lmfao

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Monday 04/01/2020, +1 03:43
Just finished meditating. I cannot tell what is me or who is me. Who is or what is it that moves my hands to type, who is speaking, who is thinking. Normally when I reach a state like this where my notion of sanity and time is threatened, I'd panic. I wonder how I'll handle it now. 

There's a lots of activity and a bigger processes at play here I'm not fully conscious of which can create false interpretations and fears. ▽ (Might write about the some time, whether on here or in my paper journals) 

God I'm such an idiot, I should just be regularly meditating by now, since 50% of the time something interesting happens. But my fears are/were there of not being able to contextualise and handle the experiences I get from meditation. 


Just need to stay grounded and calm, I'm not levitating or facing an imminent abduction from aliens to stick a probe up my ass. 

Edited 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.

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Tuesday 19/09/2020 , 20:30
I don't know why I exist or why things are the way they are. I've asked myself now to wonder why I'm addicted and how addiction is, but I also open my mind to my judgements being wrong. And so it is I say, 

Maybe "addiction" and "wasting my life" isn't so wrong. Maybe suicide isn't such an irrational idea. Maybe I won't "wake up". 

Maybe there's no need and no point to me studying for these exams. Maybe it's fine if I'm never happy. Maybe it's fine if I never regain my emotion or regain my past. Maybe it's fine if my Dp & Dr lasts forever. Maybe it's completely fine for me to be depressed and sapped of energy. 

So where does that leave this sad kid? Who is he and can he be, or have, anything?

Maybe it's fine if he lives the most unremarkable and dull life there is 


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.

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So I read the first chapter of "Letting Go" by David Hawkins, again, since I only read that much of the book a few months ago. 

I take it more as an invitation to be less unconscious. I encircled various sentences with pencil, ranging from key points to things I found interesting but/and "don't agree with". A lot of things I disagreed with. 

One of his key points was that external events perhaps don't cause negative emotion, that they are outlets for displacement, egoic justification for expressing what negative emotion we already had stored up. 

There were more interesting key points that I can't be bothered to type about right now. 

--

Whether by pure coincidence or "synchronicity", my mum walks into my room and asked me whether [alright, as I was typing this sentence I noticed my mum was free. So I stopped typing this, walked up and I talked to her to resolve the situation].....Uh okay so how should I go about writing this. 

 

So as I'm reading, my mum walks into the room and asks me to change the clean bedsheets in my room because she doesn't like the dull colours ( and they are mismatching colours) and she doesn't want the cleaners who are coming around to see it. 

I talk about it pretty casually/nonchalantly about how it doesn't matter, because it doesn't. Abruptly I feel conditioned fear arise as I sense she's about to slap me. She slaps me "playfully" , I slap her back and I'm pissed off, but I didn't properly communicate it. She's whatever. Slightly joyful and happy because she think she "pranked me" and I didn't expect it. But also because of some unhealthy psychology of hers, where she thinks is fun/joyful to invoke fear and control in others. She just walks out the room and conversation end. 

Anyway, it later "ended" with her being sorry because she thought it was innocent. But of course she didn't take it seriously and lacks the capacity to appreciate boundaries. But I wont ramble about that too much. 

--

I continue reading David Hawkins, finishing the chapter.

Whilst I'm reading, and then afterwards for a while, I'm sitting by myself and paying attention to my feelings. I pay attention to the negative feelings which are always there, but I push into the peripheral vision of my consciousness. 

So there's lots of random fluctuations, flux, etc. But at some point the negative emotions grow and grow, I'm caught up in thought stories which whirl and whirl around like tornados, and the negative emotion is very strong. And I feel it as I type now still-

__________
Aaaaaaaaand TLDR I feel drained from paying attention to my negative emotions. But I'm not that drained, its likely some psychological reaction and defence mechanism by my mind to not dig deeper. 

Recently I question and wonder whether an "unconscious" really exists. Since if something is unconscious, it's out of your experience in a sense.

But. There are these emotions and things in the periphery of your current consciousness which are there but we ignore. I feel a burning desire to break the wall between me and what's alien. Someone else might phrase it as trying to "breakthrough into the unconscious". 

Edited 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.

