The greatest sin

The greatest sin you can commit is to try and perfect yourself.

To hold yourself up to impossible expectations.

To push your body far beyond its capabilities.

To build expectations to be ever happy, ever productive, ever active.

FUCK THAT.

Perfection is self-harm. The light, when too strong, blinds eyes and makes you feel sick.

Crawl in shadows and feel earth under your fingertips.

Show where you are weak, because people will find out anyhow.

Be a spectrum and a totality, not a linear light with its disembodied soul.

 

But the greatest sin of all is to try and perfect yourself.

 

FUCK THE CAPITALIST WORLD
FUCK THE CAPITALIST WORLD
FUCK THE CAPITALIST WORLD

 

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Into the mind of an abuser

Much anxiety in the world of human beings is caused by abusive people. Rather than reacting to their ways, and affirming their power, I want to try and understand their motives. Whilst we have an abuser in our heads, and alter our ways around them, they have some power. Through understanding, we can develop the means to exorcize their influence, and restore our sovereignty over ourselves.

Abuse is automatic

Abuse is on auto. An abuser does not consciously pull up the desire to undermine or criticise someone. Their disrespect for others and entitlement to power runs much deeper than that. You can see this in the automatic reactions an abuser will have when challenged. They probably don’t know why they are doing it either. There is no solace in that.

Abusive attitudes can be further entrenched by society’s values. An abusive father, for instance, has the extra protection of familial ideology (the third greatest lie ever told), the sacred bond of a father and his children (the second greatest lie ever told) and the dominance of men over all others (the first greatest lie ever told).

The abusers goal is always to subdue another, to take control of their will. Given the chance,  they would completely hollow out those they abuse, utterly dominate their will in the manner of a dictator. This won’t be with open violence and brutality, endless put downs and hatred. Such extreme tactics do not work, they either inspire rebellion or push those they abuse away. An abuser will use a mixture of criticism, put down, insult and disrespect with moments of love and tenderness, kindness and a respect for the others. They are still human after all (even if the most reprehensible and pitiful of our species).

Abusers cannot truly love anyone. Firstly, their ego places them above others, so no reciprocal relationship or mutual bond can exist. Secondly, their love is always conditional. Worse, it can be an excuse to justify abuse. Love for an abuser can be a bargaining chip, traded in for the opportunity to cause harm. Love can also be an absolver of their guilt: there was a kid at school whose dad used to beat him up and then buy him a bag of sweets the next day. True love knows no conditions. Nor is true love a means to an end.

In his walnut-sized brain, the abuser knows that he knows best. Often they will transgress their own moral compasses, but it is for some imagined greater good. ‘Sometimes people just don’t know what is good for themselves.’ What they need in life, is an abusive, disrespectful person to help mentor them through the winding pathways of life! You could call this a hero-complex, the wish to do ‘good’ for others around them all life. Invariably, the ‘good’ an abusive person can do is never a good at all. Anything that reduces the liberty and sovereignty of a sane, moral human being is an evil.

You will often hear people leap to the defence of an abusive person. He is, after all, a brother, a friend, a comrade, a colleague. This leaping to the defence skews the attention away from the person being abused. They could even be made to feel guilty for bringing such things up, or blamed for being ‘too weak’ to resist the complex web of abuse and helplessness that has ensnared them. Such is the broad arsenal of an abuser – they know how to get the feedback they need to maintain their position. They are, outwardly, the nicest people you will ever meet. Such recognition feeds the angel / devil dialogue in the abuser’s mind, that he is a good person really, this is just a bump in the road.

Rather than, as is actually the case, an absolute prick who needs to change or fuck off.

 

Into the mind of an abuser

To escape the mind of an abuser

Through the hole

In the back of his thick skull

 

 

 

Pain and self-growth

At first I was afraid of the pain. It makes sense. Caution is wise when something new is upon you. And patience too. To be unsure, to wait it out, to dip a toe in the black pool and have a safe space to recoil. All of these are wise decisions.

