Musings

Does it really matter if the inner self is an illusion?

It could be argued that love is an illusion, or life is an illusion. The difference between dream and reality, making love and fucking, friendship and acquaintance – lies wherever you decide to believe in it. The moment you stop believing it, it is no longer real.

The same goes for identity.  Some people may be driven to spend their whole lives figuring out who they are, because it’s a compulsion to do so, even if they admit that origin and identity are constructs that exist because we decide to believe in them, give credence to them and invest in them. Others might give this construct less credence. 

But, I don’t understand what the point is, in dismantling the construct. To me, it doesn’t matter if something is objectively ‘real’ or not. I’m subjective, and if I have to make one ‘objectively true’ statement about myself, it’s that I’ll never be objective or unbiased. Nobody can ever be. And to me, doubting the very source of my passions and feelings is unnatural and unproductive. I’m naturally driven to take my feelings at face value, and dissect the patterns behind them. And I don’t see how that makes me worse than someone who doesn’t invest in their self or identity.

I don’t disagree that self is an illusion – I just wonder at what point it’s productive to fold my mind over and over upon itself to dismantle my passions. When I say productive, I mean toward personal growth; I don’t mean “achievement-oriented” or “inducing concrete results.”

I have already realized the concept of self is illusory long, long ago. I read several books by Herman Hesse and Carlos Casteneda when I was 11 or 12, and in my later teens and early 20s I deconstructed and reconstructed myself thoroughly with the use of LSD – which I used for spiritual reasons, personal growth, self-searching, artistic development and so on. I am more than aware of the simple truths like “Self is an ego construct” but I wonder what good it does me to dwell on dismantling it, rather than to express it and trust my intuitions. If there’s one thing I learned through my losses, trauma and soul searching, it’s that life has no inherent meaning – it’s up to us to give it meaning.  And having a sense of purpose is what gives my life meaning.  My sense of purpose goes beyond understanding myself- it extends to the realm of expressing myself in the most honest, bare, authentic way I experience it.  And doubting all my experiences and feelings does not help me to do that, but rather, turns in on itself and gets me nowhere. I already know life could be a dream and my sense of self could be deconstructed.. but so what? 

Each LSD trip was like cleaning out my house. Imagine putting all your stuff outside, leaving it to chance – it could be stolen, it could rain or snow. You cant get rid of the shape of your house… that’s your body, your container. All of the things inside it are your identity construct, your feelings, your aesthetic, your ideas, your values, the things you chose to define and expand yourself. So now, those things are outside and anything could happen to them. As the trip winds down over several hours, you decide which things are important or helpful and bring them back in first, and arrange them in a new way that makes more sense now that you’ve seen your container empty. You leave outside the things that are too heavy or taking up unnecessary space.

I could do this over and over and over, but I don’t find it productive at this point. My house has been arranged in a certain way that is conducive to writing music, recording my albums, writing my books, building on the constructs and choices that have emerged from my self-exploration. I could take LSD or do other things to clean it out again and leave it empty over and over, but then I will never build on it, I will never expand beyond it; I will only reflect on myself ad nauseum, like an endless, eternal hall of mirrors, and I will never simply BE with myself the way I chose to build myself, and put something out for the world, something that I CHOSE to give meaning to, something that feels like a purpose and gives me impetus to wake up every morning and keep going. Which would be the more logical and emotionally satisfying and HONEST choice? Growth is about embodying ourselves, taking action, expressing ourselves out in the world.. basically, turning the hall of mirrors outward instead of reflecting on ourselves until we’re empty and our lives are meaningless and we are utterly isolated.

“Let evolution weed them out” you say.

Evolution certainly does.

