abishekmuses

[abishekmuses]

Is Life a Game? Why Doesn't It Feel Like it? You've dropped acid. You are in the know. You know you are in a fucking simulation.

It's all a game.

Why doesn't it feel like it then?

Why the fuck are you shit scared? why does it all feel so damn real?

You can't bloody well go back to not knowing what you now know.

That's not an option. And now that you know what you know, you don't see the fucking point of showing up at work, planning years ahead, saving up money little by little - the usual "death-trap" plan. In short, your'e fucked.

weirdly enough, despite knowing that it's all a game, you are probably more fucked, it would appear, than the "normies". They seem to be doing fine.

they're all-in on their "careers" or too busy trying to "make it work" with their girlfriends. What are you upto?

You're probably jerking off and smoking weed. And you hate yourself.

You feel fucking despicable.

You know you could do anything you wanted. You know this.

It is after all, a game.

But here you are, fucking watching it go up in smoke.

And now you've fried your dopamine receptors so much that any real effort in the physical, "phenomenal" world feels beyond you.

What the fuck do you do?

Why the fuck doesn't the game feel like a game?

You are too fucking scared to start acting on your knowledge - man it's like GTA - go fuck shit up - get messy

2. You are broke - and you are too scared to mess around and lose what you have in the pursuit of more

3. Emotions make it "Real" - shit hurts - you need some lubriation - you need your brain to release the kind of stuff that makes it all good.

4. You are tied up in outcomes - which reinforces the idea that this is not a game.

5. Your body is constantly in pain.

[abishekmuses]

I'm super grateful for my Boss

This might sound sappy - but here goes. I love this guy. Before him, I was used to employers who would try and pinch pennies by talking down the value I provide. Ok maybe that's not exactly accurate - they were strapped for cash. This guy is the exact opposite - he talks UP my talents, potential and skills every chance he gets.

No fucks given about how that might "inflate my bargaining power" and what not. He got me believing that I can actually write. I couldn't stand anything I wrote and I'd stopped writing for years. THe only reason i even began working for him was because I desperately needed the cash and my ex hooked me up with the gig through one of her contacts.

Time and time again i've been a terrible employee. terrible.

Disorganised, scattered, dishonest, cavalier, selfish, uncommunicative, opportunistic - i've been all those things. And somehow, this guy believed in me through the whole thing.

Now that i'm in a place where I see all these things in myself, I feel super grateful that he nurtured the good parts and believed in them while somehow not letting my shadow sides determine how he approached me / dealt with me. Especially recently, his role in my life has been super obvious.

I've been in "Self-isolation" of sorts for the past 2 months and some. It's been challenging in some ways - not least because i'm a very gabby person - motormouth, chatterbox - all of that. I'm also super high energy, neurotic and emotionally fluctuant - all this meant that i ended up in some pretty unsavoury places during these past few weeks.

And in some of these dark moments, the shot of love that i would receive from our talks would be that magic ingredient that would catalyse the dissolution of some of these hard emotional-energetic blocks. We have a very non-textbook dynamic in that we both do things that are big no-no's according to the standard employer-employee playbook. - i.e. he is always talking me up and I'm always questioning my skills/competence lol.

He's a mentor in many ways. I have a penchant for collecting mentors.

Like Bill from Kill Bill (god bless those of you that get the reference).

He's kind, positive and not prone to exaggerated displays of self-aggrandisement.

He's humble. He's positive, he's light - never takes himself too seriously - he's got this "lightness of touch", as Stephen Fry calls it. Love him to bits man! #boss #mentor #work

#boss

[abishekmuses]

Neediness This is an interesting topic eh?

I think I've had a problem with this. A huge part of it is inherited.

Weridly, I think i'm not always needly (even in the past).

It's a function of my energy state and emotional state.

I'm writing about this here because I definitely want to think about this topic a lot more in the days to come.

I think Mark Manson's book does a great job of breaking down neediness and its opposite - "non neediness".

I started thinking about this today because of this post I read by Visakan.

3/5/24 Wow how timely - how portentous - I wrote about this two days ago and completely forgot. Here I am now, in the "lower realms" hehe. My heart hurts. I am overcome with grief, sorrow and self-doubt.

I acted needy yesterday I think. And in the light of this state, the whole personage of Abishek looks to be in pretty bad shape. Out of control etc. Self-criticism doesn't help.

Here's what I've learned in this period - one of the lessons anyway - this whole "parents fuck you up" thing is bullshit i think. It might be true on some level but hey they can't fucking help it dude - genetics are at play i think. These behavious patterns. These samkaras. Sub-optimal eh? They need to be optimised through the sublimating process of bringing things into awareness, and accepting them. That's as far as i've gotten.

Then of course, there is aspect of actually taking hold of the controller and playing better. I kind of got there last week. Man for a second here, let me just speak about the linkedin thing - dude as of last week, i was so dialled in - hey but that's what all the warnings were about eh? This is an endurance game man. It's just about blind belief and the inevitable optimisation that'll happen. Maybe at some stage, the optimisation won't happen automatically but we're not there yet.

God it was a telling example of neediness what happened with kamalesh yeseterday - the awareness was there - it really was - i didn't want to say it - it was straining to come out - why? - i think I like the dopamine hits - i'm so starved of that feeling of well being and fulfillemnt - that feeling of having my own respect and feeling like i'm dialled into the game and that i've victories behind me and ahead of me, that i seek any and everything that resembles a small victory. Wow this is an important lesson to learn man. This insight, if properly handled, is going to catapult us so far beyond these levels, you have no idea. This is an amazing moment. This is a moment that is pretty damn close to being a win by itself. I think it IS a win. It doesn't feel like it but it can be - if only I contend with it in the right way, optimise and keep moving forward.

I want that internet money. I fucking want it. There - I fucking said it. I want that fucking internet money. I want to do it right. I want that money but I want it playing in my own aesthetic zone. I will not sell out. I want enough that I can play - I want enough to always see life as play. i want enough to pursue my interests and not have sword hanging over my head. Ok now im thinking if the explanation i ended up with for the oversharing behaviour is actually accurate.

Look at these stuttering thoughts. A mind that works in a very particular way - this is the way my dad's mind works. He must have gone through some serious pain and trauma man - with people mocking him and not giving him respect. I feel for that man so bad right now. I have my english to fall back on. I have my fortress, as johannes puts it. I'm in a lot of pain right now with all my tools, my understandings, my experiences - this whole fucking thing is a fucking dream - a video game - I know this and it still hurts - imagine the plight of that man. Fuck dude I really want to support him and ease his pain somehow. I don't know how yet but this is me making a strong sankalpa towards that end.

These genetics have their limitations - obviously. I can transcend but it's not simply about wishing it to happen. It's not about intellectualising. It's about bringing as many aspects of this into my awareness as possible. Intuitively, i feel like taking charge of my physical appearance is going to a huge step in the right direction. I want to invest more care and attention in this direction. More than anything else, I want to bring awareness there. I remember that it tripped me up in the lighthouse with Julius and Reda as well. It's a shadow spot. A place where awareness doesn't come through in this one - I've seen others having it easy. This resonates.

Which then neatly dovetails into the youtube idea as well man. The more I record myself and persist through the lack of awareness, the pain that is brought on by me doing unaesthetic things due to said lack of awareness and so on - this will work great at getting awareness into those places. Physical exercise is a HUGE part of this that's currently in limbo - it's ok bro - this feels like a rough place to be - it's not. just chill. it's all under control. we gots this!

[abishekmuses]

Language - People can't even do accents, let alone speak another language

Here’s an interesting idea - most people can’t even speak their own language in another register/dialect/accent. 

No wonder they’re hopeless at learning languages. 

A different language is a different set of mouth noises - i.e. a different band on the spectrum of mouth noises a human being is capable of producing. 

