My Old Philosophy and my New

My old Philosophy:

Wait for the answer within. From God. or From without. From people who believe in God. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Enjoy the experiences you don’t control, the lucky moments. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Enjoy the next experience you don’t control, the lucky moment. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Repeat. Die with regrets.

My new philosophy:

Take care of myself (grow in knowledge, love my body, find people who inspire me). Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Take care of myself. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Take care of myself. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Take care of myself. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Do. Act. Repeat until the honorable death.

There’s no Going Back

There’s No Going Back. I’m doing whatever it takes to discover the physiological deficiencies that contribute to my anxiety. Throughout my life, the only time I’ve noticed any profound change in my mood, stability, decision-making, and strength to persevere is if I strengthen my body directly.

Plan to keep things updated.

Reflecting.

Reflecting on the time of my life wherein I started this blog. The vast progress and growth I’ve made as a person since then.

We as rational beings are taken captive by none but that which we believe has taken us captive. And it is only by time and the right circumstances that the beliefs we want to change, the ones harmful to us, become makeshift.

Until then, keep breathing and intend to see things differently. Feel things differently. I wish I could say there is promise that one can successfully immediately change beliefs about themselves by mere will and intention but experience has shown me it is not true. Sometimes trauma seems so overpowering that all we can do is continue to take care of ourselves, grown in knowledge, and wait for the moment when we realize something new. Something healing.

Experimental Writing

Lately I’ve been dabbling in experimental writing. The following is the first draft of something I wrote yesterday. I do not like much of it, but the rememberance of how it felt to be expressed gives it worth to me.

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When I momentarily sense my breath, perhaps when the leaf has lost its way, and I see her swinging downward in the rhythm of my lungs, away from the steadily freezing branches, and approaching the pavement– there is a bitter-sweet breeze in my thoughts, or lack thereof. She has died, but her way to death is worth witnessing ten times over again.

The conduct of “purpose” man has established becomes illusory to me. Would it make sense for man to build a house out of fallen leaves for the sake of fulfilling their duty for us? No. Such is ludicrously redundant. A solitude and fortress, a house rooted in beauty, has already formed in the wind, when it catches the leaf by her hands, and dances with her to the ground. Need we more? We have less if we have sensed none but our fleeting impulses.

We must sense our present presence. The things we do not control. The rhythms under our dissonant orchestrations, our attempts to grasp the same current that has pulled many a drunk man under by their foolishenss some night after the orgy.

They have done one thing right, however, stepping outside and drinking of the moonlight, stripping bare in bold honesty, and frolicking in nature. But they have taken the bottle with them…created a mind of their own before setting a toe in the river. So they have drowned.