Yet the day will come when the passage of time has done all of the healing it can. Time alone does not heal all wounds, and anyone who tells you it does is a fool. Once you have something of a stable foundation again, the days and days waiting for inner-pain to go away become wasted opportunities to get back onto your feet. You cannot know when you are ready to go back out (though your body will give you indicators, or guesses). So you will just have to try it for yourself, to trust your defences and trust that you can take what comes and have the self-love and inner-strength to make it. Do not go it if you are not ready, but do not stagnate it you are.

Wait and you will wait forever.

The world is full of suffering. There is no denying it, and anyone sensitive to it will feel it. Pain is unavoidable and inevitable. Thus, one way or another, the time will come when you will fall into a spiral of pain which dominates your consciousness. It is not a ‘mental’ thing – it will permeate all aspects of your body and mind. It will come when it comes, and you will not be able to just will it away.

I would rather face those days of reckoning as one who is trained to face my fears, then one who hides behind shields of repression, or naive hope in the passing of days. And so I did.

When the pain came and took over my body I could not turn it away, and why should it leave on my account? Does it not have an equal right to express itself through the human corpus? Is it not also a part of me? When the pain came and took over my body I stopped resisting it and accepted its presence. I went deeper into it, explored it, and this hurried its course toward resolution.

The black pool is there, waiting for you. Ignore it and you will see it in dark dreams. Dive into it and you will come to know it wholly.

It will return again, the pain is recurring. There is no end point of healing and no end point of anything. But when the inevitable returns again, you can become more and more adept at dealing with it. I have no ultimate choice in what I feel and when I feel – I do not think anyone has that much freedom. But when the storm comes I will ride through to its eye, through to the other side.

Face things, do not let them linger. Confront and challenge things; at your own pace, but swiftly enough to not lose your social life, hope and ambition to them. Human beings evolved on the plains to hunt in packs. They did not evolve in arm chairs and in front of laptop screens to wait and rot.

You were born to hunt, to be an element in nature, so go and hunt. Only, this hunt is not for some animal, it is a quest into yourself for truth, for what truly happened, and the path to changing yourself. I have changed so much since the pain came and I learnt to hunt so much for the better.

When something inside screams, listen. The longer you leave it, the worse your demons will grow…

The inevitable beautiful, the ocean’s will

All of the beautiful things I will make

Cannot be destroyed

Only delayed.

You cannot stop one who knows

That to move forward is their choice

For the will of mortals is like that

Of the ocean

Forever beating against the shores of eternity

Driven on, on, wailing at mother moon.

I am a copse of brambles

Cut at me, I return

Thorned, clutching, birds nest in my bosom

I am ivy upon the oak

I am the course of the river

Slowly I wend through the world

Always I triumph

For there is no going back

To go back now is to die, to die

And I want to live

And I can always choose to live

Until Nature takes me back…

Time and Trauma

Does trauma heal with time, or does time just make you feel cheated for longer?

The natural healing systems of the body can clearly get it wrong with anxiety, which is an over-active sense of alarm leading to the degrading of normal function. Waiting for these negative learned behaviours to change themselves is not going to work.

The mind can race ahead of the body, or think itself separate – a folly. But it can also correct its course, for the mind too is of nature, and we are possessed of some wisdom. Altering the mind’s course to reduce anxiety will help trauma heal.

But how long will  this take? I cannot know. And what will healing look like? I do not know. All I can know is whether or not I am on the path to healing and whether I wish to get better, or remain forever broken.

 

 

Procrastination

Start writing it

Ask her out

Cancel your card

Leave the house

Take the risk

Send it in

Procrastination – anxiety in action. The brain’s version of two feet fumbling at the edge of a cliff, refusing to just bungeeeeeeee…

The difference between good and great is that good procrastinates and gets there eventually, whereas great is already one step ahead, having missed the procrastination stage.

The worst that can happen is that you could trap yourself in a spiral of negative thinking and unproductive worry!

This means that you are in control of how you feel today. It means that the insurmountable mountain is actually not that steep.