Patterns, codes etc sure - but mouth noises nonetheless. 

Dialects/registers/accents different to yours are the same - we don’t see them that way - because the people who speak them understand you exactly the way you speak. 

But when you break it down, it’s a different band of the spectrum. Just one that has so much overlap with your code that it is mutually intelligible. 

I think most people see languages all wrong. 

They see it as a set of symbols, I think ( wait let me refine that later)

I think they don’t see them as making noises. 

I always think to myself when people speak foreign languages “man they are not even trying - they are not using different muscles than they usually use” They just try to “transcribe” the new language into the closest references they have in their head (from speaking their own language)

No wonder the results are bad.

#language learning #linguistics

[abishekmuses]

Cricket, The Game of Life and The Awkwardness of Adult-Kid Relationships The joys of cricket are so manifold, so generously giving and utterly unconveyable through such mere things as words.

Where would one even start. Say I was to explain the emotion that is cricket - where would I start? where could I start?

Would I start by explaining the beauty - nay, the poetry - nay, the geometry of a sweetly timed cover drive.

Could I possibly explain to someone that feeling - that indescribably pregnant feeling that hangs in the air and in heart of the ardent fain on the first morning of a test match - and you have nothing on schedule for the day and all you plan on doing is watching the cricket.

An in form Tendulkar picking the gaps in a packed off side field with surgical precision. Dhoni finishing things off with a six. Dravid frustrating fast bowlers with his stoic defence, session after session. The ebbs and flows of a test match - the way the fuse catches fire sometimes in the last few sessions of the 5th day.

The achingly long passages of play where nothing happens and commentators turn into philosophers - giving us metaphysical musings to ponder about. The sheer poetry of watching over after over go by languidly - the scoreboard ticking over.

The dopamine rush of a sudden flurry of boundaries or wickets. Oh the joy of leather making contact with willow. The sound. The feedback. That inimitable feeling of timing the ball exquisitely and knowing the moment it leaves the bat that it's headed past the ropes.

Oh how could I begin to explain all this?

How could I tell them about "Ashes to ashes dust to dust - if Lilee won't get you, then Thommo must"

or the feared West Indian pace quartet.

Would the names Marshall, Garner, Holding, Roberts mean anything to them? Hell, would the name VIv Richards mean anything to someone who isn't also taken by this most exquisite of afflictions.

Would they think you're merely a lunatic when you say that cricket does a bloody job of acting as a metaphor for life?

Expansive, take-no-prisoners style vs circumspect outside off stump?

Compact technique vs see ball hit ball.

Monastic marathon innings - 15 ball wonder-cameos . Oh would they see it?

The first morning of an ashes series.

The magic of Mccullium's last test innings.

The unreal events of Headingley 2019.

India vs Pakistan.

Oh I say.

The G Version

I want to talk about my love for cricket with you. It's romance. It's love. it's beauty. It's passion. It's aesthetics. It's joie de vivre. Sometimes I feel, it is life itself. The sight of a batsman in tucked in whites, padded up, taking guard - ahhh. That exquisite unspeakable perfection of even witnessing a sweetly timed cover drive - let alone playing one. do you know what i mean?

the exquisite comprehensiveness with which cricket acts as a metaphot for life. The addictive yet ever-fresh sensual pleasure of leather striking willow. The sweet sound. The feedback through the hands. The sweet rhythm of building an innings and reaching a crescendo. The bated breaths when totals are being chased. That air of expectation and possibility when a test is about to begin and it's time for toss. those agonising waits for the next day's play to begin. The thrill of watching MSD hit last over sixes. The unspeakable joy of watching rahul dravid defend ball after ball and making bowlers feel like even a six would be preferable, given all the effort they've expended. The feeling of mastery and utter imperiousness that one feels when one pitches the ball outside a right hander's leg stump and gets it to fizz into his off stump, rattling the woodwork. Oh even phrases such as rattling the woodwork. The linguistics of cricket is a whole other treat by itself. Creaming it through the covers. hasn't troubled the scorers. He's gone for a duck. I can't remember the others but i'll try my best to remember - they are poetry - the expressions, the phrases, the idioms. Those memories of walking bat in hand, through indian streets looking for a fellow who'd oblige and bowl a few - just to feel that rush of bat hitting ball. Those memories of commentary gold - "Mccullum's at it again - he goes over extra" AHHHH Tony greig screaming "It's all happening here - SASHIN TENDALKAR" Mccullum's last test. The first morning of an ashes series. The sheer poetry of a Lord's test. The unbearable heat of Indian summers and the hopelessness of fielding for 50 overs on the face of an unbreakable partnership. The sheer ecstasy of a breakthrough. oh the ebbs and flows of test cricket - Ben Stokes on the final day of Headingley. the feared and legendary West Indian pace quartet. The audacious genius of Viv Richards that I only ever came in contact with through legends. And that of Garry Sobers, Ian Botham, Imran Khan and Kapil Dev. The trivia itself - ohh - the trivia - of how Sobers stormed into the Aussie dressing room and gave a word of warning to new boy Lilee before going on to smash him to all parts. Oh the expressions again - Took him to the cleaners. Damaged his figures. Sent it flying over cow corner. shots both sides of the wicket. two paced wickets. A bit of nip. Lateral movement on offer. Flat track bully. elegant strokemaker. Slog overs dasher. Oh God where do I start? I love this sport. Oh but the pains. The pains of loving cricket so much and getting out for a first ball duck in your first innings in years. the pain of having to pretend that never happened while you go and and field for 50 overs - watching lesser batsmen who don't quite see the poetry of it all ike you do make runs for fun. Reading about a humdinger of a test match written by an inimitably wise cricket writer - oh what a tradition - cricket writing. Mark Nicholas. Richie Benaud. Oh where do I start?

#cricket #crickettragic

[abishekmuses]

Creative.

Cole Schafer’s newsletter - it made think a few things. 

This guy’s really good at selling himself. And I don’t mean in that ANY negative sense. He embodies all that is great about the American Hustle. 

Unashamed. That’s the thing. 

And his stuff inspires me to write. 

His brand of creativity somehow gives me the license to create - to write. For the joy of it. It makes it accessible and whatever the opposite of daunting is. 

I’m thinking - there are lot of stories from my life I’d like to share. Just like his story of his camping trip. That painfully awkward crush he had on that freckled Quebecois girl. 

I have stories like that. 

I guess I’m a “creative” after all. 

I never grew up identifying with a tag like that. Wonder how I would have turned out if I had. Would my associations have been different?

I guess we’ll never know. 

But now I know for sure - I’m a creative. I’m that kind of person. 

Ha - I remember even as kid, I was fascinated with the idea of being a physician writer. 

There was so much romance to the notion.

I also remembered today that I was fascinated with the idea of writing beautiful things and then throwing them away. Morbidly fascinated with the idea of somebody picking up those pages  and reading them, wondering who wrote them. 

I want to get more comfortable with this fact - the fact that I love creating verbal structures. I love expressing myself. It doesn’t need to be towards any end - It just needs to be. 

I have a need for aesthetics. Creating beauty is its own reward. And the best part about creating for myself is that I’ll always be able to see the beauty inherent in it - the limitations or the blemishes, if you will, won’t stop me from seeing how beautiful it is. 

I feel like I have so much to say. 

Do I feel ashamed of judgement? Is that it?

I think so. I think we all are, to varying extents. 

This is what I think it is - I think I want to be associated only with the most beautiful things I can create. Not with the mediocre. 

There is some validity to this notion - I mean, brand value and all. 

But if this is getting in the way of me creating things at all, then fuck it!

Man the linkedin thing is such a bummer. I wonder what it was? The Norway thing - that’s easily explainable though - 

Anyway, I hope it works out and has that effect of making me appreciate it more. 

