Let’s not even get started on the freckles I mean they’re everywhere…wait lemme check…nope. They’re not on my pee pee
Listen on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/7qxJ5EE4xANBa92Ddtghu1?si=tW9DtrfHQsCFyaKC59oilA
Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/inside-the-minds-eye/id1054275204?i=1000524436398
I woke up this morning in a log cabin and the first thing I noticed were the walls.
Each piece of wood had dark indents in them, the beginnings of an eye of sauron plastered all over the room.
The natural tone and structure of the log cabin seemed alive even after death.
There are no straight lines in nature.
Nor are there any straight color sets.
It seems everything is a blend, a shade of different colors to set a tone, or an essence to represent the grey brown green foliage of nature.
The rocks, the trees, the grass, the sea, and the leaves.
An amalgamation of different colors and everything is weathered and worn.
There’s not a single straight line or color tone on my body either.
My hair is a mixture of brown, orange, and blonde.
My skin is a shade of pink gingery cream with reddish brown spots.
My eyes, a deep blue with streaks of grey.
And in the center, a void. A bottomless black.
Let’s not even get started on the freckles I mean they’re everywhere…wait lemme check…nope. They’re not on my pee pee.
It seems they go where the sun goes.
I read in a science journal that whenever we see large bodies of water endorfins release in our brain, triggering a good feeling. A whoaaaaa look at that river! Or that lake! Or that ocean!
Apparently it’s an evolutionary mechanism to help keep us alive, biologically associating ourselves to the main source, or factor, for our survival.
It’s the same with red meat. When we see cuts of meat, it releases chemicals in our brain, making our mouths water and engaging the senses. Heightened.
I think a lot of times we forget that we’re animals.
Most action we take underlying a base need, or animalistic impulse.
Hunger, thirst, safety, comfort, sexuality.
I’ve noticed that when I have sex, or become engaged with a female, part of my drive , or ambition, dissipates. It’s almost as if a base need has been met, putting me in a relaxed position.
Same with having a good meal or completing a workout.
Part of me wonders if the work I do is a form of repression. In a sense, seeking to understand the underlying cause of behavior as a means of transcending it…
For what cause tho?
It’s way more fun to live, to dance and move and climb and claw and fight and fuck and forage and…
A tribe of people adapting to a tone, vibe, or culture. A totally nuanced environment, made malleable by the alpha figures. The gods. The parents.
Like wizards working on clay people, molding children in their likeness with worldviews, character traits, and ways of approaching problems.
I watched a lot as a kid. I saw how my parents treated others, saw my siblings get in trouble, and stayed quiet. Observed. Recognized when the wizards were in a relaxed mood, a stressed mood, and waited for a window to have the highest likelihood of success when I asked for things.
I also dumped points into charisma. Like faction points in an rpg…I would say and do things as a means of building credit with the wizards. That way, when there was something I really wanted, I had a steady supply of faction to draw from.
Like the time I worked for my dad for a whole weekend and when he tried to pay me I said, “No thank you. But there will come a time when I will ask a favor,” squinting my eyes deep like Brando.
I was really into the mafia for an entire year. Reading and watching everything I could get my hands on: The Godfather, goodfellas, casino…I read all the books too.
I was fascinated by the honor of thieves. The character of men in power. The out of bounds behavior in service of a credo, or a code.
There’s something absolutely free in it. Something pure. Where your word held weight and your actions meant business.
You could be your own man and no one could do anything about it cause you were protected. Police in your pocket…though violence and death was always imminent.
What a way to be alive. What a way to thrive…
And they did. Baller city everywhere they went. There was also progression, growth. You could become a captain, a leader, and other men would follow you, work with you. Look up to you as you looked up, to attain mountains and mountains of cocaine as you blasted your way to the top.
Shot in the back by an assassin dude with a shotgun.
What a way to go.
You’ve done everything you could ever think of wanting to do and then you die. What a way to live.
Hedonism. To live for pleasure.
Stoicism. To live for balance. Peace. Contentment.
Gonna rip one from wikipedia here cause it details stoic philosophy better than I could:
Stoicism is an ancient Greek school of philosophy that taught that virtue, the highest good, is based on knowledge; the wise live in harmony with the divine Reason (also identified with Fate and Providence) that governs nature, and are indifferent to the vicissitudes of fortune and to pleasure and pain.
In simple terms, the stoic makes friend with Reality, with what is. The stoic works their mind and body to “want” what happens to them.
To want what’s happens to you, whatever it may be, as an opportunity for growth. For wisdom, knowledge, and experiential depths of understanding.
They also take cold showers in the morning for no reason just to remind them that things can be really really shitty
I like to go to 12 step meetings and listen to people in the struggle
Or watch documentaries about the Holocaust
I think to honor suffering is the purest form of gratitude cause it wakes you up.
I like stories of people who throw themselves in the wilderness with insurmountable odds and tell us how they got out.
Cause that’s what I want to hear. How bad can it get…
Cause it could be that much better too.