It means that all of the barriers on your path only seem so high because you are hunkering down.

It means that all of the monsters on your quest are infamous only because other people are so afraid of them.

I think procrastination is a form of enchantment – only, in the negative sense of overestimating threat. I suppose dread and fear is as much a part of the imagination as anything!

But it is not a part of the imagination we want to allow to rule our lives.

To ‘not do’ is not the safe option. To ‘not do’ is how phobias and disorders develop, and once they do, it is not easy to reverse them (believe me, I am in the middle of one).

If only I had done this, if only I had done that – also not useful. Procrastination.  What has been is not necessarily what will be. And who can tell where each path would have led, or what you would be now if you had done what.

What you have before you is what you can mould the most. Your destiny is undeniably a continuous thing which cannot be altered easily, as is your character. But the small steps you can make to begin changing that destiny – they can happen anytime.

And once you start winning and changing, the results are exponential. Find something you can feasibly achieve, and feasibly achieve it.

Procrastination – the product of too much intellect and not enough feeling. Get out of your mind for a moment, and back into the whole of yourself…

There is a world to explore

There are unjust systems to deconstruct

There is your novel to write

There is love to be found

There is music to be played

There are seeds to be planted

There is climate destruction to be undone

There is a Trump to be dethroned

 

(If you like this post, share it on social media and help your friends stop procrastinating!)

Finitude

You are a limited being. The pain inside you can only accumulate so much.

You must be patient. You must be prepared to go into yourself and let the healing process happen.

Pride is the product of harmful attitudes, which lead to emotions amplifying your pain.

Learn to be humble and reach out your hand for help.

Say you need help, be vulnerable among those you trust.

You will be strong again someday, but that day is not today.

If you need medication to have the courage to go out, you cannot work.

If the slightest stress makes your knees buckle, you cannot stand alone.

You must be humble, you must live with acceptance.

You must know no shame, you must live with acceptance.

Until you accept, you will but delay the inevitable.

No love will you find, for none are your saviour.

No peace will you find, for you will be haunted.

No sanctuary exists, for these feelings are carried with you.

So let it wash over you, let it pass through.

Even the darkest pain, do not resist it.

Be with it, let it work its dark work.

Trust that your natural being can eventually heal you.

Trust that you are made of light.

 

Know your limits as a finite entity

Of a finite race, upon a finite world

 

Never again let yourself come to this.

Love yourself, forgive yourself

Swallow pride, seek help – it is there.

Humanity has a large heart.

And so do you.

Be patient, live step by step and day by day

When you are ready to stand again

You will just know it.

 

Don’t worry

Everything by nature wishes to live

It is encoded into you

Trust the very essence of your being.

Always Impossible

Always somewhere else

Always someone else

Always a different horizon

Always a greener pasture

Always a safer haven

Always a better answer

Always a happier day

Always a prettier maiden

Always somewhere else

But never here

Always something unseen

But nothing felt

Always something impossible

Always someone impossible

Always impossible

The essence of anxiety is a lack of security. The self, seeking to separate itself from the  the dance of birth and death and rebirth that is the flux of all-things, isolates itself from nature. In a messy metaphycial divorce, it tears itself away from its earthly mother.

Once out of its natural being, the ego must fortify itself from its “vantage” position. But the more it fortifies, the more it needs to fortify, for there is always a gap in the castle walls. And the more you get, the more you have to worry about.

This burden of conscience builds and builds upon the back of the separated ego. Given our limited nature as fallible and vulnerable beings, eventually something will give, and the whole facade will fall. This is inevitable, but the separated ego does not want to face this reality.

So it looks forward to an imagined future. One it can never reach, but that is not a problem. To stop would be for it to reveal its futility. Something must keep it going.

I am a creature of this ego. Although I am aware of it, it still holds sway over me. Conditioning must be undone, but I imagine this takes time, and society does not make it easy to be a free, enlightened being interconnected with nature.

Still we must try.

Hospitality (A dialogue between Irekus and Gylfanon)

Gylfanon grimaced as the fire started to smoke. Rummaging through a crumbling sack, he found only a few onions and rock-hard bread.