It weeds out the dreamers, the lovers, the bleeding hearts. You can’t spill the pain from your eyes and survive. But nobody told him to keep it inside. They loved the art, the poetry, the beauty, the glamor. That’s worth loving, isn’t it? I look on his facebook page. “I’ve loved you since highschool.” “I loved you like family.” So much love, yet no hope. Everyone loves a suffering artist. You grow to expect that outpour of art. The pain never stops. The art may light a fire in your soul. But it is not made of fire. This pain is an ocean. The depths are endless. Endless. The art is because we can’t fit it all inside. It may come in different forms. A lingering dampness in the air, a rainstorm, a tsunami, a typhoon. Blood, sweat and tears. You drink it in for dear life and you leave us there before you drown. After all, you need to survive. Build something that “lasts” because, of course, that’s what matters to you. You can count on us to be there, any day, any night, with another poem, another song, another expressive, sad-eyed selfie. That is what you love. What we feed. We nourish what you kill inside yourself. You don’t care where it comes from, but only that it is there. The minute we stop bleeding before you, we are lost in the abyss, condemned to compete against the undead survivors. Yet it is so much more fulfilling to express it in the form of beauty. Then at least you love us, truly, if only for an instant. Anyone will cry for a muse.

We don’t need money, mansions or fame. All we want is to be loved for who we really are… but nobody can even see who we really are. We pour it into art, music and poetry, and that is all you see. Yet, we cannot blame you. We did this to ourselves.

Art, music and poetry. It’s all I will ever be. It’s all he ever was and now, it is all that remains. If he were not embodying his pain… what would anyone remember? If he were not gorgeous, blond, body builder, surrounded in music and vibrant paintings, covered in beautiful tattoos of his own making.. would any of these women even care that he is dead? Nobody will ever know. He died young and everyone will remember the beauty. That is art. It’s all we sufferers are good for. Reminding the undead of the soul they have beaten to death in order to survive. Scraping up any corner of humanity to hold a mirror to the world and show them what they truly are. Beauty, pain and longing. Nothing and everything. Life and death.

You fight to survive and we fight to live. Thus, you will survive, and we… we will live. Enjoy the mirror while you can. Evolution will handle us.

~ For Dave Berlingeri. RIP ~

Romanticism is a state of mind that stems from vulnerability and an open-hearted relationship with the world. A true romantic experiences compassion, empathy, curiosity and energy. Romantics are moved to the core by something, be it beauty, pain, sorrow, rage, joy, impermanence, diversity, loneliness or vastness. Whatever it is, it stirs a romantic to the bone. The wide-eyed wonder and open-hearted sensitivity of a child is easy for a true romantic to relate to. Of course, even romantics will endure disappointments and thus feel less moved by their surroundings for periods of time – but in their natural state, a romantic is sensitive to the nuances of the world.

Romanticism is feeling a song in the pit of your stomach. Filling yourself with the scent of a forest. Feeling chills run down your back from listening to a violin solo. Caressing a kitten and finding it so delicate and beautiful that you shake. Tearing up at the sight of a wounded bird. Feeling a raging volcano in your chest upon watching a video of children being abused. Being in awe of the vastness of nature. Feeling the grass between your toes. Learning something about yourself from observing an animal. Savoring the taste of a bloody steak and feeling energy run through you as you eat it. Listening to the beat of your own heart. Being mind blown by the vastness of space and curious about what it is made of. Pondering your own mortality and feeling grateful for the wonder of life. Feeling inspired by the integrity, brilliance, strength, honesty or beauty of a person, animal or plant.

Complimenting a lover in order to make them want to get naked with you, is not romanticism. It is seduction. It is, in essence, stimulating someone’s ego for the sake of a result. I have nothing against seduction. I am simply drawing a contrast. Daydreaming about a future with someone is not romanticism either. It is human to want a partner, and to wish to sustain a connection with someone you feel close to.

I am completely in favor of traditional acts of chivalry – but this is not the same as genuine romanticism. It may be coupled with romanticism, but in itself, that is not what it is. It is only romantic if every action is felt at the core. If you are dancing along with the flow of your feelings. It is romantic if it is an expression of how generous that person makes you feel and the kindness your lover awakens inside of you.

Traditionalism is romantic if and only if it is an expression of one’s beliefs and lifestyle, and genuine understanding and respect for the traditions it arose from. It may be romantic if it is an expression of reverence for your culture, the culture of specific ancestors, or a state of mind that you truly possess. But it is not romantic if someone walks a walk and does not feel the rhythm running through their core. I am not claiming it’s wrong or evil to do that, but simply that it is not romanticism.