I want more money in my life. 

I want to create without fear. 

I want to live for joy. 

I want to roam the world free from fear, anxiety and worry. 

I’m tired of worrying. 

I’m tired of thinking about money. 

Which is ironic because the fact still remains that I have a great job - even with the salary cut. 

I want to continue checking out Cole Schafer’s work - I think it will inspire me to create more. I want to create more. I want to put it out there. It would make me happy if people engage with the stuff I create. 

I don’t care if I’m stating the obvious. I like typing. Just for the fuck of it. 

And these are honest words - why would I not like to type them?

God I remember I’ve loved typing for the longest time. I remember - I’ve loved writing words for the longest time - Wonder why it’s taken so long for me to recognise this in myself. 

Is that how pervasively pernicious the South Indian middle class trap is?

Man. I wonder. 

If a guy like me who doesn’t have a single middle class sinew in me can be held back this much - this shit must really be pervasive then. 

I feel my neurosis slipping away every time I write. Maybe Tasha was right about the Gemini energy thing. 

I wonder what she’s upto - she can be really sweet. But also ditsy. She can be profound and dumb at the same time.

What I love about her is this - she has the ability to interact with a certain spectrum of humanity that I struggle to interact with. She does it so effortlessly and seems to be able to see greatness in them - I struggle possibly because of self-consciousness. Possibly because of some misplaced sense of elitism. Some sense of a disconnect? I don’t know. Like - I don’t like the way I’ being seen? Or think I’m being seen. 

This is a lovely change of pace - the words that are coming out now are of a higher order than the usual worried rants to myself that I produce - quotidian affairs. 

So yeah money. Money would be nice. Man Linkedin!

It’ll work out. 

I think I’ll be let off with a warning. 

Time to remember than zen thing - 85% is good. Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast. I tried building my body super quickly - My back fucked up. I tried coming up on linkedin too quickly - I got banned. I tried to make a lot of money too quickly - I haven’t published an article for ONiO in a whiiiiiiile. Patience. 

It’s eluded me. I need patience. I’ll find it I think. Nandi is the man.

Ahh yes I remember. before I got to the desk to write this - I was thinking about how I’m so filled with resentment and anger - how a lot of the stuff I say about India, and “ok sir”, and this and that - it’s not that the stuff itself can’t be well received - it’s the energy - the emotional charge that’s not well received. 

Can I transmute my resentment into humour?

I think I can. I think I am doing that.

Ok. Time to attend to the quotidian. But the supernal shall be where I dwell more and more.

#creative #creativity #selfdoubt #artist

[abishekmuses]

I'm reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Just through the first couple of chapters and I"m hooked already. I used to live like this - i guess I miss those days, somewhere deep inside.

Some part of me still buys into the glamour and sheen of that deranged lifestyle. Some part of me still feels a tinge of excitement at picturing all those adventures - well misadventures rather - scoring drugs off dodgy UKrainians in the middle of godforsaken Soviet Ghosttowns - rocking up at sweaty Ukrainian strip clubs in the wee hours of dawn - after dreary nights spent trying to cook up excitement in dead old Kharkiv.

Man I hate those times. I hate those times with a vengeance. But every once in a while the manic recklessness of those times looks appealing again - you know when you're playing GTA - being a good boy - doing all your missions like you're supposed to - and then suddenly - this manic rush overpowers you and you start killing passers by in a frenzy with a fucking chainsaw?

That's how I feel with life sometimes. Not the killing people part. But the doing drugs, fucking around and driving endlessly part. Something in me craves chaos sometimes. just let the energy loose and let it do its thing with ZERO cortical intervention. Just freeflow. Just hop on planes, go places, strip naked, fuck around, do cocaine, run around in forests, climb mountains - well you get the idea.

And when I think of my 20s as a highlights package, you could definitely see this theme running through - this theme of manic recklessness and hedonistic overload.

Do I want to go back to living like that?

Probably not. Definitely not. I don't want THAT. But I want more romance. More recklessness. Less thinking about consequences. More impromptu. More daredevilry. More crazy friends that would egg me on to join them on their quests to bring some lunatic idea/vision to life.

I mean there is definitely a lot to be said for the stability, peace and health that i've managed to make part of my life in the last few years. But sometimes I think - at what fucking cost?

I have a lot to lose now. I have a sexy red car that I need to make money in order to keep. I have a sexy red bike that symbolises the daredevil lifestyle - but I could hardly have afforded it when i DID live that lifestyle.

I catch myself telling people frequently "I want to burn with life" - I always wonder what I mean when I say that - what the fuck do i actually mean? In my head all I can think of when I say that is driving down some dark country road with some pretty girls, doing drugs at 120 KMPH, blasting some kicass tunes at obscenely high volume.

And then I realise with a sigh that i've done that a million times and that's not what burning with life probably means.

I probably crave that intensity that I get in a situation like that - speed, drugs, women, urgency, mania, aliveness - but I want those things to find a different expression. i want to try new flavours.

And then I think - to hell with it - I want to live that high voltage life.- even if i only know how to live it in that flavour.

I don't know. For now, I'm going to continue in my attempt at monastic life. Abstinence. Discipline. God I hate how this sounds. But there's a reason I'm doing all this - I guess - so I'm going to stick with it for now.

But I'm sure there's going to be some high speed motorcycling and public dancing in the near future.

Maybe that's the fucking thing - it's not so much that the high speed, blaring music and girls are the problem - it's the drugs. I think what I don't want anymore is the drugs part. Maybe adventure is great. sponateinty, intensity, devil may care - it's all good. But maybe, drugs are the problem?

or maybe it's the come down that's the problem?

Maybe it's the part where I would be broke that's the problem? or the part where I wanted to be this while also being that?

I don't know. All i know is when i read something like that, i feel like "man this is a book about folks like me - the crazy fuckers. - the ones who need some chainsaw action once in a while to keep doing this shit!"

Edit - a couple of hours later Something in the way of a reconciliation.

Reconciling this apparent dilemma - chaos vs control. Mania vs health and stability.

There's no contradiction actually. I went on a walk and this is what I figured - the intensity, the cars, the bikes, the beautiful women, the drugs - they make life seem game-like.

What I'm looking for is lightness. Playfulness. Joy. No stakes. Fucking about.

Except when you find only through drugs, it's limited. It's dreary. It causes dependence. And makes life without them seem anything BUT playful and fun.

I want to live like sport.

For this, you need skill. You need to get good at the game of life. You need to get rid of emotional patterns that cause heaviness and anxiety.

That makes life a drag. That makes you want to do reckless things. It's not actually about recklessness - it's about abandon. it's not about self-destructiveness - it's about losing yourself in whatever the heck it is that you're doing with no regard for any imaginary future that you might or might not be alive for. That makes life a drag. That makes you want to do reckless things. It's not actually about recklessness - it's about abandon. it's not about self-destructiveness - it's about losing yourself in whatever the heck it is that you're doing with no regard for any imaginary future that you might or might not be alive for.

this takes skill.

Skill takes time to build.

it's the Alan Watts thing - something along the lines of how kids hate the idea of discipline - it's so dreary - it makes life seem like a friggin' chore. Skill is a concept that's much more enticing. You want to get good at the game. So play it on hard mode and get good at it. That's what I'm doing now I guess.

Or I guess that's fucking idea anyway. Let's see if it works.

Off the top of my head, from where I'm standing - it feels like lots of money, a super-resilient and co-operative body and a loose, pleasant and light emotional structure seem to be the main ingredients in living a life of intensity, play and abandon. At least, for me. There might be other things that come in people's way - but for me, i guess this is what I'm working on.

Hence, the monasticism.

But soon. I'll be ready to play.