‘My hospitality is poor. Forgive me old friend.’

Irekus smiled, learning his birchwood staff against the uneven wall. ‘Think little of it. This hardy stone keeps out the wind, and bread fills my stomach as well as meat.’

‘I think you humour me. Ah I am ashamed here, to share my room with the wretched. To serve poor fare to esteemed guests, to have not even a room for holding court.’

‘I thought you despised pomp and grandiosity?’

‘Aye I do – in other people!’

‘Ha, perhaps it threatens you. Modest Gylfanon, not so’ said the old wizard, with a knowing smile.

‘No mentor, modest Gylfanon is not. Not at heart. I ought to be, but cannot. My heart still yearns for place, and the power to come. Maybe that is why I feel so deeply troubled here, though there be not troll nor raider in sight.’

‘It is natural. That was the rhythm you used to live by. Your conscious mind is now, but your body is trailing behind.’

‘These mercenaries I surround myself with, they know not the glory I led House Gylfanis. They know nothing of the Battle of Darkfel, nor my rallying cry at the river sern. The respect I did command, the triumphs laid upon me. To them, I am a mere paymaster, without history.’

‘Oh friend.’

‘Nor do they know of my atrocities, the beast inside me.’

‘Time will forgive those.’

‘I cannot forget them.’

‘Gylfanon, this is a passing phase. A mere road upon a greater destiny. This path may lead you away from that you long for, but it cuts through the silent land. You will not be ronin for-ever.’

‘Yet it feels like an eternity. This prison, these desperate faces. I cannot take it much longer! I once kissed the necks of star-lit nymphs in the Sacred Glades. Now I lie beside snoring old men.’

‘By the looks of things, you have done well by these people. Even at your worst, I heard tell of your finding a lost  clan of Gylfans. Grateful townsfolk told me how your took and held SIlmootil and Corsk with a small band of men. You restored the chapter of the Serpent Brother knights, and took many bandit claws off the roads, bringing safety to many.’

‘Then why does it feel like I am weak, powerless and constantly insulted? That every day is the same, with no promise or future. How easily I can be separated from the love of my friends and allies.’

‘Mayhap you forget that you stand not alone. This Winter has been harsh on many. All share a common destiny.’

‘To Hades with such notions!’

‘Pray, my black prince, push not against Fate; for it has brought you to this. Your loyal knights have grown scarce, yet much have you achieved and learned about yourself. You cannot always rely on providence to give you great deeds. Often times, you must seek among the mud and the roots for sustenance.’

‘But why me! I was happy. After a hard life, I found something. We were growing, expanding.’

‘It seems old friend that you long for a still world, where one cannot be found. Does not the sea weather the greatest cliff? Does not the Great Moon circle the world, growing and shrinking? Does not the dragon awaken from its slumber-spell of centuries?  All things change, my friend. They grow, wither and die – but it is never certain in which order.’

‘Then we are a doomed race. For we will live in misery and think it eternal, or be excited into joy, only to lose it. For what? Why bother living for anything if Fate will come and take it all away from us.’

The old wizard stroked his wispy beard, pondered, then continued; ‘Why but for these things mean something in the moment they occur. And who is to say that your deeds will come to naught, or whether history will maintain you for a thousand years. And who is to say that when Gylfanon or Irekus perishes, another will not take up our souls.’

‘Rebirth…’

‘Aye. When you consider that nothing is ever wholly destroyed, it seems logical. Infinite, yet not eternal.’

Gylfanon nodded. ‘So that is why you accept my meagre hospitality now? This is all one big metaphor for you is it not old man!’

Irekus grinned, wickedly; ‘I know that you do all you can to keep me warm and fed. That is enough. When reborn, with your castles restored and your land at your feet and your maiden eager and your foes routed, your hospitality will be greater, and yet no greater, than it is now.’

Gylfanon smiled at this, his heavy, weary face unused to the gesture. It was the last and most splendid act of hospitality that night.