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"I act on what I feel and never deal with emotion", hearing this simple line hit an interesting chord in me when I was listening to this

What's the difference between feeling and emotion? Feeling=sensation perhaps. Talking about things in terms of "sensations" sounds rather impersonal and cold.

"Sensations", in a vacuum that sounds like an impersonal word but it needn't be. It has those cold associations due to it being a scientific/mathematical/logical description, but those associations of mine are a complete invention and story. Why should or would math/physics be inherently cold and impersonal? 

 

Ofc in the context of the song its a bit different. Phish is saying he just acts on what he feels like doing without thinking about it, but in a stage red greedy manner. Regardless of the song context, it's an interesting thing to investigate. 


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.

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In my meditation, it feels like I summoned all my past versions of me. Tension and energy was building and building till it reached some sort of explosion and tipping point. Having summoned all past versions of me, and in the same manner I tried to probe and scan for future me's. It feels difficult and I get a weird feeling from doing so. 

After the meditation, my typical construct and paradigm of "depersonalisation" or derealisation feels transformed/gone/transmuted. But I'm left with this weird other kind of emptiness thats making me very anxious. 

Edited 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.

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It wasn’t even meditation yesterday, I unplugged myself from my parasitic stimuli addictions and sat in the dark, with no aim. I felt a phenomena I used to describe as “tornado thoughts” where I’m overwhelmed by surges of energy, but my understanding of it was incorrect.

What I was wrong about what the root and defining feature. It wasn’t thinking, it was an overwhelm of whirling and pulsing energy. And a whirling of emotions, clinging , etc. 

 

But in that madness, there was single-mindedness. As the single-mindedness intensified, the swirling, pulsating energy intensified (my visual field was light pulsating and sweeping, oscillating). 

With the single mindedness, I was focused on a particular image and impression. I know trigger pieces of music that I can play in my mind. 

It was like a silent prayer for my life and mind to change, visualising things. In those perfect moments, all the tornado and all the pieces are working together perfectly. Just a spectacular state where I felt extremely elevated, and I felt all sorts of structures vibrating and lighting up. 

 

But after my sitting was over, my tornado mind continued. My mind gets completely lost and absorbed in images and emotions that I can hardly tell whats real and whats mental, and the lines almost blur. The lines blur because my mind is just that vivid and loud. I'm not psychotic or delusional, but I get shocked by just how overwhelmingly loud and strong my mental noise is. 

The tornado is having the mind take over experience so much that I enter hypnotic states for seconds at a time without noticing, distressing and jittery lapses in my perception, awareness and concentration. My entire awareness and perception is consumed by energy, and its like I black out in my experience for seconds at time. 

On the outside to other people I look normal, but internally I'm not. Just goes to show how perspective is everything. 

 

But I mute my mind most of the time.

 

During the times my mind is out of control, I’m at my most lateral and creative. Impressionism and non-linear thinking take over. Words and sentences can’t keep up with my thought process at that level, it’s a completely useless endeavour. By the time a sentence is said, it is already irrelevant, it was too slow. Trying to put words to my insights and my mental activity during this state is just a physical,mathematical, structural mismatch. The grids don’t mesh, the joints don’t fit, square peg in a round hole. 

And I sincerely worry about this in the future if I unlock this part of my mind. If words can’t aid me, what will protect me from the tornado? How can I share the contents of my mind to another?

Is is only because my mind is mellow right now that I can even sit to type this. Otherwise I couldn't

--

My mind and emotion feels out of control, hence I lock it away. I was feeling rough around the edges earlier today, and I mellowed myself out by masturbating. Or I mellow myself out by eating tranquiliizing food. Or I mellow myself out through a technology and youtube overload. 

I have to face the tornado of my mind and perception. But I must be honest about my own powerlessness. Whirling and swirling, I feel myself completely lost in it.

Entering the tornado is like playing with fire. Every time invariably I hurt or burn myself. But what else is there to do? 

The way to enter the tornado is to do nothing and unplug myself from all activity. 

--

Before I forget that 

Edited 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.

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I don't know if there exists a goal outside of aiming for happiness and bliss. I wonder if aiming for happiness makes me miserable. My current truth is one of suffering over addictions and other things. And obviously life is pointless, so things can only be done for their own sake. But overall what I'm seeing is that one has to be okay with pain and suffering 

There's no such thing as an objective analysis about whether my life is worth living. What stops me from apathetically ending it all is the small part of me that wants to watch life and whatever small glimmers of truth of unfold. 