#fear and loathing in las vegas #reckless driving #sex and drugs

[abishekmuses]

I didn't feel like writing today - but here goes

I didn't feel like writing today - like there was this distinctly discernible sense of resistance and childish petulance - something inside was afraid of turning up at writing something.

Ahh or maybe it was just the opposite - I was going through my journal where there was a lot of stuff - stuff that I'd written some time in the last month and a half or so.

One of the entries said something along the lines of "I don't have to go looking for ideas - my life stories are enough" - well something to that end.

I read that instantly started feeling some sort of panic - like "fuck I'm meant to have an endless reservoir of ideas to draw from; I'm MEANT TO! It's me that's fucking saying it - of course i'm MEANT TO! "

there was this palpable pressure to do this thing and do it well and i guess it manifests with such negative connotations that it feels like a signal not to do that thing.

I am pretty sure I can't be the only one that goes through this kind of a loop.

There's also this feeling of inadequacy from reading other people on the internet - especially ones that do stream of consciousness style writing. Like "fuck me - this is so good - how am I ever going to compare" .

That voice is very quickly replaced with another voice that says "dude you're just as good - remember that piece you wrote when you were 20? it was so good - if only you had stuck with it and continued to read and write all these years- But alas, you never did! and now here you are - a rotting 30 year old who might as well not live"

Wow - rough eh? Well, that's how it is inside me sometimes. Today is one of those days - I'm not going to lie. I woke up fucking late - like well past afternoon and my day never really got going.

This has been THE antagonist of my life so far - I'm seeing it very clearly now - why is basic regulation so difficult for me to achieve? how are other people able to do such a seemingly effortless job of achieving this?

On days like these, getting myself into the shower feels impsossible sometimes. Having said that, I sound fucking spoiled to myself and I probably will step into the shower shortly.

I feel some distaste for the kind of writing I'm doing. Writing for the sake of writing.

Believe it or not, I'm capable of producing pieces of beauty and insight - rarely if not frequently. But I am. And what I'm doing now is literally doing the bare minimum that I can do to fulfil the conditions of the challenge I set for myself last month - to write every day. 750 words if personal, 2 pages if handwritten and 500 words if i'm doing it for work - God that sounds like words that come out of bored clerks working in government offices!

What could I do to make a meal out of this challenge? To have it be more than just a perfunctory "ticking-off-the-list" activity?

Again and again and again, the answer seems to be - waking up in the middle of the day is problem!

OK maybe it is.

I have melatonin now.

Maybe I can use it to get my shit back in spec.

Apparently, unfiltered content is where it's at these days. Apparently readers want to feel like they're having a personal hang out session with the writer - I resonate with the idea somewhat - but I think it's failing to mention something.

I think what they're talking about is stuff that "simulates" the feeling of being unfiltered while still being super polished and aesthetically refined.

maybe these are truly higher-order beings comapred to me - in that even their unfiltered thoughts have a certain level of polish that muck-savages like me can't aspire to?

Or maybe they are possessed of a sense of dutifulness/industriousness/scrupulousness that won't let them hit the "post now" button without polishing things up at least a little bit?

Maybe they can never truly become unconscious of the fact that what they're writing is going to be read? Maybe I just really don't have that sense of goodwill that would make me want to write things that are just a little bit more digestible / palatable/ READABLE to the. ermm reader?

But here's the thing - however pointless this exercise seems , I don't think it's actually pointless. why you ask?

because i"m starting to feel better already.

I feel like my juices are flowing much better and I'm ready to attack my ---- night! It's close to fucking 9 PM. God the crisis is real!

I want to be diurnal again! If there are any angels floating about - please make it happen for me. I long to wake up at 6.00 and go to bed at 11.00. Please make it happen!

And on that note, I am going to leave and take a shower.

If anyone is reading this, I'm really sorry - I really hope you find more meaningful things to do in your life soon - I mean it sincerely! - go ahead and write a meandering and nonsensical post like this - it's therapeutic apparently. I can vouch for that to some extent - but i've only been doing it for a short while now.

Adieus

[abishekmuses]

The new hit-piece on Andrew Huberman was a riveting read.

She might be part of the man-hating cabal, but man this person Kerry Howley can write essays - a 5000 word piece that reads like a frggin' detective novel!

This can potentially be interpreted as me being apathetic to the plight of the women who got cheated on - but I couldn't help chuckling throughout the piece - imagining Andrew Huberman sneakily pulling all those classic casanova moves - I mean - it's Andrew Huberman for chrissakes - The guy exudes "good guy steve" vibes through and through.

The phrase "logistical jiujitsu" cracked me up to no end - that's when they discuss a day when Huberman one-ups his own legendary planning/scheduling powers by planning multiple interactions with these women over the course of a single day - something like that . Really funny stuff.

I for one really enjoyed the article. It was a nice bit of "celeb-gossipy" fun. Well written and like I said, properly entertaining. I don't know how much of an outrage it's causing among the general public - cancel culture being what it is and all - but I sure hope Andrew Huberman's not going to be Louis Ck'ed on this one.

For those who still don't know about the piece, find it here.

Oh also, I just recently found out that you can read paywalled articles by copy-pasting the link on https://archive.is/. It's been a revelation.

P.S: Reading through this Huberman piece has weirdly filled me with an extraordinary amount of joie de vivre. I turned 30 last year and I've been experiencing some of that cliche'd anxiety around it - feeling like my time's running out etc - Reading about this guy who's 48 just living it up - what with a globally renowned podcast, a tenured professorship at Stanford, millions of presumable dollars in net worth and affairs with multiple attractive women - man really gives me that "world's your oyster" kinda feeling that I haven't had in years! :)

[abishekmuses]

Dear Nastya,

I've been on this streak of writing something everyday - I intended for this to be a forcing function for me to start putting words down and kickstarting a writing habit.

I've been at it for a while now- close to a month I think. It's been good. But I also realise how I don't have as much to say as I thought I did. Sometimes I do and I write them down. but most of the time, I'm thinking about optimising my own life - I'm trying to make sense of what I want - what I don't want. I am trying to get myself out of some mindfuck or some emotional tangle.

Not that those posts from like a month ago were actually literary gold but I at least managed to find something that could be put up on a blog post. Now, it feels like I'm running dry - but I guess that's where this exercise of writing every day no matter what is going to pay off.

I hope so anyway.

Today, as I sat down to write, I had absolutely no idea what I was going to write about - just didn't feel like there was anything I wanted to say to myself. Also wasn't feeling like writing for ONiO (which would satisfy the conditions to mark today as done, writing wise.

So i figured I'd write to you. See if that makes it easier for the words to flow out - and here they are - the words do seem to be flowing out.

So, what do I want to say to you? First of all, I really hope your kidneys are doing fine and you're doing fine as a whole. I thought of something happening to you a couple of days ago and the thought was so scary it made me cry. I miss you a lot sometimes.

In the beginning, I was super occupied - very "highway to the danger zone", "eye of the tiger" kinda vibe - was in a go getter flow. Just doing things all the time and wondering why i don't have more time to do more things.

And then slowly but surely, the emotions came. In the beginning I was still rolling and thought "meh this is easy; I just lean into these feelings and i'm releasing a ton of stuff" - turns out i was stupid. the shit really started after MSR and velliangiri trek - some of those days were fucking hectic nastyush.

I was thinking the other day - funnily enough, in the beginning, when i was in a monastic zone and then later when i was in a properly "suffering" kinda state, I didn't think of you or miss you much. But when I got into the zone where I was filled with a lust for life and wanted to do this and that, I suddenly started missing you a lot and wanted to hang out really bad.

Sometimes I wonder what the hell we're doing with our lives if we can't even hang out with our favourite people - it's something i've been thinking about recently. Community is super important - we both know it - why not double down and invest in keeping it together?

