Good morning.
I am at a hostel in Rotterdam. Its quite nice. They have pancakes for breakfast. I am having them with peanut butter and strawberry jam. And coffee.
I feel less shitty this morning. I slept quite well. It was warm. It is now raining outside and temperature is +6. I dont mind it if its cold outside as long as its warm and dry inside. Not too dry but basically tropical as that is what we are adapted to.
Just the fact that i can think about this kind of stuff and not have life threatening concerns is a clear sign that my survival needs have been met! There are no predators or tribes trying to kill me. I can walk outside and yawn peacefully. Or do yoga.
Is this freedom?
I can basically do anything i want. Or do nothing at all, which is even more free financially. You can spend very little money in the worlds most expensive places if you fast and meditate and just walk around the museum of modern life. Movement is also free. And if you get hungry or lonely, there are plenty of options for that too.
But this freedom doesnt satisfy me. It too easy. Money changes the game. Money quantifies the value of things and for some reason many people find this threatening to their self worth and spiritual views.
Many people think money does not make us happy or that chasing money is not a good way to live. They assume that money represents some kind of lost power struggle with evil bankers and politicians.
I used to also think this way. Money is evil. Capitalism is bad. We need to get rid of money. Etc. Etc.
The truth is, money is just a technology. Nothing us inherently evil in and of itself. Money can be used to build schools and grand pianos. Or it can be used to fund wars and build bombs.
If we wanna talk about evil, we have to go deeper. We have to go within. And without. We have to follow the blood. When did it all start? What is the source of all this conflict we see in the world and in ourselves?
I am the problem. Blame me.
I have evil thoughts. Especially when the inner storms are raging. Anger and hatred are easy emotions to grab hold of quickly. Like a shot of vodka. They give us temporary clarity. They help channel our energies and feel a sense of aliveness and purpose.
But these dark emotions are also dangerous if I let them give me too much energy.
I dont want to harm anyone. In fact i want to protect everyone from this dark energy. So i go into self destructive mode to preserve the species. It is not immediate self destruction because another part of me is trying to care for me as well. And this is the conflict. Chaos meets order. Hello darkness my old friend.
My gf asked my what she can do when I am like this. Does talking help? Should she leave me alone? I told her that i just like it when she is near. I know its very difficult to do. Its hard to see someone suffering and its tempting to unleash all our self-help pop psychology advice thinking that all these wonderful positive concepts will cure the world.
It doesnt work that way.
Words cannot solve anything. They imprison us. They are pale imitations of what they claim to represents.
Yet this is a trap.
Words are also everything. The only thing connecting us right now is these words between us.
I love words. Words construct ideas and poetry and screenplays and great stories. They form philosophies that become methods for obtaining knowledge and building technologies.
Words are language. Words are collections of symbols that we use to communicate.
But when i am feeling like death shat in my mouth, every words feels like a knife in my heart. There are already too many thoughts whirling around my head. They are at war. Every thought becomes a dead end.
And i am very skillful at justifying even my irrational thoughts. You have to be very skillful in philosophical inquiry to not let my dark seductive hurricane emotions not get under your skin. People are so fragile and my words can really cut deep. I get a perverse joy out of dragging others into my swamp. And then i feel guilty and everything is even worse. This is how hate spreads.
So if you wanna talk, make sure you are ready for a different kind if conversation. Make sure you know your logical fallacies. Otherwise i can do some serious damage.
And if you are good with your philosophy and listening skills, I will get even more angry. I will become a child and have a temper tantrum. I will feel stupid and uneducated and overwhelmed. If you are Socrates, i will give you a death sentence. I will not play fair.
But it is possible to communicate with each other in a very loving way. Not to fix or solve anything. Just to be there. To help me make sense of the darkness. To calm me down. And if the roles were reversed, i would be extremely curious to understand another’s suffering. I can learn from it. But this has to be done in a nurturing way.
Anger and hatred are lost, abandoned children who nobody wants to love. They are alone and afraid and hungry in the cold. Everyone walks by and they feel invisible. They find each other and start terrorist groups and punk bands. They feel comforted when they find their kin.
We can help them. They are part of us. They have a function. They are part of the whole.
Remember, fear is actually the fear of fear. This makes no sense when I am lost in the storm. But it makes a lot if sense when we learn to be present with fear. And not forget about it even if i am not feeling it.
I feel fear right now. It is somewhere in my stomach, gut, chest. My breath feels shallow. Anxiety. I want to cry and be held. I dont know if it will ever go away. It is not pleasant. Counter-intuitively i welcome the fear. Hello fear. How are you. Its alright. Stay here with me. I will listen to you.
People are talking and eating their breakfasts. I make the occasional comment. I dont know why. To create sunshine or something. To show that i am cool. To impress the ladies? Why is everyone always talking? Is it fear or love?
I need to get a bus to Amsterdam. I am going to my friend’s office to sort out my music equipment.
It feels good to write. Although i am doing it on my phone. I no longer call them smartphones. This is a mini computer. And i dont like it that my head is down and thumbs running around. I always judge others for doing this. But i am writing a book. What if they are too? What if we are all great writers?
I am grateful to be alive right now. I am writing you this and i have no idea when or if anyone will ever read it.
I want to continue. I want to just write all day. There is so many things to say. I am getting pleasure out of this. This is some kind of sexual/creative energy that want to be released.
Just gotta make sure i dont abuse this power, this precious connection of ours. So many times i am reading and after some time i lose interest and feel like the book is going nowhere so i give up and read something else.
We are going somewhere.
Stay.