In regards to what I wrote in the first paragraph, I saw my mind making a lot of jumps and taking positions. Very rarely do I have the awareness to see what assumptions or baseline emotions are present in my experience. So maybe try more of that, perhaps intensity will build. 


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.

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In my chain of depressive feeling, the limit on one end of the scale as your depression gets worse and worse are degrees of an energy that gets most strongly crystallised in a phenomena called "psychomotor retardation". 

Psychomotor retardation- "a slowing down of thought and reduction in physical movement". The reduction in physical movement is inexplicably large inertia to move your body, paralysis of body and mind. A hellish state I've been in many times in the past.
If psychomotor retardation intensifies to abnormal degrees in a person, they will become paralysed and incapacitated. It is the slope and scale of hell to depression. 

And I can feel waves of this energy washing over me, and I mostly feel powerless/apathy arising with these waves but slight tinges of fear/panic. Apathy is the (matching piece to) psychomotor-retarding energies, and it dominates over anxiety/fear as such.

If I push and probe, I find repressed fear. But I don't know how to bring it out. I've already unconsciously locked it away. Alright, lets push....the fear and anxiety 


Digging out this suppressed emotion, it's like trying to expel a massive poop/turd/shit from your body when you're constipated. You try to push it, you move it a few centimetres but as soon you run out of energy to push after a few moments, and the turd recoils and retracts back inside . I might black out or white out in my awareness if this suppressed emotion is as strong as I think it is. I am extremely scared to think what might happen if I dont suppress. 

I have to put down the pen and paper, and the laptop. And push/feel/open with all my might. 

Edited 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.

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I had a breakthrough moment, but it wasn't enough. Depressive energies exploded and burst into something else. I should have done more with it but I didn't. 

--

I've now realised that I should probably reflect on paper every time I do something stupid, as its probably the only way I can learn otherwise. I ate a lot of food late at night, and now my stomach hurts and I feel like shit. Classic example of easy choices hard life. 

Before I did it, I made a mental note consciously of what/why I was doing. I'm pretty sure my mind was just really anxious and uneasy, and by habit went to eating. 

--

I'm not sure if my brain is imagining things, but it's fun when I'm listening to new music and I realise "oh shit this is similar to this other thing in my memory", and I just have to find the name of the song I know which I was reminded of. 

What pisses me off though is when I can hear an old song in my head by memory and can't remember the name. Because you can't always find songs by searching for lyrics, sometimes you just remember the instruments. Or the lyrics are foreign. 

I'm no musician with exact terminology to scientifically describe what's similar. Maybe it's just the smallest similar thing that random neuron in brain recognises in this one off occasion. But it is also a comparison of impression, rather than literal content as well. 

 

Everyone will make different associations or notice different things, and pieces of music always overlap. Just by pure chance as well when listen to enough. Often times overlap is only 1 or 2 seconds. 

--

Back to my current sensations, feeling waves of nausea which I suffer from due to overeating. Damn its painful, because I'm lying down as well and acid reflux and indigestion

Edited 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.

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Sinking and sinking, what lies beyond there? Beyond the wall of darkness what is there? Beyond all imagination, being and non being. But if there's nothing besides what is, what is our seeking? Contorting, twisting and floundering in the dark?

AAA Serendipitous fools travel up the ocean floor only to find fossils. There is no Rendering to be frozen for the matrix conveyer belt was only imagined to exist begin with. Circumnavigation is but a dream as well . Where does that leave him?

Those figures of grey light are indistinguishable from shadows and ghouls. That cavalry soldier of light I saw down the driveway, what did he want? Who and what was he riding to? 


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.

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I hit the essence of it. The emptiness and nothingness which carved my womb, and historically runs in my life story. It should have been obvious to me that this was it.

Oh Allah, you were but another whacky element in my mental wonderland. I remember staring at my ceiling, thinking how terrifying an existence of forever in heaven would be. 

And then when I was still in Pakistan and realised I was an atheist, true emptiness and nothingness flooded over. Why am I here? Why is there something rather than nothing? WHY IS THERE SOMETHING RATHER THAN NOTHING!? _

Emptiness and nothingness, emptiness and nothingness. An indescribable mental state with no words. Dancing phantoms and ephemeral shapeshifting entities. The unconscious is boundless in contents.