Easier said than done I know - where would we do it blab blah I know - BUT IT SUCKS THOUGH!!!!!!!

Just checked on FB to make sure you're alive.

right now, i'm filled with a lot of emotions for some reason. Don't know why. I feel lost sometimes and cry a lot. But then I remind myself that this is me coming out of the mess - not getting into a new one.

I"ve been thinking a lot about the past. About Ukraine. About all those years. I still can't stop crying when I think about that time. But slowly I'm getting to a place where I am finding myself better oriented in the present.

Journaling is a good thing apparently - i can see why. I'm glad I started journaling again.

I fucked up my back Nastyush. Hate to complain but at this point I'm just writing this to myself so what the hell. So no getting hot for now. Has to wait. it's been really frustrating but I hope it gets better soon. I'm forcing myself to rest and not do anything for now. today, i thought i did "rehab" and even that was too much by the looks of it. Need to lay totally low again for a few days.

I wonder what you're upto with life these days. It feels so long ago that I spoke to you although it was only 7 weeks ago. 5 more weeks to go.

At various points in this period, there's a part of me that wants to just carry on like thise for a good while - like 3 years. Maybe that's not realistic or practical i don't know. Definitely in the early days, I felt like this was it - like all this time in life was just to come to this stage where you realise "oh fuck I need to do sadhana and get out of this" lol something like that.

Can't relate to that now. I'm in a totally different mindspace. I feel like hugging you and crying nastyush. I didn't realise it until I started writing this to you. Even writing this makes me feel cared for and loved in some way. I don't know if that makes sense.

[abishekmuses]

10/4/24 00.25

Today I literally have no idea what I'm going to be writing about - so this will be a super stream-of-consciousness like post.

First off, let me start my reviewing my day so far. As I write this, it's about half past midnight. It's been a reasonable day. Nothing crazy. I did manage to start off my 2 pomodoro medicine thing. Which is something. Not nothing for sure. I'm 30 and i'm starting to study medicine - this is my reality. I told myself that I should stop doing the pointless exercise of thining back to 2014 or 2012 and castigating myself for not doing it then. I've been doing this exercise for a long time and it's utterly pointless.

Might as well get with the reality and start now. Last few days have been interesting in that I've been seized with a manic lust for life, experiences, pleasures and adventures. the Abishek of the last few days is the roving adventurer. The insatiable maniac. The one whose energies just want to bounce endlessly. I've also been feeling extremely sexual. My loins are on fire! I can't seem to get my mind off the idea of women for more than a coupleo f hours at a time. Suddenly, i realise with a vengeance, as it were, that there are hot women around and that they have belly buttons and nupples and they do such things as take men's penises in their mouths. It's been wild. But i want to reiterate to myself that I chose this period of celibacy intentionally and volitionally. I wonder how I can get myself into that frame of mind that I occupied in the beginning of this period.

Hmmmm.

I was also thinking yesterday how even as an adolescent, i was aware of my "body" "holding me back" by getting nervous - I remember talking about it to sudhan for example. My answer back then was to "interfere" with the mind and make it not so - try and defeat my anxiety with cockiness - basically forcing myself to do the thing- get on stage, talk to the girl etc. I want to remember those times of my life more through writing. Let's get there someday. So far, so much of my emotions and thoughts revolve around the "problem period" since 2012 - actually even later? I wonder why I'm so predisposed to high heart rate etc. I can't even remember when this started. I think it was always the case. I just think i didn't notice it. I didn't have any awareness about it. I remember ayesha telling me not to get excited. I remember stuff like that. I remember renu telling me that with weed i finally "stopped bouncing off the walls". i think i was always like this - but i guess there was an additional component that complicated it when I started having real problems in life - when I got expelled, started cheating on sandra and feeling major guilt about it, started sleeping days and spending nights drinking, lying to my parents, doing lots of drugs, spending entire months away from school etc - this added a whole new layer to that natural predisposition towards sympathetic arousal.

I am quite excited about planning a few trips after all this monasticism. I'm thinking hampi, goa, rishikesh but let's see how it all works out. There's a lot more of this to be done. I also remembered today that one of the major components of this 90 day thing was physical transformation - and it's kind of on hold right now because of the back injury. But i think that's an excuse. My sleep cycle has been fucked - that's the major problem - i feel like I don't have time and I feel like i'm always behind - plus all the emotional release of course. So, this is good. I think I'll read some osho and go to sleep fairly early today. Then, I'll be able to get up and have two proper sadhana sessions from tomorrow and maybe do a nice and proper rehab session in the evening?

By doing my rehab properly - even though it's not "high yield"- feeling or "high impact", i show myself that I value my body's mobility and functionality. I show myself that i learn from my lessons and that I'm committing to a life of physical mastery. Now would be a great moment to remind myself of that socrates thing.

I really enjoyed my call with Runar today - there's always something so life-affirming and joyful about these copywriting sessions we have. I don't know what it is - maybe it allows me to live out this fantasy of an alternate reality where im a creative ad-agency worker or something? i don't know. I just love it though!

I feel behind on things a bit - substack, essays, writing more content deliberately, going through those tabs, building my personal brand, doing outreach for more writing work etc. Not to mention write all that content for ONiO and actually make good on my commitment to make 1500$ by the end of last week lol!

Let's get up in the morning and hit the road running?

What do I want to get done tomorrow?

finish at least 3 articles? or let's say 2 conservatively. As a rule! but aim for 3

make more content for linkedin

extensive rehab

two shambhavis

early pomodoro finish

reading!!!! (just for fun) - to be able to do that with a free mind, I need to finish all the other stuff earlier and fast!!!!

Ok i'll write my affirmations now, read some osho (but chocolate first!) and go to sleep!

[abishekmuses]

Marketing is seduction

Style is a virtue - it's an external indicator of the lens through which you view reality, events and situations. It's the "Frame" that you inhabit - it's an expression of your aesthetic ideals - it shows the world where you find beauty. It shows the world the internal cadence - the tempo that marks the beat of your movements through life. More importantly, it reflects your capacity to appreciate beauty and your commitment towards embodying beauty and the extent to which you are willing to go for beauty.

We are fart-bags that are filled with flesh that's slowly rotting. We emanate odours, burp and one day, we'll die. Before that, depending on how unlucky our lot is, we suffer a bunch of ignominies - injuries, heartbreaks, embarrassments - we shit our pants, we get hard for people that don't want anything to do with us naked - we get jacked up wanting to see people naked - people who themselves will one day get old and need diaper changes or surgeries where their shit comes out through tubes on their abdomens. Why am I painting this grisly picture?

Because none of this stuff is news - we all know this. This is the nature of our physical reality as humans and this truth isn't lost on most of us. However, there is still is extraordinary capacity for style that we possess - This capacity to appreciate beauty - to do things with a sense of aesthetic - to " present" ourselves as works of art rather than as stinking pieces of meat.

Beauty makes life beautiful - duh! Ok let me try another way. Beauty makes life tolerable. Why do any of the things we do if we don't do them beautifully? Every moment, a human has the choice to frame things in such a way - do things in such a manner - that it can be elevated to poetry.

Again, none of these ideas are new. We know how the act of drinking coffee can be an act of ugly compulsion - think lines of irritated, haggard looking people at an airport starbucks waiting to catch an early morning flight - or an exercise in love, style and aesthetic bliss - think of someone who wakes up, works out, showers, does his hair up just right - puts on a clean white tee shirt and crisply ironed chinos - and with meticulous precision, arranges his cup, his spoon, his milk jug, his coffee grinder - and goes about infusing as much love and devotion as possible into making that cup of coffee - pouring his attention into every single step involved - doing it with a sense of care like not getting a microscopic part of the process perfectly right would be the end of the world. That's what i mean by elevating actions - making poetry out of life.

i'm not speaking about OCD though. that's just as unaesthetic as being slapdash as far as Im concerned. Insouciance is attractive. Devotion with insouciance - now that's poetry.

