Zip-Zap

Zip-Zap, this here, there that, what doesn’t rhyme with hat, even though the spellings do match, complex language, so to a simple rhyme I latch, I know not of poetry and prose yet some day I hope to turn pro.

I am all over the place right now. Weeeee. It sounds whimsical, but if I do not maintain trivialty my mind races into doom. Like a child, I must keep it occupied lest it start trouble and set fire. This time, I will not ask it to calm down. Go play kiddo. No need to meditate or write about your feelings. No need to do your chores which are now awfully bore.

Where to go? Everywhere. If the other side of this answers it with nowhere. Well, I like him too. He is calm and peaceful. I know he worries I might say or do things that hurt me later. So I hope to find a safe space. Where to put this energy?

Ugh. I wish I could lucid dream. I lack the tools and motivation to do much here. Don’t get me wrong, I still lend my energy to tasks. I still do my one hour of music, of reading, half an hour of writing. I still wake up at 4 and journal. I still do my routine and go for a walk. Poor Karan, he tries to give me things to keep me occupied and tired. He runs out. For when I do come out all tasks are done. Now what?

Perhaps the goal is to tire him out. Giving tasks is difficult after all. Sometimes I get disappointed. I am learning to deal with setbacks. Sometimes I wonder if I am even needed, I feel invisible. Where are my people?
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

No hunger, no thirst. Is there thirst? Ok little bit thirst. Bad posture. Is it truly bad posture or the thoughts of it that cause pain?

What would I do if this was a dream? Wow, I cannot even imagine. What if this is the dream?

Lucidity

The signs in my world have been telling me to pursue lucid dreaming. I have had this desire to learn how to control my dreams for many years. It springs up now and then. The first time, I pursued it and when I had a lucid dream, I climbed my wall. The excitement woke me up. I felt disappointed in myself.

I am unable to imagine. I cannot visualise. So much stimulation. This is another thing we may have lost. I intend to reclaim it. I considered this query of visualisation two days ago- asking classmates if they can imagine.

Now this pursuit has come back. Youtube recommended to me a video on lucid dreaming. I watch it, and it gives me the answer to many questions- what is a worthy past time, how do I become better with my mind and how do find myself.

Then, a few days ago, I was unable to sleep due to a back ache. My father recommended yog nidra. This is another idea I had always wished to pursue. The first time I experienced it was in karate class- 8th grade. Our sensei walked us through it, and I was amazed by this technique. I intended to pursue it, but could not.

It feels like this was a definition I tried to understand. Like children defining capitalism. Only with time and wisdom can you understand it. Perhaps that is why I could not pursue it. I was not ready. Interestingly this is the only undone task of my past which I did not guilt myself for- like saying ‘If you had pursued your dream of another exchange year’ in my worst of times.

One of the greatest signs was in the Gita. I understand now that what Krishna calls wakeful sleep; what father, yogis and sensei call Yog Nidra; what the internet calls lucid dreaming- they are the same thing. Being awake in his sleep is the mark of the greatest yogi. I had also desired to be the greatest yogi.

Another source, is rather unconventional. I do not know much about Andrew Tate. I know people feel polarized by it. I know he is politically incorrect as a topic. I too see both sides to him. He is one of those strange people I can only hope to understand and not judge. I wish to understand so I can take the best and learn the best ways of him and leave whatever I disagree with. I wish to argue with him to know his character. This seems the only way I can overcome the pressure I feel by society to choose sides blindly. I wish to speak my mind without this conflict. This restriction. Can we all just speak our minds and listen? I will learn to listen.

Back to this. The only thing I recall of Andrew Tate, that I listened to fully, was that he gave a tip, a reminder, to Lucid Dream.

You get a lot more control over your subconscious mind. You get the power to affect your dreams. I have lived an entire life. I have years of memories of living a life in my subconscious while I was asleep. I have all of the memories. But the point is my mind has two lives in it- I have my conscious life and my unconscious life. I have lived both. I remember them the same. I have trained my mind to do this.

Another unrelated link was that for multiple periods in my life I have sought sleep hypnosis. In my phase of addiction, I sought erotic hypnosis to fulfil my cravings. Perhaps this is another reason this art was kept from me, I was pursuing addiction. Now I learn to let go and to overcome my desire. Is this why I have been presented with this pursuit again?

For I see more purpose to it. I see signs telling me this is something worth pursuing. I see reason for my free time in it. I see many questions answered in it- for I have been looking for myself. Where else?

So these are the signs- YouTube, Krishna, Father, Sensei, sleep hypnosis, heck even Andrew Tate and raja yoga. Herein it feels is something worth my time.

---

18/10/23

I have been pursuing this. Today, I understood the possibilities better.