Myriads of flashing colours, figures of dark and light, sinister and angelic, all holding hands in a circle, laughing, crying, dancing, twisting, arising, passing ; all by nothingness and of nothingness. Nothing but nothingness ; a terrible terrible solitude, as ghosts and phantoms of all dimensions and colours torture me in jest 

Quote

You are not you--you have no body, no blood, no bones, you are but a thought. I myself have no existence; I am but a dream--your dream, a creature of your imagination. In a moment you will have realized this, then you will banish me from your visions and I shall dissolve into the nothingness out of which you made me. I am perishing already, I am failing, I am passing away.

In a little while you will be alone in shoreless space, to wander its limitless solitudes without friend or comrade forever—for you will remain a thought, the only existent thought, and by your nature inextinguishable, indestructible. But I, your poor servant, have revealed you to yourself and set you free. Dream other dreams, and better!

Strange! that you should not have suspected years ago—centuries, ages, eons, ago!—for you have existed, companionless, through all the eternities.

Strange, indeed, that you should not have suspected that your universe and its contents were only dreams, visions, fiction! Strange, because they are so frankly and hysterically insane—like all dreams: a God who could make good children as easily as bad, yet preferred to make bad ones; who could have made every one of them happy, yet never made a single happy one; who made them prize their bitter life, yet stingily cut it short; who gave his angels eternal happiness unearned, yet required his other children to earn it; who gave his angels painless lives, yet cursed his other children with biting miseries and maladies of mind and body; who mouths justice and invented hell—mouths mercy and invented hell—mouths Golden Rules, and forgiveness multiplied by seventy times seven, and invented hell; who mouths morals to other people and has none himself; who frowns upon crimes, yet commits them all; who created man without invitation, then tries to shuffle the responsibility for man's acts upon man, instead of honorably placing it where it belongs, upon himself; and finally, with altogether divine obtuseness, invites this poor, abused slave to worship him!

You perceive, now, that these things are all impossible except in a dream. You perceive that they are pure and puerile insanities, the silly creations of an imagination that is not conscious of its freaks—in a word, that they are a dream, and you the maker of it. The dream-marks are all present; you should have recognized them earlier.

"It is true, that which I have revealed to you; there is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream—a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought—a vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities!

^ Mark Twain, The Mysterious Stranger
---
I now realise even more strongly how much I value this video game. The crystallisation of what I feel, Zelda Majoras Mask. The analogy and symbolism everywhere. And this deeply, deeply chilling and beautiful nostalgic song. Through listening to this song, the floodgates to my unconscious are opened

When I hear this song, free form words, stories and images just naturally form.

"Active imagination" is the technique they call it, I should do it more. It feels right for me

Edited 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.

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Wed 18/02/2021, +1 04:14
Will be doing a contemplation on both paper and digital for this. So I will be trying to dissect and figure out what it will take or require for (me to) change. I'm in a serious and calm mood for this right now. 

First formulation. Which path: harshness or non-forcing?

Rather than going with that question I should first look at what my dissatisfaction and desire for change is. So what is it that I dislike? Suffering, misery and sloth. Now unpacking that. 

Trying to look but I don't know what my suffering is. Definitely very large frustration now that I notice it. "Frustration that I can't be myself. Why or how can I not be myself? Fear of backlash and retaliation." Perhaps this is accurate 

So large frustration which has reached the point of subconscious screams of agony. I think these screams and this frustration should have motivated me to move and change, but why hasn't and isn't it? Conditioned loops of fear. Fearing punishment, harm.

Oh dear, now my mind is going to irrational places and extremes. Considering the fear of death or the fear of terrible fate and circumstances befalling me. Yes. 

I now notice a veil of tightness, guardedness and secrecy that I constantly uphold. This constriction and tension must be what dishonesty is? 