I think seduction is closely tied to this. An expert seducer is someone who values aesthetics - he lives it and breathes it. He might not even necessarily understand it as such. But his movements, his life possess a quality of otherworldliness. a sense of cinematic allure. A sense of art. Something elysian, astral, supernal. A sense of something immortal and infinite. Something that isn't so immutably beset by the banal, the mortal, the rotting and the mundane.

I feel like marketing is very similar to seduction in this sense. marketing is all about framing things - It's about creating something a bit more ethereal around commodities/products/services -which are just banal things.

A product is a commodity. It belongs to the realm of flesh and bones. A brand is something undying - it belongs to the realm of demigods. It is something supernal. Something astral. Something that is nebulous, subtle and powerful.

I'm writing all this just to get down some ideas that I've been working with. This is an attempt to publicly post my process.

I came across the term public journal recently - I guess this is an attempt to have one of those myself.

Paralysed with potential - This is an itneresting idea

Best writers make errors -e diting is key

Excitement is actually a really subtle form of fear - when it doesn't allow us to settle into the present moment - I catch myself these days with a feeling that i would traditionally label as "positive" - a feverish sense of excitement - like hey "I'm pumped!!!" - but upon closer inspection, it's an attempt to move away from the present moment. It's a refusal to accept the intensity of a given moment and relax into it - accept it. It's using the mind to project an imaginary future where the intensity of internal state in this moment is used to create positive fantasies in the future - subtly suggesting to yourself - i'll be happy and fulfilled then" - subtly sowing seeds for waking up the next morning (or whenever) with regrets for not inhabiting that fantasy reality.

[abishekmuses]

Circadian Nightmare

In my childhood, whenever I used to get cranky, irritated or complained about something/ demanded something, my grandma would tell my mum "he's hungry. Give him something to eat".

I'd indignantly protest and throw an even bigger tantrum at being told what my problem was versus the thing I was saying was my problem. Jeez tough kid I must have been to raise.

Likewise, whenever people told me to "go to bed on time" or "eat my meals on time", I'd dismiss this sort of stuff as banal. "I have bigger concerns that these mundane nothings that everyone concerns themselves with, I'd think condescendingly."

Today, I realise just how much of human behaviour, emotional balance and mental health depends on keeping our biological cycles regulated. I had a super regular schedule throughout late february and March. Staying up all night on MSR (8th march) and two days later for the Velliangiri trek messed up my cycle.

I lost my circadian balance, so to speak, and found myself struggling with practically every aspect of my life. My emotions started spilling all over the place - not pretty!

The last few days, I've been patiently trying to work with my damaged routine trying to get it back to where it was - but so far, I'm failing. I've been staying up nights and sleeping till afternoons.

Today, I realised that this is unfortunately how I've lived most of my adult life. No wonder I had such a torrid time of it! Jeez! For all you intellectuals out there who sneer at the idea of being limited by biology - please do deign to orient your circadian rhythms.

I understand this might be maddeningly obvious to most people who aren't as thick as I am but there's got to be someone who is stupid and smart in the same way I was/am - so i thought I'd write this down.

Now I'm curious about this - why do some people struggle so much to maintain well-regulated circadian rhythms? Where does it start? I know the theory about too much electronics etc - but I think that's not it -I had a good thing going; Lost it; And I seem to struggle with getting back into it - why is that? It's not like I suddenly started binging on screen time after those two nights.

What are some hacks to get back into a regulated sleep-wake cycle? As I write this, i'm filled with so much regret - a tragic sense of loss almost - I wish I'd fixed this stuff earlier - like way earlier. It's so sad to find out that the reasons for why your life disappointed you in some of these "big" ways were actually so simple and workaday. Oh well, retrospect is a toxic seductress - won't go there!

Hopefully, my yoga practice will help me get on top of this issue that's been such an unnamed nemesis in my life.

I want to continue thinking about this topic just to drill it into my skull that my grandma was right - I'm probably hungry or under-slept or tired - it's not the socialists that are the problem. it's not ocean pollution. It's not people around me friggin' breathing audibly!

I want to end with a phrase that's cracked me up to no end recently - it's from Jonny Miller of Nervous System Mastery - "Stay regulated out there!"

#sleepcycle #stayregulated #biorhythms #lifelessons

[abishekmuses]

Facing the Music

For years, I've harboured envy, resentment, pride and slothfulness. I'm not a christian or anything - don't know why this is taking that form - but I want to roll with it. I've been having a pretty intense time of it recently - For years, I've felt like I've been stuck. Years. Today, I even thought that maybe I've never really felt well-adjusted throughout my entire adult life - that's a scary thought. I don't know if it's true though - how can I know? I've not been in other people's heads. Anyway, about a month ago I decided to take my writing more seriously - you see, I'd spent most of my life wanting to be a doctor - wanting's the key word here - I just wanted it. Wanted it - said I wanted it anyway and thought I wanted it. I realised that I'm not in control of my life and was getting swept away with events and the changes in mood/perspective that they brought about only to find myself in pretty much the same place again after months or maybe even years. There was this sense of "now or never" - I felt like like if I didn't do something radical, I'd keep getting sidetracked by the crosswinds of life - so I decided to go on a 3 month period of silence. I'd still play badminton and to make sure it didn't get unnecessarily weird, I'd speak minimally to my mates there. Likewise on the odd occasion that i'd need to buy something, I'd speak sparingly. (although the idea was to keep this to a bare minimum) And, I'd still speak to my boss. (which is not often anyway)

I was also going off social media (which at this point was just whatsapp and telegram) and youtube. No music either. I also switched off my phone.

I'd been on a "high" wave of sorts - the past few months had felt pretty "flow-y" - There was this sense of positivity in me that was reasonably stable and it felt like this was the right time to do something like this. In the beginning it was all hunky dory - I felt good about myself and got into this "everything's gonna be so great" kind of a mindset that I tend to get into - a high-energy, high-optimism and high-creativity. (I have been thinking if I'm actually bipolar; Not a fun thought)

I had a lot of time; I had a lot of clarity and energy; Good stuff flowing - great all through! Gradually, the fears and icky emotions started to surface.

"Hey! I'm equipped for this stuff now - I've done a bunch of sadhana - plus I know that doing these kinds of things hasten the processing of negative emotions - this is totally par for the course - let's just keep going towards these emotions and just let them go! That'll do the trick!" I felt good about my odds against these dastardly old nemeses of mine. I even wrote a post on this selfsame blog about how much of a game changer this "letting go" thing was. Just sitting with emotions and watching them leave. Managed to finish reading the book "letting go" by David R Hawkins btw. Great read. A book straight out of the heart - and a heart full of love and compassion at that. Highly recommend.

Anyway, been letting out a lot of emotions - been crying practically every single day. But today was something else. It was the motherlode - fear, insecurity, guilt, heartbreak, anxiety, shame - all the negative emotions you can think of - rolled up into one ginormous feeling of pressure and "oh fuck the walls are closing in on me".

At some point, I remembered Richard Rudd's words from the Gene Keys (another book I highly recommend having at home and reading every now and then when the inspiration strikes; It's a prophetic piece of writing and the book has an almost oracle like quality to it) saying that one just has to accept and feel one's fear - that's all it takes.

But it was pretty non-stop. The onslaught of panic and fear just wouldn't abate - I was worried about losing my job; I was worried about ending up broke; all sorts of stuff. But somehow I was able to remind myself that what I was actually afraid of was continuing to feel the way i was feeling in that moment.