My theory about why “romanticism” is conflated with relationships, is that being attracted to someone awakens certain hormones and chemicals which induce such a state temporarily. Expression of these feelings is known as “romance” – and that is not incorrect. But, a person is not innately “romantic” because they are turned on by the prospect of a relationship. A person is a romantic at heart if they are in a romantic relationship with the world, regardless of whether or not they are currently dating anyone. This romanticism, of course, will be augmented in love and shared with a lover, if it is part of someone’s general personality. However, if it is induced in someone solely by the prospect of sex and relationships, the person will fade back to their usual state in a long-term relationship.

When we meet someone who stirs us to the core, we feel vulnerable. Then we will go to great lengths to protect ourselves, even do stupid things, or things that are inadvertently cruel. Even the most reasonable, dignified, respectful person will falter when feeling vulnerable. The eyes of a soul mate unravel you, make you feel naked. When your humanity is exposed, your animal instinct is to protect it. 

If you’ve been perfect in romance, and treated your partners perfectly, you haven’t loved. You haven’t confronted your humanity. If you confront this only in private, you haven’t made yourself vulnerable to someone else. To make yourself vulnerable to someone else is to expose your weaknesses, fears, shame and rage, bare for them to see. To accept theirs in turn. To follow them to the darkest, most frightening, torturous corners of their psyche. Mentally, this is to dive into lava and tornadoes, to stand naked in a snowstorm, to follow them into the void, to their fear of death, to their childhood traumas, just to be with them, so they won’t be alone there. To open yourself up to chance; to surrender control. 

After experiencing various levels of surrender and openness, one may feel that a soul mate truly knows them, and has seen them bare. There may be love, honesty and mutual acceptance. Ideally that would be the case in any relationship or friendship. But what separates a soulmate from the regular companion or lover is that a “soul mate” would not be dependent on a relationship. It is an unbreakable bond. It just is. A soul mate just is. You can fight as hard as you want to break the bond, you can walk away for years, you can marry someone else, you can deny it to the skies, but still, your soul mate just IS. To use a word like “soul,” one implies transcendence of desire, lust, and fear. Of course, those human elements are real and will never disappear, but when we truly accept and recognize a soul mate, the bond is beyond that. Frustrations and fear of loss will be there, but the outcome becomes irrelevant because the soul is stirred by something beyond. In recognizing a soul mate, we recognize ourselves, here and now. The synchronicity between you will push you both to grow, just as watching yourself in the mirror pushes you to pose in a more beautiful way. If your mirror had an emotional reaction, posing would not be enough. You would work out, eat right, care for your skin and hair, change your lifestyle just for that smile. The difference is, for a “soul mate,” this person mirrors your innards. Your mind, your soul, your humanity.

When someone sees you, watches you, unravels you, exposes you; you want to give, to grow, to be better in order to inspire that person, because you will see yourself through their eyes. You will never wonder whether that person is doing it for you in return, because it just is; expressing yourself to this person is being true to yourself, and it feels natural. Giving them anything less than your all feels unnatural; it feels like trying to stand still while the tide is pushing against you. Most people will do this for some time, resisting the forces of nature to try to feel like they are in control, to feel a sense of free will, to take a stand. But once you have recognized and accepted that you have met your soul mate, and grown enough to surrender to that force, you work with the tide without losing your own will. Your will is the will of the world. Giving your all is a natural process of revelation and growth, and all that matters is that this process is happening. It is honest, true; it is now, and it is infinity. With or without labels, commitments, sex, promises, or expectation, it simply is.

The trials and tribulations of corporeal life cannot touch something that is truly sacred. But we cannot recognize what is truly sacred until we, ourselves, have evolved. To recognize something greater than ourselves requires humility. Meeting a soul mate is not an easy, happy ride. It is a life changing experience that digs up all of our demons and fears, and forces us to face our humanity.

“Special snowflake syndrome” is a biological imperative.

If we aren’t biased to love our own child more than another child, or our own pets over other pets, there would be chaos.

Same goes for ourselves. If we’re not biased toward believing in our own success over someone else’s, we would ultimately be removed from the gene pool and/or would not have substantial income to provide for our family.

So, actually, “special snowflake syndrome” is an evolutionary advantage. It means you think you are important and special enough that you believe in yourself, and you’re biased toward your own special success , your own special dreams coming true and your own special seed spreading.