Alright, I will focus my consciousness and etc on this, I'm glad I reached this 

----
Okay nvm, lets see if I can still continue this. Although I'm not sure if I can. The space I ended up in by the end of my contemplation above is different from where I started. When you have different spaces, contexts and perspectives, their difference expresses themselves deeply at the level of language and the moment a word is conjured. Making my attempted verbal articulation of differences limp 

Okay sooooo....what to do, where to go. Feeling exhausted and drained, perhaps from the confrontation with my fear and dishonesty. But I also can see that I have a lot of things buried. I can sense their presence, but I don't know how to examine or bring them forth. And I'm almost certain that 99.9% of what I do is driven by these things deep within. 
--

I can feel frustration again...Fear...All these irrational leaps and random thoughts....I dont know how meaningful or what I can dissect here, its just blah. But strange I'm feeling the physiological fear and....bleh 

I'm starting to feel suddenly drowsy thats a factor. Fear after Fear after fear...embracing it by the heart 
---
Ugh, this drowsy insomnia and compulsion to use internet rn is a fucking pain. Should I go eat some fucking food and sedate myself? Maybe. I can eat something which will put me to sleep. mmmmmm yum, 
 

Edited 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.

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Things feel strange, and I don't know what will become of me. Probably living my life as normal but I don't know. Only one to find out. 

It really is as Ramana Maharshi supposedly said, "Your head is already in the tiger's mouth. There is no escape". There are points of no return, and you have to let fate do what it does

I may distract myself with this or that random detour, but my actual attention and being only ever gets focused on one thing, and that's Truth. 

Usually my mind is very loud. But rare times like these, it's accidentally silent as I do contemplation. 

I can see what's being asked of me. To step out of the shell, let it be, and I am only fine with what occurs. I can just feel my body pulsating and vibrating 

The surrender and complete reshaping of identity. That it will include things you never thought you had to surrender before, including family. 

 

I'm still in Maya ofc. Give it a day or two, this state may pass away. But if that's how things go, that's how it goes. All i can do is cherish. The deeper one falls into higher consciousness, the deeper a feeling of deja vu and returning you get. 

None of these side things from truth can suffice or satisfy "me". Perhaps I will have to make some practical accommodations health and lifestyle related for what comes of me. Or perhaps I will just continue being the buffoon I always have. It's the same either way. 

Before I forget this state, I will write this to you Mujtaba. No matter what happens, it's all good. It probably doesn't seem like it, but it is so. 

There's no difference between heaven and hell, you only ever thought there was one. 


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.

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Thursday 23/02/2021, 00:32

One interesting thing today and yesterday has been seeing the effect of choices. Because of one small choice I made today, that circumstantially snowballed into me having good/interesting conversation with my father. 

Yesterday, I was internally arguing with myself about what to do. I was torn between two different options. Debating whether to send this email or not send this email, debating whether to delay or not delay my university project meeting. I ended up picking delay, and I don't regret it, but it inadvertently ended up inconveniencing my digitally assigned project partner in a way I didn't forsee. 

I don't regret the decision. Maybe he's pissed off, I can't tell. Even if he was, it would be fine. He hasn't communicated to me for over a week, so its a blank. How this will ripple out for the next 12 weeks I have to work on this project is unknown. 

A few days ago, I "made the choice" to send a message to someone I only knew online that I had caught up reading the Attack on Titan manga, and they replied today and that led to a fun conversation. 

 

Every choice I make to eat a vegetable, but to also eat chips as well like I just did now as I write. Very interesting. Maybe not a good choice, I'm feeling lethargic and I need to do some work before my next meeting.

I made the choice to vent out my feelings on this forum in a thread I made, and that has its own consequences. 

 

Seeing the unfolding of events, choices, paths, butterfly effects, gives one a certain feeling. Makes me remember why I love Durarara as a one of a kind show. 

Edited 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.

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A random reflection on politics.

I don't have any particularly strong thoughts about politics, and I find discussing it in of in itself boring. And I don't have strong thoughts because I more or less kinda see two sides "That guy might be racist but he makes some good points"

Pretty much a lefty in all matters pragmatically.

I will never fully attach myself to or side with the left. I may pragmatically support them, but never will I demean myself to one form of collective ignorance over another. The left is unable to be totally honest and truthful, just as society is unable to.

Therefore I make the intention to disengage from politics and the such. A waste of energy and a distraction, and it's a losing game when held in a certain way. 

Edited 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.

