Vanir Thunder Dojo Tan

It is not a choice; this must be

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64 of them.

All in their place. all existing as they must.

So too are there so many various experiences, states of thinking, seeing, believing, knowing/gnowing, and acting. all of which must exist and take place.


So then we perceive conflict, arising from a component doing exactly as it must, misplaced. an ordinary action, one of the 64, just as it is supposed to be and look and act, placed in the wrong order.

So then.

Conflict arising in our perceptions, we further disorganize the 64 in attempt to "do" something "about" the conflict, instead of letting it run its course.


Thus, it is incorrect to act on any externally perceived situation as requiring ones [inter]action.

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my personal dissatisfaction and disgust in my own behavior, thinking, acting, and believing...

I have to believe it needs to exist, otherwise i sohuld commit suicide; not as a threat or to rouse the rabble as it were however.

A serious consideration is taking place today.

GOd how i hate days like these.
Inevitable, they are.

If i could stop them from happening, would it cause such a terrible imbalance?
Is it really too much to ask?

In spite of my realizing the words i type, i am in conflict with myself, perpetually night and day, sun, moon, earth, and sky.

Cannot find stability cannot force stability cannot remain inactive in faith that stability will be found... continually fucking my life up by trying to fix it. no faith that i can fix it by not fixing it, no longer faith that it can ever be fixed...

Couldn't hurt to just go psychotic and let all loose could it?


After all, i am just misplaced.

Edited by Northern Avid Judo Ant

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Here, Atom Ant, use this cying towel I used this morning. I didn't soil it too much.

 

I hear you. That's about all I can say.

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"‘Here, suck this,’ said Roosta, offering Zaphod his towel.
Zaphod stared at him as if he expected a cuckoo to leap out of his forehead on a small spring.
‘It’s soaked in nutrients,’ explained Roosta.
‘What are you, a messy eater or something?’ said Zaphod.
‘The yellow stripes are high in protein, the green ones have vitamin B and C complexes, the little pink flowers contain wheatgerm extract.’
Zaphod took it and looked at it in amazement.
‘What are the brown stains?’ he asked.
‘Bar-B-Q sauce,’ said Roosta. ‘For when I get sick of wheatgerm.’
Zaphod sniffed it doubtfully. Even more doubtfully, he sucked a corner. He spat it out again.
‘Ugh,’ he stated.
‘Yes,’ said Roosta, ‘when I’ve had to suck that end I usually have to suck the other end a bit too.’
‘Why,’ asked Zaphod suspiciously, ‘what’s in that?’
‘Anti-depressants,’ said Roosta.
‘I’ve gone right off this towel, you know,’ said Zaphod, handing it back."

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oh no, the feeling may come and go, become strong or weaken... it is its own "thing" in the whole. but the will power is indomitable and the feeling and thought and idea of suicide has no power over me except to feel that thought/feeling/idea from time to time on varying frequencies and volumes.


Some days are high mountains, some days are low valleys, and other days are an ocean of high and low waves.

I have a pretty sturdy vessel for all terrain :D

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Mr North, may I suggest you get out a little more? I'm not trying to be funny. I'm also practicing what I suggest.

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For those unfamiliar .......

wikipedia quote

... a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: nonhitchhiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, washcloth, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet-weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitchhiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitchhiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

 

The brown stains significance should be inferred.

:)

Edited by Stosh

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Cannot find stability cannot force stability cannot remain inactive in faith that stability will be found... continually fucking my life up by trying to fix it. no faith that i can fix it by not fixing it, no longer faith that it can ever be fixed...

You're far from being the only person feeling like that. Seems to be a spiritual crisis. And I don't think that nice words, well-meant advice or approaches that focus on the problem can fix it. Words are cheap. Compassionate action is not. Thus there is scarcity of the latter.

Even people who preach that helping others will help yourself might struggle with fears that they might exhaust themselves helping others, which looks to me like a reality-based lack of faith.

This is all I will say about it. More would be foolish.

 

...

 

P.S.:

 

Choose a side!

Edited by Owledge

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