I learned that I can either become lucid and create the world or create the world and become lucid. I wish to learn the former. The line between dreams and reality fades. They say that in dreams, when we realise there is no need to fear, all fear ceases. Is this not true for reality as well? Does the past not suggest that this is all a dream we only need to wake up from. It seems that instead of breaking this dream, we have gone a stage further in by getting involved in digital worlds. If we can create such a world, it is more understandable that we created reality. Only to remember how.

To remember, or to learn. Learn to remember. I believe that if I access the knowledge within I will know everything. Everything is a repetition, we must only see the patterns. For example, if I tell you that a basic plot structure is paradise, paradise lost and paradise regained, you shall see it in everything. It seems I have forgotten the plot structure.

Imagine:

• A door in your dreams, that lead to nightmares. It is like a door to a quest which you choose to take.

• To make a space in my mind, a notepad, which is shared by the dream world and this world, so I can leave messages.

• How wonderful it would be to have a workshop full of helpers ready to serve my needs. In return I only exist and love them as Ram did Hanuman. Let myself be aided by them, for nobody else can help me.

• An Interstellar plot- I visit moments of my past in my dreams and spectate. I relay messages which guide his future. Perhaps I may speak to him, to better understand the decisions which led to my present.

• A snake whom I fear. I face him. We become companions.

• Who will be my first lucid dream mentor. A Dumbledore figure. One who knows.

• Anxiety is now a dreamsign. A dreamsign is now a signal to become more conscious. If dreams and reality are the same, does that not mean in anxiety I need only to heighten my awareness. To do so, how? Is the secret in breathing.

• I wish to improve my memory.

• Masturbation, alcohol, pron and weed are obstacles. I HAVE NO TIME.

“It was good that Stephen realised he was dreaming and could fly,” Shah observed with a bemused tone, “but unfortunate that he didn’t see that since it was a dream, there was no need to escape.”

-Pg. 231, Exploring the World of Lucid Dreaming by Stephen LaBerge.

Anger

29/09/2023

All of it stems from this. It seems to be the source of all my anger and pain. The reason my development was halted. It makes me angry at the world that it let this happen to me. I was only a kid.

For many years I have seen my father regret how alcohol halted his progress. He lost focus. He has since not lost one moment to tell us to never be casual and lose focus. I was angry at that, I felt he does not see how hard I am on myself already. But I see it now. Whether his remarks made me act out so much that I got into this mess or the mess I was already in made me defensive to him: he was right. Losing focus costs lives. It costs you yourself.

How can such a thing be allowed to exist? What are all these adults and smart people doing? How dare anyone claim to be good and caring if they could not save a child? Many years I have seen myself as my oppressor, now for the first time the clouds clear and I see myself as my own victim. I see the world responsible for letting the oppressor in me thrive. Where was good when I needed it? Is everyone this numb?

No. I believe somewhere I learnt that society itself is a victim. The people themselves are suffering. How can I expect them to help? It is as if Neil Armstrong felt angry nobody told him how beautiful the earth looked from the moon. In my world, it seems I am the first. This was my desire, to be the first. A pioneer.

And this beautiful God made me the pioneer in what truly matters, the only thing that matters. Love. Love, as all is suffering. My dream was to help people, and I can only help someone truly when I not only understand their problem but also suffer from it. And he gave me the greatest problem of all to solve, the loss of the self.

This is my uncharted territory. The world could not help me because it did not understand. It could not, it lacks the power to. To be truly understood, there must be for the listener yourself. You must become the listener. Only when you talk to yourself can you win. I intend to solve the problem of becoming you, of removing all barriers between me and you.

My problem is the world. My purpose is to experience it to alleviate its suffering. I have lost my focus just as my father had, perhaps he has also gained it. But I wish to experience him forgiving himself, I wish to see that so I can do so too. Who else do I know, that is closest to my past? Addiction. The troubles it has sprung from.

My father gave me a much better childhood than his. He gave me all I needed to win this task. I believe I inherited a generational curse, and I believe I will break it. I have all that I need, all that I want. I see the destination more clearly. Fate fail me no. This is all I have ever wanted. I wish to be the first man on the moon, so all can come too. It must be made possible, it must be proven. I am a social experiment, and my hypothesis must be proven. It will change the world.

For that I must change. I must listen to myself and bare my past. I do not wish to hide, but I also do not plan to reveal myself. I plan to be discovered, just as myself plans to be discovered. You need faith, openness and love to get to me. Most of all, patience.

I was not born perfect. I regret it. Perhaps I was born perfect, was perfect, but lost that perfection. I regret losing that perfection. What is lost, can be found. Proofs come. Clues come. To the greatest treasure. I will come to it, the stage is set. I dare to hope others too. Let me bring them.

---

03/10/2023

Some dreams become nightmares. I had one. I woke up in anger. It was about exchange. I hated how alone I have felt ever since. This anger and disdain tempts me to become angry, but I do not wish to do so. That would mean becoming like the people who let me down. They were ignorant, and I choose to be better.