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Friday 26/02/2021 23:06
I experienced an anxiety today which led to me freezing up. And I become more aware and conscious of-*
----------------
OMFG AND ANOTHER THING I NOTICED TODAY IS THAT MY MIND KEEPS VISITING THE GARAGE. MY MIND KEEPS VISITING THE GARAGE WITH SO MANY THOUGHTS I HAD, IT GOTS ME GENUINELY HYSTERICAL THAT I NEVER NOTICED EARLIER WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK. SO MANY FUCKING TIMES MY MIND VISITS THE GARAGE, HOW DID I NEVER NOTICED. SO MANY FUCKING TIMES. .

HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES DID MY MIND VISIT THAT PLACE AND I NEVER FUCKING CONSCIOUSLY ACKNOWLEDGED. I MUST HAVE SUBSCONSCIOUSLY ACKNOWLEDGED IT OVER A MILLION TIMES, JUST BEING ON THE BRINK OF CONSCIOUS AWARENESS. AAAAAAAHIUGH9JHBVNHJIUHJBVIUHJBVIUHJBIUJB HIUO0HOBKJ HIOUIBKJOUBK JHKUOHBKJIU80H. 

It gets me extremely agitated, but its a free flowing so it's fine. I'm just overcome by so much fucking joy and bewilderment that I never fucking noticed this earlier. I feel bouncy like a restless dog, going on his first walk after years of confinement

Lmao this man is literally my spirit animal rn, without punching random people in the face though. Hilarious meme though
PunchingBag.mp4 

To give context to anyone confused with what I've written above. As I've written before, my mind often imagines itself to be in physical locations I've visited in real life ( with the exception on 1 location being a video game map). This is a part of my automatic thinking, in the background of my normal thinking, my brain is dreaming myself to be in a particular location and I dont even notice it. Particular places and particular themes make me revisit the same location. I imprint certain impressions, feelings, thoughts, energies, to a particular location, and then my mind visits that same place later, over and over. The imprinting is often random. 

The negative flip side of it is this. Repetitive thoughts, and visiting the same location and being trapped in there drives me crazy somehow. Obsession with certain subtle impressions and feeling. I have visited locations in my mind 100's of times over, and never even noticed where I am or that I'm doing so!!!!!! This is how unconsciousness and being lost in imagination works. 

And now I'm fucking over the moon that finally consciously acknowledged that my mind keeps revisiting the garage in my family house, which got demolished 5-6 years ago. I don't know why that place, but it does. And even as I type this, it just hits me hard as I realise just how many times my mind visited this place....my god. 

Why this place? I don't think there's a particular reason. I remember someone finding white rats in that garage. The other first things that comes to my mind immediately is a nightmare I had many many years ago, in which I was outside my house and saw the garage door briefly.


Jesus Christ I just feel so free, I can 't explain it. If you were me , had your mind covered in sticky webs, trapped in prisons of sludge...the joy of being able to move on from the old and find the new. Yes, only in the new do I find liberation
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*-conscious of how my anxiety/fear leads to me freezing up. So many times before that I've frozen up when I'm in stress. That freezing up is a blockage, and it is also my DPDR issues. DPDR is the conceptual dramatisation, self imposed fog of pretending that you don't know what's happening before. DPDR arises from the mind choosing denial and doublethink in the face of fear and anxiety.

That's literally what it is, there is no DPDR, even though I still have it. It was always a choice, only imagined and thought of to exist through the mind learning doublethink.

Denial=doublethink. When in denial, you deceive yourself. "Self deception" as Leo calls it. 

I was all frozen up earlier, reluctant to do something. I kept freezing every time I approached the task, but I managed to get myself to do it anyway. The solution to fear and paralysis is courage.

_____________________
Something I realised when in the shower. Happiness and misery is more or less a choice. Maybe I'm not quite big enough to pick happiness yet, but I can be big enough to not pick misery. 

I was taking a shower, telling myself "Die in a hole" over and over and over again. A full circle irony soon hit me, as I realised those were the words I said to someone in spite over 2 years ago to someone who cyberbullied me. And I almost forgot that I did that, not a fun memory.

But then, whilst I was in my rut, a certain song randomly came to mind and the lyrics in it. And it clicked for me. That my indulgence in this energy was a choice

You can choose to think life is meaningless, you can choose to mope. But you could also choose to not do that. 
Also, this song is meaningful to me because it's the opening song to an awesome anime. And it fits perfectly with all of that. 
 

