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In this post I'd like to talk about the night I just had and my thoughts, which came as a result of one huge thing happening. Me and 5 of my friends were hanging out after not seeing each other for a really long time due to college. Being the 20 year olds we are, we decide to take some shrooms because hey, whatever, right?
One of my friends, while we were chatting outside, suddenly went wide eyed and fell to the ground. We thought he was having a really strong trip, but turns out he was going into shock. Must have been because of a lot of things happening (him not eating all day, picking up smoking again, cold as shit weather with just a light jacket, drugs), but he was having this seizure like thing. We knelt down to the ground, and I swear to god you could see his life dissapear as he went unconscious for a good 15 seconds (the longest of my life). He then gasped up, and basically got himself together after we went inside and he had a bite to eat. After making sure that he was fine, I saw that this had a profound effect on me:
Stressing out about life? If it's things you can't control then it'll happen. If it is something you can control, then control it. Any limit to the latter is just a story you tell yourself. If you honestly look at some things that are happening in your life, a lot of the misery, at least for me, was of my own doing. Whether it be me limiting my actions or me driving my actions into things with long term negative benefit. I created my unhappiness, not anybody else.
I have spent 20 years shaping my actions to fit a mold I've designed for myself. This mold was fueled by misery, anger, regret. I feel like I've been carrying it around all my life. That this was the key to survival. Accepting that death can come at any time, that life can change in an instant, kind of destroys any sense of control over outer circumstance. And further negative stories that you create to make yourself miserable are unneeded baggage at best, and usually things that fuck over your whole life. Stories you tell yourself. Things that happen in your head. It's so unique, this internal experience, and yet instead of relaxing into it we use bits and pieces of it to try and alter reality, thinking that that's the answer to fix unhappiness. It's like a person owning a bus calling everybody in, going down a steep slope with a lot of turns during the winter, going 100 mph, and having anxiety over getting everybody killed. Navigating that instead of simply not taking the bus out of the driveway in the first place. Because you don't really need to take the bus out and prove to everybody that it can be fun. It can just be your own fun bus, to be used as you please. The point of that weird little metaphor was to show that a lot of unhappiness is usually of your own doing. Me being this tragic character in a play I'm producing and directing myself.
Basically, shit kind of got sorted as I stared death in the face. All this time I've been thinking that something needs to happen, a "dramatic example to shake myself out of apathy", if I were to quote Bruce Wayne. This kind of did it. Everything will now pass a filter through my head - is this a story you're creating? The story has no end, it's just there to serve a purpose of giving life meaning. My problems with self-hatred. All this time I thought it was something, a means to an end. Me discovering why I hated myself would make everything else good. But who gives a shit, it doesn't change anything in reality. Just my experience of it. So why bother with it. It really is as worthless as it gets.
Life is really just one big experience with an uncertain duration. And that experience changes plenty and drastically with no doing of our own. Realizing though, that in spite of this, we fuel a good 95% (in my opinion), or what our life looks like, is eye boggling. And I'm not talking about our actions, but rather our perception of reality. Being in a certain city or country, for example - it can define you positively, it can define you negatively, or it can really not matter at all. That choice is yours, and this applies to everything. Me having the relationship I have with my parents can be something that defines me positively, or it can be this huge weight I carry around. Or I can simply not care. And that decision is entirely mine. It's a story I create for myself, for whatever reason.
A midget can either have gigantic self esteem issues because of how much shorter he is than everybody, or he can just feel tripped out thinking how weird life must be from up there. He knows it down here and likes it more anyway.
I really do hope this made sense to at least somebody. And damn, is health important.
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Take it easy, man. But take it.
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