Memories are the devil’s lure, tempting us to remain immobile. Good memories tempt us with their sweet song and lead us to resent ourselves and others for their impermanence. Bad memories lure us to succumb to cynicism. Memories are just as fantastical as dreams for the future. They exist only as constructions in our present mind. Memories and dreams are tools to use in the present. If we use them as tools, they can be harnessed to enact our passion and purpose so that we are living in the present with a powerful feeling of being part of something greater than ourselves. The journey becomes the destination. All feelings and thoughts about past and future can be harnessed in the present, but they must be understood as mental constructions or else they will lure us deeper into themselves.

Soul-shaking, earth-shattering passion is something that grabs hold of you. It’s not something you can look for. When it grabs hold of you, there’s nothing in the world that isn’t worth doing to make it work. It’s no longer about pride, dignity, power, influence, control. All it is, is life. It comes along with the natural impetus to be more selfless; to be a better, bigger person. To grow beyond the capacity we thought ourselves capable. 

No matter how unrealistic, illogical, nonsensical and impractical desire may be, a feeling like that is what living is about. It’s the difference between living and surviving. It’s worth hurting for, fighting for, yearning for, suffering for. The roller coaster ride of desire and obsessions is painful and can make a person want to shut down and regain control for the sake of sanity. But that would be surviving, not living. I will do everything in my power to embrace the dreams and challenges that bring me to life.  Desire is insanity. Or perhaps it’s the least insane instinct of all.

Power is having the strength to overcome adversity. Building up influence, building skills, saving money to be autonomous; these can help inner strength to build through self-esteem that results from hard work and effort. But true power is within yourself. When all else falls apart for reasons beyond your control, power is having the strength to stand strong, stay true to yourself, hold on to your integrity, and triumph.

Power is resisting the urge to betray your integrity, become vengeful, angry, hostile and self-destructive, when life fucks you over. Power is keeping your eye on your goals and moving forward no matter what else happens. Power is trusting yourself. If you have your integrity, you will always have power.

Power is rising above the trials in your life to keep the dreams of your childhood in sight, even when the world has stripped you of everything else. No matter how out of reach your dreams may seem, there is always a path back to them, and that path is inside of you. As long as you remember how to find your dreams, you will have power.

Inner strength and fidelity to self is mastery of life. As long as you have that, you are an unstoppable force. You don’t have to scramble to ‘get power’ because you already have it, and nobody can take it away from you.

Style, to me, isn’t about flowery language, ‘the moves,’ and presentation. It’s about being true to yourself. Anyone who expresses something honest is bound to touch on something universal. Great art will not reveal the artist, but rather, will serve as a mirror to reveal the spectator to herself. The same goes for clothing, conversation, loving, or any action or expression. Animalism, humanism, and a unique voice exist inside every individual. If someone taps into her true self and explores her own potential, then her honest expression and communication will naturally have its own style, and her very existence may become a symbol in the eyes of others; as she may symbolize their own potential.

What some people might call ‘style’ I would call integrity. Integrity involves honesty as well as commitment. If a person is dedicated to her craft, she can express herself more honestly in the moment. For instance, if a musician puts in her “10,000 hours” practicing, then the minute she is moved to express her deep emotions, she can go to the piano, close her eyes, press the ‘record’ button and let the song write itself through her. If she rehearses a lot, then when she’s on stage, she can let herself go and trust the music to pour through her limbs as a numinous force that moves her on its own. If someone does something with such ease that her body is a vessel through which honesty is expressed, then she probably put a lot of time into honing that skill. In this manner, style develops from within.

Wrapping something up in an attempt at ‘style’ impedes communication. A lot of music, art, conversation, loving, or day to day expression is caked in makeup, bullshit and selling-points that mask the raw humanity that could otherwise be expressed. The most beautiful outfit looks dull on a person who doesn’t breathe its colors, and an eloquent political speech is made of dust if the politician has no past actions to back up his words. People use skimpy attempts at ‘style’ to compensate for a lack of hard work and self-awareness. This is the trap of ‘aiming for style’ that people fall into, rather than simply being. If someone is brave enough to define and pursue her passion and purpose, and puts blood, sweat and tears into her life and work, then even if she is a garbage woman she will automatically collect that garbage with style. But ironically, she who is concerned with style is unlikely to have much style at all.

Cats have more style than dogs because they aim to please no one.