Quote

Ah, the morning sun rises, yeah!
It comes out of the darkness!
If you feel it now, you’ll be able to see it.
That tomorrow won’t be meaningless.

Ah, the morning sun rises, yeah!
Over the water horizon!
If you believe now, you can change.
That light isn’t meaningless.

Ah, there’s something that only we can see.
I’m sure it’s something that no one in the world can take from us.
We could think that it has no meaning,
But even so, I’m sure our goal must lie over there.
That goal isn’t meaningless!

 

Edited 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.

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Sat 27/02/2021 23:31
It is simply a fact that you can't experience another person's POV...That applies to humans as well as all animals, organisms and potential AI in the future. 
Does that make selfishness the default, by definition? Is selfishness relative? What is the meaning of helping or aiding another then? I find it baffling. What am I to make of  relationship, "social", friends, loved ones, community, selflessness, sacrifice? 

___
I look at my father for example. He sacrificed himself, and continually sacrifices himself, in a large sense. He landed in an unfamiliar new country with no money or assets of any kind, with an emotionally abusive and manipulative wife from an arranged marriage. Day in and day out he put up with a paranoid, jealous, money obsessed wife, whilst trying to juggle duties to work and family.

Whilst looking after his kids, he also still supported his relatives living in his home country. He would visit Pakistan on occasion, and payed/organised the construction of a house so that his parents would be fine in the long term. And who knows how much money he's sent to help his siblings. 

But for 30 years he put up with a crazy, narrow minded woman. He probably should have divorced, he says it himself, but with his culture and having young kids he forced himself to stay in it. And he's a workaholic, and was basically doing the equivalent of 2 full-time jobs at once. He ended up getting into real estate and properties, buying and renovating multiple properties to rent and later sell.

He is into properties for two reasons, 1) He finds it fun and noticed a way to earn money this way 2) He wants to leave something behind for his multiple kids, including me. He's a very selfless and caring person, even though he's very strongly traditional masculine, solid stage blue with islamic values, and I've felt myself trapped by those beliefs and culture he passes on. But, he is relatively flexible and a good listener who is empathic. He is a psychiatrist after all. 

We just come from two different worlds in culture and personality. He's 45 years older than me, raised in a different culture completely. And so it is I can forgive him for various things in the past, and communication barriers.
---

Okay so why did I write this all out? Well, it's just that I find what he does and what motivates him so alien and strange to me. Whilst I am ofc grateful and love him, I can't help but be baffled, bewildered and nihilistic. What was he working hard for, and why? What is the human game everyone is playing? 
Why so much grinding, hard work, concern for money, unnecessarily large amount of sacrifice to support so many people? Where is in the individual in any of this? 

He has a strong faith in Allah and Islam (he is tolerant to other religions). He is concerned about the afterlife. In Islam there is the belief that the "Day of Judgement" will come. God will resurrect the dead, and everyone will talk to God, as God interrogates you or congratulates you for every bad or good deed you did. 

So my father says "I don't want God to ask me why I didn't do this" (on the day of judgement), and he's deadpan serious in believing this. And ofc I find it slightly concerning that someone literally believes this all. 

I could give throw away "explanations" which don't remove the source of my bewilderment ."Oh, his MBTI type is some sort of xSxJ type, they have a different motivation structure. He's just not an intuitive. He's an old man who was raised in Pakistan.". But these words don't do anything for me.
_____

What was the meaning of anything he did? What's the meaning of anything I do?  I just don't get it. 

I'm just also wondering what on earth it means to care about someone, what sacrifice and selflessness means. I feel too much pressure, too much irritation, too little space to be and to be myself. Fuck people, I live for myself and myself alone. 

I will brood on all this energy I feel, go meditate on it, focus on it, with every fibre of my being. "The humiliation of captivity is the beginning of the counterattack" 

Listening to this puts my mind at ease, just very relaxing and focusing. It's one of the songs/impressions I replay in my mind deliberately if I'm trying to hypnotise myself with a certain image

 

Edited 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.