The suffocating emotional pressure was the problem - not some hypothetical scenario where i'd lose my job and be broke. I realised that a situation where my inner state wasn't one of stress/fear and I lose my job, wouldn't be such a bad situation after all - I guess what i'm trying to say is i remembered something crucial through that intense negative state - that the real problem is just the state itself. The fears about a certain situation coming to pass in life is just a projection of that internal state.

To make matters worse, I'd woken up thinking about my ex today. I felt a lot of old memories coming up - of me cheating on her - me being a reckless addict in general who caused a lot of damage with his inability to control his impulses; Guilt emerged. Sadness emerged; Desperation ensued. She was on my mind a lot today and I guess that's why I googled her name - Found her website, IG etc - saw that she was upto a lot of cool stuff with her life - she'd been writing (incredibly well) and seemed to have started some kind of service where she was helping people release their inner pain and find lightness. My instant response was one of constriction - A lot of fear, anxiety, insecurity and inadequacy came up. Old patterns of such feelings were recognised. I went for a walk and kind of reckoned with myself for a bit - "hey this is not who you are - are you really upset that she's doing well?" the answer came back that I'm not but I did feel terrified about my own prospects. Felt this feeling a lot of us are familiar with which goes along the lines of "why am I such a fuck up? Why did I waste so much of my life? yada yada" Now you see why I'd mentioned earlier about wanting to do more with writing - now that I saw my ex writing and doing so well with it - I was like "fuck I'm late even to this and I'm not sure i'm even at this level yet - blah blah blah - self-defeating rhetoric. Classic insecurity and fear.

At some point while I was swimming in stress and anxiety, I stumbled on one of her blog posts where I found that her best friend, Julia, a girl that I'd spent quite some time with (she's about my age) had just died! That piece of news was a real shocker and did quite the number on me! I bawled my eyes out and just couldn't hold it.

I was like "to heck with the silence - I'm gonna go tell my parents that I love them and hug them - which I did; I didn't want to go through my period of silence out of some misplaced sense of pride/propriety only to face that feeling of "oh fuck I never got to tell them how i felt!"

I hugged them, cried to them and wrote some stuff to them. For what it's worth, the verbal silence is still intact. Kept crying non-stop. At some point, after hugging my parents and soaking in their love, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for life - that I was even alive. Some of the things I was worried about even hours ago felt churlish. To think that I was thinking things like "fuck I'm 30! Is it too late to pursue my dream of becoming a doctor?" - Man that chick I smoked weed with is dead now! fucking dead!

That really knocked some perspective into me. Even being broke isn't nearly the same ballpark of a problem as being dead. Fuck. That news really knocked the wind out of my sails for a bit. But it also showed me that I was holding back a lot with unnecessary worrying. I felt an inner loosening - a relaxation - a coming back to life.

I got on my motorcycle and went for a ride through my town. I fell in love with everything my eyes saw. I felt reborn.

Let's see where we go! But for now, I love you all and I love this beautiful world we live in for all its fuck ups and dramas and heartaches - I love being alive!

[abishekmuses]

Sorting It Out Inside

Ok so you want to write online and use it to become rich - of all the people online (millions probably), why do you think you need to do this? what I'm asking is - why does the world need one more guy writing stuff on the internet? I think I have a unique viewpoint - my experiences, background put me in a unique perspective. Hmm what do I mean by that? I guess the sheer contrasts that my life embodies - I've always been identified as smart - and yet I've made life choices that are run-of-the-mill, classic idiot-choices. I was born in a lower middle class household in South India and through a series of scarcely believable life events, I made friends all over the world, speak with a clipped accent and now, work for a Norwegian company. I make more money than most people in my country dream of making and yet for most of the last 3-4 years, my experience has largely been that of low grade anxiety, fear about my future, hedonism, fatigue, drug-use, escapism, bouts of mania followed by shame and self-doubt - well you get it. I'm being a little too harsh on myself - there were moments of bliss, joy, satisfaction, adventure, learning etc as well but that only serves to emphasise the point I'm trying to make about the contrasts.

I am particularly prone, as an individual, to delusion, distraction, solipsism, dissociation and fantasy. I have a mind that is extremely suggestible, albeit quick and flexible - I suffer from a lack of context and perspective. Recently, thanks in no small part due to my commitment to yoga and my decision to stop trying to have my way with life (in this kind of forceful, anxiety provoking manner), I have found some space within myself - a space that helps me notice my behaviour patterns, emotional triggers, violent biochemical responses etc without being taken in by them .

This has allowed to me to institute a modicum of sanity in my life - it is precisely that modicum of sanity that is even allowing me to perform this very exercise of self-indulgent pontification - I would have probably been staring at a youtube video otherwise.

Back to the contrasts,

I used to be a devout Hindu growing up. Gave it up because it wasn't fashionable enough - became a reductionist, hardcore atheist. Tripped on a bunch of drugs that blew my whole model of reality to smithereens and was left having to pick up the stray pieces of my psyche for years - discovering "spirituality" and yoga in the process. For the lack of simple terms to describe it, let's say my models of reality are a LOT more fluid now than they used to be. I pray but I don't know to whom. I bow down in reverence and awe on practically a daily basis. I shed tears of gratitude very often and do yoga sadhana practically every day. Again, just saying this to highlight the abundance of perspectives I've inhabited and the contrasts that I've been able to experience and live out. I am often called "confident" and "courageous" - not entirely untrue assessments either - I can talk to strangers with absolute ease and have no problems but I also know it to be true that I'm a very fearful, self-doubting, anxious, people pleasing, attention seeking person. Another contrast that I'm making more sense of as I go along. I have experienced profoundly rapturous states that, by themselves, justify the enterprise of living on earth. I have experienced desolation that felt permanent and immutable. I am familiar with the ways of Ancient India (not as dry philosophy; as a living tradition with continuity and soul) and have partied with the best of them in Europe. I've had foursomes and I've slept with beautiful women. I've made desperate and ungainly attempts at sexual gratification resulting in embarrassing rejections and soul crushing vortices of self-hate and shame. I've imposed myself on girls sexually and doubted my attractiveness a million times.

I've inspired people, repulsed people, supported people, destroyed people's emotional equanimity, taught people, learned from people, betrayed people, cried for people, cried over people, cried with people, laughed and danced and sang on the streets, done drugs with strangers and sang hymns from the Vedas.

I think I can write on the internet and make myself a good living while offering something of value to those struggling with the same ills that I did (and probably still do).

The world is evolving rapidly and we are being confronted with some pretty new problems - kids apparently are losing their shit mentally - and it's because of too much phone-time and not enough social interaction, apparently.

I want to use my experience to be a voice of comfort, guidance and awakening, if I can. If i'm being presumptuous in this assessment, reality will duly give me a check in the near future.

Ok I think I'll go to sleep now.

[abishekmuses]

THE SAD IRONY OF “WHAT WILL PEOPLE THINK”

Everyone’s been subject to this fear – many of us still are. It’s so pervasive that many of us have come to take it for granted – that this is just something you’ll have to base your life on – the fear of other people’s opinions of us.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I don’t understand where it comes from – I do. After all, we need each other for survival. It seems like this is a mechanism to ensure that we don’t stray too far away from what’s good for the collective or the tribe.

Maybe it’s an inbuilt mechanism to avoid ostracism which for most of human history meant death. But that’s historical. What about today?

Survival is organised really well today. Granted not for everyone – there are still hundreds of millions (if not more) of people out there facing unimaginable adversity, on a daily basis, just to ensure basic survival. But, what’s being addressed here is the plight of the vast majority of us who don’t have to worry about finding nourishment – a lot of us are still burdened, miserable and insufferably morose.

This has become such a widespread reality that we have almost come to equate it with normalcy – like “man that’s how life is; get used to it!”