Bodily Logics and the importance of love

Two logics are at work in me. The one is open minded, beyond prejudice, anarchistic, gentle of spirit, enlightened, various, engaged, giving, loving, and artistically dynamic. The other Is stolid, closed, xenophobic, bigoted, ignorant, depressed, materialistic, unencouraging, frustrated, goalless, artless, authoritarian.

Why can I not choose the former over the latter? Every part of me is for it, every part of me wants to belong to it. My body quakes at the negativity of ignorance, or the grunts of frustration from small people with small worlds.  I don’t want these right-wing feelings in me, I don’t want to be anxious or depressed. I don’t want to play some false economy of finding security in wretched familiarity. I don’t want to snap every so often and spit bile at others. I don’t want to be so jaded as to be void of care for those closest to me.

But the choice is not so simple. If it were, these horrid, stolid things could be exposed and cleansed, as if by sacred flame. Yet character is not so simple. The depression becomes part of you, the un-virtues imposed upon you from youth are maintained into later years. Even being aware of them, they do not shrivel and die. Even speaking words of power to undo this malignant mana, the dark spell persists. Awareness alone does not seem to be enough. The actual physical body is stained by fear and toxic chemical traces. My chemistry, my very being is tainted with vile evil.

Take for example a child growing up in an abusive environment, or a nation under the totalitarian rule of a police state. How such things will warp any human being. Do you think the child or the citizens want to be as they are? Do you think un-free people want to harm others and commit atrocities? Do you think they would not imagine a better world if they could? Whatever they imagine, the reality of their bodies would ground and limit them. The chemical hatred and inferiority inside them would still simmer and sometimes conquer the will.

At this point in time I do not believe it is possible for the most severely oppressed to make free moral choices. The conscious mind would have to be supreme to rein in a lifetime of hatred, frustration and oppression. It would have to be transcendent, and apart from the whole human being – which is impossible. In this sense, I believe the most un-free to be determined. They did not choose to be made anxious by years of being spied upon, nor to fear the next strike of a tyrannical parent. But they had to endure this, and gradually, over miserable years, mental and physical trauma will have imprinted itself upon them.  Without knowing why, they would know a hatred inside for life and positivity, and a jealousy and envy born of feelings of insecurity and self-loathing.

The thing-just-inside feels intuitively right, however destructive it is to our true interests as natural beings. In this way, the oppressed can be crushed without having the will to fight back. The hurt can be convinced that they are too worthless to seek help. The proletariat can be exploited without realizing its own interests.

Help must sometimes come from an external source. What is determined must be un-determined by constant effort. Isolation can happen very quickly. Hope can quickly be shrouded by despair. If you know someone who is out at sea struggling to stay afloat, keep on throwing life-saving ropes to draw them back in until something catches. Then feed them love. It is very hard from the outside to know just how truly a person needs to be loved.

Love is the only means to un-make feelings of worthlessness or helplessness. Love overthrows tyrants. Even more than freedom, love is the foundation of dignity. For one who is free but unloved will struggle with wretched inner-feelings, as much as one who is un-free and un-loved. The love we need to give does not have to be some super-natural concept. The day-to-day concern for people, fellowship, sharing things in common, culture-building and physical intimacy is what we enlightened mammals desire.

Once such basic needs, which can effectively be summed up by LOVING COMMUNITY are accomplished, all that is virtuous can follow. Just as a flower must be planted in fertile soil, watered regularly and mulched around to reach full life, so human beings must belong to a community, be well-nurtured, and protected from the worst of life. No matter how much humanity grows in technology and intellect, happiness will not be achieved until this most straightforward need is acknowledged. Any attempt to encourage happy citizens in a fragmented, isolating society is like planting a flower in concrete, shining the light of a false sun upon it, and selling it artificial fertilizer until it dies of cancer.

To have time for another is the most important thing on this earth for us frail, existentially lost beings. All an animal has is its fellow animal. We can be more than our pain, and we can find a new foundation stone of dignity if we are loved.

Love can turn back any darkness, eventually.