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Wed 03/03/2021 15:35
I can take back control

I hesitate to say "I am feeling tired, zoned/dazed out, zombie state [dopamine zombie]" for (fear?)/(caution?) of not identifying in a way which is illusion. But that is how I am feeling.
The more romantic, theatrical, poetic, side of me says "It's like my vitality and colour has been drained of me, and I'm left bathing in bleak, barren, desolate and empty consciousness.". 

One of the core fears or problems is the feeling "I've lost a part of me which will never return" . Going together with all of this DPDR business. I feel confused about what "I" am, and my baseline consciousness is one of being dazed and confused, in this barren wasteland.
--
An underlying energy to my consciousness...seek seek seek, get get get. I'm acting out a palpable program, and in seeing myself act like this programmed drug/dopamine/(whatever it is) addict, I feel out of control, and I don't know what "I" am since I feel like I'm watching a movie or robot act instead of me. It is inexorably confusing and scary. 
--
These fragments of memory, my past, identity and perception. I feel so disconnected from it all, I'm scared and lost! But what if my only problem was getting concerned and scared? That's a very real thing to open up to. 

I hate this, I hate this I hate this.....I don't know what I will do Somehow I shall dive head first into expanding and discovering? Maybe? (And I obviously said "head first" for the sentiment of no fragmentation within simple I. Whatever you do you do ) 

Okay so 'first thing' might be not getting anxious or overwhelmed from simply acknowledging and looking at the problem. Getting used to mental fear and feeling unsettled. 

So later today, there's an online Smash Bros tournament that my universities' gaming society is doing. I said to myself and the people there "Yes I'll play I'm looking forward to it" . I don't basically don't play Smash Bros at all anymore, but my muscle memory means I quickly return to my baseline skill and I can body some frauds/noobs. I can probably get 2nd or 3rd even though I don't practice. Now that isn't the point. Sometimes I've felt my dissociation worse from playing video games, and I just feel repulsion from Smash Bros. It's a similar sort of repulsion I feel to mathematics and physics now.

Fuck it, I'll just play and maybe examine my fears as I do it. I can't say much otherwise apart from that " I'll look" because my mind is such in this confused bleak state that any other words are meaningless or add confusion. 


Okay before that I'll go run and eat food, , quickly just say fuck it and do a mediocre job or making notes and pseudo understand of chapter 1 Dirac's Lectures of Quantum Mechanics for my uni project. Then after playing Smash Bros. I need to update my e-diary with bullshit. Then after that draw a mini mind map for Lagrangian, Hamiltonian and Dirac shit or just whatever. Maybe I need to read up on pure math theory about calculus of variations but honestly I could give less of a shit, but in the long term it's probably good if I just say fuck it and do it.


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.

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Wed 03/03/2021 + 1 05:53
Every time I have refused to look fear in the eyes and act what I'm feeling in the moment, an exponential burden is payed. How much longer must I dither before I learn to not become paralysed, and not lower my gaze? I guess this is the learning, getting into all sorts of conflicts, becoming triggered.  Anyway, I did what I should have done, but my perfectionist brain says "Should I go back and do it right?"...But I think this is unnecessary thought.

I am making a separate entry rather than editing the previous one so that when looking back I really reflect and absorb this, if I forget. That there is a price every time I have submitted to fear, since I stay in a limbo and torture myself between doing the needed thing versus hiding. Gone are the times I can just hide, I will keep beating and torturing myself until I do the needed thing.

Maybe I just have to surrender, have faith, in my gut and the actions it wants to do? Doubting them, suppressing them and contorting is the real problem. 

I hate this feeling that my negative karma never ends. 

My heart is thumping from anxiety and fear, I know what I have to do.....Just let go and stop resisting 

Edited 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.

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Thu 04/03/2021, 17:40
I feel good and happy about dealing with my situation and talking to R the way I did. I feel the emotions and feelings being more subtle and diffuse now. The anxiety is right now less intense, diffuse and has a slight tinge of sweetness to it.

In the aftermath of a stressful situation, a state of calmness is present, with a tinge of tiredness as you recover. Not a miserable tiredness, a content one. Recovery of your muscles after going to the gym. Unlearning fear, that is the thing to do. I'm more fearful and anxious than the average person, and will aim to reach heights that makes any person scared and afraid. Those who are oddities will be forced to sink to the bottom or elevate higher. 

Still on 1st enemy

Edited 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.

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