There’s this temptation to put this down to the pitfalls of modern life – but i doubt that self-consciousness and social fears are something that just came about as a result of sedentary lifestyles or a post-industrial world.

There seems to be something more fundamental at play here – the inhibition that comes with the fear of social rejection is not something that exists by itself – it is a manifestation of fear – a much more overarching and encompassing fear.

This is a fear of death – but more interestingly, this is a fear of life itself. Life is uncertain, seamless and perhaps most importantly, finite – at least, in the physical sense. The body, no matter how well it’s taken care of, eventually dies.

We’re all deeply afraid, it would seem, of truly confronting and embracing this fact. Our minds seem to have this magical ability to forget mortality and death and the drop of a hat.

To accept life is to accept death – it’s difficult make no mistake – but from my own experience, there is no life without it. There is no fire to life – no urgency – no passion – unless the finality of death is accounted for.

When this understanding is courted and embraced, we throw caution to the find and a sense of abandon finds us – we throw ourselves headfirst into life wanting to splash about in it’s joys and mysteries with the least concern for anything or anyone.

So, what stops us from burning with life? I don’t have the answers – I’m just trying to piece together a somewhat coherent picture for myself from all the apparently incoherent dramas i’ve been through myself.

It seems to be a fear of the future – a fear of rejection. A fear of death. A fear of discomfort. But more than anything else, it seems to be a lack of energy. A distinct lack of “flow” – of vitality.

There’s also habit patterns that keep us locked in our heads reinforcing emotions and states of powerlessness, despair, anguish and boredom.

To throw the shackles of automated living off and embrace the frightening, frenzied excitement that comes with embracing life as a naked being stripped of misconceptions and illusory images of security is not comfortable. It’s a lot of things – vivifying, invigorating, energising, rapturous – but it’s not comfortable. It requires the relinquishing of stuporous inertia – a coming out of the comforting but death-inducing trap of habitual tendencies.

And that’s difficult for people because – well we’re going through life sedated; half-asleep. We’re sleepwalking through existence wondering if some day we’ll magically feel more alive and ecstatic – because I think essentially, that’s what we’re all seeking – to be as alive as we can – and just burn with life! burn with fury and have the limited time that we have in this mysterious and ineffable thing called life be indescribably ecstatic and rapturously thrilling!

Like I said earlier, I don’t have the answers – but I do know this – life’s passing us by and we’re choosing to sleep to our graves rather than dance our way there with our dicks hard and chests pumped!

What’s the point man? What’s the damn point of living life if it isn’t even lived properly. Why go searching for the meaning of life – when the life in question is a miserable and painfully arduous one – why bother finding the meaning of such a life? why bother coming up with or associating with philosophies, political theories and ossified intellectual positions.

When we throw caution to the wind and stare death in the face and empty out our bag of fucks till there’s no fucks left – then the rapture of life seizes us by the throat and fills us with an ecstasy that’s indescribable – Those of you that have done MDMA or fallen head over heels in love – it’s something similar – but indescribable nonetheless – it’s orders of magnitude more profound and insanely more satisfying.

I speak about this because I’ve experienced this a number of times. Fuck knows why. Maybe because I’ve spent the vast majority of my life outside the monday to friday, 9-5 grind – I never made it to most of my classes at uni and then found a job where I can spend early hours of my day writing blog posts about nebulous stuff; Maybe it’s because I had a horrible time in my 20s and woke up every day with crippling anxiety and a feeling of dense, all-consuming dread and at one point, I just found it easy to stop taking life so damn seriously – I don’t know; Maybe it’s because I’ve been, for whatever reason, able to throw caution to the wind and laugh at the face of death.

Here’s the thing though – I don’t want to be misconstrued as saying that i’ve figured out some magic trick to answer all of life’s questions – I have not. In spite of experiencing the aforementioned states of ecstasy, endless possibility and full-force vitality, I have yet to transcend my own propensity for fear, slothfulness and social rejection. I have found it possible to break free from these chains every now and then, unlocking periods of immensely liberating freedom and bliss, but i’ve not been able to sustain these states.

It’s a work in progress.

There’s strong neuro-physiological conditioning that needs to be undone. But nevertheless, my whole experience of living on this planet has been immeasurably enriched by these experiences I’ve had of Baccheiatic, Dionysian ecstasy and frenzied abandon.

In those states, I couldn’t care less what people thought of me. I would tell people exactly what I wanted, how I wanted. I would stand, sit , walk and do what i wanted. And funnily enough, that’s when I’d feel this sense of respect and attraction from people that we all seek a lot of the time – not that you crave it in that state – but it’s still an interesting observation.

But here’s the thing – it’s not that those states are altogether transient and have no impact on you long term – they do leave you changed – when you’ve experienced these states a number of times – then, you DO stop giving a shit about some stuff that you used to – you just can’t bring yourself to live up to and care about those social norms that are particularly stupid and utterly meaningless.

Ok I’m done.

#approval #conformity #life #ecstasy #freedom #notgivingafuck #authenticlife #rawpower

[abishekmuses]

240 Day Challenge - Super-Brain Yoga, Writing and Core Workouts

In my previous post, I'd spoken about how I'm a big believer in the daily streak - doing something every day, without fail - building a chain - forming a habit - and then using that momentum to drive lasting change. This is something that I picked up from the hugely popular book, Atomic Habits, by James Clear. I decided to take up this whole idea of doing something for a seemingly trivial amount of time - but every single day - mostly because, I was a recovering addict and overall lazy, waste-man kind of guy who simply lacked the perseverance or mental focus to do anything intense to see results over a short period of time.

The lazy prick that I was, I found the idea that I could get ripped by just showing up at the gym every day and staying there for 5 minutes every day, extremely compelling.

Funnily enough, I started with exercising when I first decided to experiment with the streak thing - however, close to three years since I first started experimenting with microhabits, I still haven't really had a major streak with working out.

I've had a few minor ones - but nothing that lasted more than couple of months. In November I decided to do a 6 month streak of Angamardana but skipped some 3 or 4 days in between in the 3rd month. Then, I injured my back playing badminton and had to skip the better part of 2 weeks. I'm back on Angamardana though and intend to keep it up for 6 more months to make good on the promise. Anyway, like i said earlier, I've been having a difficult time stitching together a nice streak when it comes to exercise - something that I've really intended to work into my life in a big way; My fitness is not something I'm proud of and I've been intent on setting it right for quite a number of years now, albeit unsuccessfully.

Two days ago, almost on a whim, I decided to write a couple of posts on the internet. That gave me an idea - why not write everyday? - use the streak hack to get good at writing. After all, the same principle should hold true right? If I do it everyday and keep doing it no matter what, I should be much better at it after a while - no matter how unlikely it seems. So, I decided to do it! But I was feeling so pumped that day that just writing wasn't enough - I needed to add more stuff.

I pulled out an A4 sheet and made rows and columns. The idea was to colour the boxes green for everyday that I kept the streak alive. The conditions for success that I set up in my manic state were - 1. 1 cycle of Angamardana 2. At least 21 Thoppukaranams (Super Brain Yoga) - for those who don't know, this is a hindu exercise, often performed to the deity Ganesha as a sort of gesture of repentance or apology- i find it funny that it's called super brain yoga actually - apparently, it boosts brain power and increases communication between the brain hemispheres. Here's what it looks like

3. Write at least 750 words of my own or 500 words for work - 4. Work out my core by doing a 1 min plank or a 15 min core workout. These were the conditions I had to fulfill to colour my box in green. Once I was done creating the chart, I did an approximate count of the boxes and it was around 240 - so 240 it was! The idea is to keep up these daily activities for 240 days no matter what. I'm on day 3 and with this post, I've finished all my assigned tasks for the day. I'm going to colour my box green now. This is what my chart looks like by the way.

#STREAK