The longer I look, the more I realize that I allowed myself to get snookered by appearances. Why? Thirst. A thirsty man will not stop to question a mirage if he's dying of thirst; he'll just run after it. People are wholes. Ayn Rand and Daniel Mackler seem to have this idea of people as integrated wholes. At least Rand understood that she was creating perfect architypes. Mackler's "totally conscious human being" is a joke. You cannot eliminate the subconscious; it has its own purpose. Mackler is nutz. I think we're built to progress toward that end, but I think that there is not perfection to be found in the world. People are complex mixes of premises, some true and some in error or false. The conflicting ones get internalized by fragmented persona and we spend our lives in a continuous process of re-integrating. The process is conscious to the degree of our awareness. I think I can honestly say my awareness has expanded since spring. I cannot return to the shape I was in April, at least not in terms of awareness and experience. That's a good thing.
I spent my walk doing the inhalation-exhalation thing, down the middle. Heh. I don't know exactly how it works, but I do think it does have effects on my mood and my thinking. Mostly, my Internal DJ has been blasting Johnny Rzeznik's "I'm Still Here" in my mind's ears. It feels good. The Internal DJ was also entertaining me, as I walked, with various pieces of that tune, and three others:
Crosby, Stills, and Nash
So we cheated and we lied and we tested,
And we never failed to fail,
It was the easiest thing to do,
You will survive being bested,
And somebody fine will come along and make me forget about loving you,
In the Southern Cross.
Listen as the wind blows,
From across the great divide,
Voices trapped in yearning,
Memories trapped in time,
The night is my companion,
And solitude my guide,
Would I spend forever here,
And not be satisfied?
I'm Still Here
And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can the world want me to change,
They're the ones that stay the same.
They can't see me,
But I'm still here.
Every time that I look in the mirror,
All these lines on my face getting clearer,
The past is gone,
It went by like dusk to dawn,
Isn't that the way,
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay.
Yeah, I know nobody knows,
Where it comes and where it goes,
I know it's everybody's sin,
You got to lose to know how to win.
Half my life's in books' written pages,
Live and learn from fools and from sages,
You know it's true,
All the things you do, come back to you.
It has been a day of decompressing and un-deforming. Strength is the card for today. I got pulled into a mirage of a beautiful oasis that I did not really understand and did not note that what I was doing wasn't going to work, long term. I was too thirsty. I chased longer and further than I should have. It doesn't matter what kind of virtues people unquestionably do have if their vices and foibles are going to interfere with one's own in counter-productive ways. If it isn't easier then it isn't right. Oddly, reflecting on the experience that brought these thoughts to mind, my summer involvement, also brought to mind an oddly prophetic (in hindsight) dream I had in the beginning of the spring.
Back to the Austerity
So, my austerity plan fell down a bit in the past few days, having eaten candy with Xander and having played Final Fantasy XII with Shannon, at Jackie's house, and having had a piece of cheesecake yesterday during yesterday's excursion to San Francisco. I'm back on the wagon today. As of now, a quarter of three in the afternoon, I've had only a cup of coffee and water since getting out of bed this morning. Tonight, I'm going to have a couple of "Grommet Meals" for dinner and that is going to do it for today. The austerity with respect to what I am eating, coupled with the walking is certainly having a noticeable effect on my stamina and waistline. I'm not sure what the chastity/celibacy is doing for my psyche, and I have had no relapses in that department. I don't know that I am any nearer to any sort of revelation, but the more-than-monk-like refrain from sexual gratification and relief is having an effect, as I knew it would. I'm waking up hard and horny in the mornings. That's what happens. Deida seems to see horniness as some kind of "energy" that can be harnessed for "purpose." He seems to believe that self-deprivation leads to insights. I think the only insight I have so far is that I'm feeling deprived and desirous of wrapping myself in soft, hot, aromatic female flesh and blasting every sense I have in the rich, pleasurable stimulation of sex. The dreams are sure to be following soon. They always do. My libido loves advertising its perspective and desires in my nightly excursions into dreamland, especially when I am depriving it. Funny enough, for something that is supposedly an addiction, I can look at porn without indulging myself, seemingly without any problem at all. I'm wondering if I can actually go three whole months. When I was talking to L., her company and conversation were blunting the deprivation aspect, even though I still felt aroused and horny all the time. I'm wondering how long I can go, now that I don't even have the conversation. This might be interesting, if nothing else.