be vulnerable, get triggered for little things, eat rich food sometimes, don't beat yourself up for missing a day of meditation. The mushrooms also encouraged me to start an exercise routine that brings me joy, in order to ground myself in my body. Almost instinctively, I started running. I've been doing it for a few weeks now in the snow, and I love it! I look forward to seeing my chicken legs turn into tree trunks So how about that raspberry jam... All great stuff, just a lot of it! I've got to remember to lick my lips sometimes. I hope all y'all are doing well. Take care of yourself this holiday season. ?

@modmyth LOL! Thank you for sharing I love the metaphor of the hamster wheel. Reminds me of this quote:

the ephemerality of everything. I just had a visceral realization of something I only knew in the mind. The ephemerality of everything. How my wanting or needing something, and the fulfillment of that wanting or needing, will never be enough. No matter how much I try to make one particular thing last...it doesn't and it can't. Life must keep moving. The good, the bad, the exciting, the boring...all of it comes and goes. You can read about the idea of impermanence in Buddhism, a Dr. Seuss book, or a Pinterest board. You can understand the concept and play with it in experience. But directly grokking the idea of impermanence is heartbreaking. At least to me, it is. After half a lifetime of staring in front of screens, I've yearned for deep connection with someone. That happened recently, which has been incredible. But no matter how hard I try to hold onto it, it doesn't last. My struggling to hold onto it, I notice, creates an insanity within me that wants to repeat the same old needy patterns and habits to hold onto it again and grasp harder, expecting that that is the solution to avoiding the black hole I feel in the pit of my solar plexus. It's my codependent patterns that have brought me to this deep, body-level realization of impermanence and the futility of needs gratification. I just need one more kiss, one more flick of the eyes, one more embrace, one more text...yet another addiction. From video games, to overachieving, to codependency. Another way to numb the grief of not having my needs met early on, the grief of losing parts of myself, the grief of a little child stuck in psychological stasis for timeless years. The grief that childhood is over, and I must grow up. I also learned recently that I can't accept loss exclusively in the mind. I must go through the grieving process in order to accept it in my body. The most loving thing I could do for her, for myself, and for the world right now is to grieve this. To let the reality of impermanence and the pain of loss exorcise the neediness out of me, bit by bit.