I had decided not to go for exchange. All of this would have been avoided. I felt I should not go. Listen to your children, especially when you have the resources to do so. If you do not have the resources, you have an excuse. The child will understand. But if the child feels you could have chosen otherwise but you did not, it will hate you. He should have listened to me. He did, then he came and told me to reconsider. Then my world was lost. I went.

Nobody cared. None of these people who claimed to care cared. AFS failed me. They did not check in on me. They lack what was needed for such a delicate effort- you are sending a 16 year old abroad. They focus on the positives. But that is not all there is. Sometimes you need someone to tell a kid it is okay to be normal, that he need not push all the time, and that exchange may not be for him. I was not okay.

She failed me by being weak and not keeping me close. He failed me by choosing development over me. I am seething with rage, I do not know what to do of this. What can I do? What can you do when everyone feels ignorant, when everyone feels in their own world. I trust nobody to understand me. I put myself in the hands of others once, not again. Yes, you all suck if you cannot protect people. You all suck if you cannot be kind and care. You all especially suck if you choose the stick over kindness, genuinely believing the stick will do more good.

I do not belong here nor there. People who feel me, stop. I will not empathize with you. People who have wronged me, judge me, I will not empathize with you either. I will create a new way, one where there is neither stick nor carrot. There is only kindness. All of us are lazy. It is only laziness which is not kind. To earn money and hoard, to not look around, these are easy tasks. I gave myself such great justifications- but I was a liar.

I need therapy to sort these things out. I need to break the cycle. I am tired of it. Those of you who feel left out, you are alone. That has always been your greatest strength. Perhaps the world tells you being alone is bad, but remember you are not harming anybody. Be alone. Find yourself. Rip yourself away from the jaws of this world. It is not for you. It will tempt you and give you reasons- do not think. Thought will do you more harm. Become active. You must, else you are lost. I cannot reach out to you. I cannot give you anything, I have nothing to offer except this.

I always thought that in the question of leading the horse to the well but not being able to make it drink, the tragedy is at least ask the horse if it wishes to drink before resenting it for not drinking. You have done so much for me? Who asked? You have done it for yourself. There is no selfless act you can do for others. You can only do things for yourself, the person who recognizes this I will declare selfless. For there can only be a self if there is the other. As long as there is the other, there is selfishness. If it is only you, what will you gain? Nothing. You have everything you need. You are without a self, you are selfless.

It angers me how this world has become. How dare leaders and gurus guide you away? How dare the strong not protect the weak? The greater tragedy is when the horse wishes to go another way but is taken to the pool, being told water is good. What if the horse does not like water? Stop trying to do good for other people. Fix yourself, that is enough. That is the worthier goal. I respect more the person who strives to become better for themselves, instead of helping others. They do not need your help.

So screw everybody. Those who harm and those who do good. They are the same people. What I want is someone who has no self, no realisation of their goodness or badness. They exist as a human being. That is all there is.

Grief and anger. I should have stayed with myself. But no, such is the flow of life. You went up and down. I believe everyone has gone through this. I believe this is a problem in our world we have given up on solving. Screw that. Technology is ample, why is there no peace? What more do you want? Why are you hurting yourself in these pursuits? Why are you not letting go of these things that hurt others and yourself? Screw pessimism and screw optimism. This is not optimism, it is the truth. It is my truth that love will win. After years of suppression and reasoning this is my conclusion. Love will win.

I side with it. Anger has no place for me. I will resolve this and understand. I will find a true therapist. One who matches me in kindness and intelligence. I wish to understand this so I can understand others. I will find a way to fight this fight which has been forgotten.

---

28/11/23

I got asked for pictures of my exchange year. It is for a reunion which I am not invited to. This has angered me. I hate AFS. I resent it. I hate that I got convinced to go. I hate that I did not stand my ground. I hate that they sent me but did not look after me. I was a sensitive child, it feels wrong. Everything is wrong. I want to hurt them. But this will not aid me. This matter must be understood and accepted.

They keep asking for photos. The AFS India chapter truly sucks. I do not like it. I hate it. Why do I hate it? Yes, there is reason to dislike, but I hate it. Hatred is powerful, why does it exist?

Perhaps, everything in my life happened because of AFS. Think about it, if you did not go, you would not have dropped out of college. Not have met Durga.

Does the world point to the singularity, the canon event?

Anger will only fog up your eyes. For when you express your anger, you find guilt. No, be assertive. Anger will not tell your story. You must understand what was happening in those days leading to the exchange. There feels much deception and resentment. You do feel others did not have your back.

---

I want to slap the crap out of people who have hurt me.

---

849- 5/3/24

Flashes when you imagine someone kissing you on the cheek right now. I consider the reaction, why anger? It feels so natural that it deserves the most questioning. Why anger when someone kisses you on the cheek? Is it the anger of a child smothered by his mother? I guess, an inability to accept affection is rooted within.

Why accept their affection, it is fickle. It does not know me. It is misdirected? So what if it is, who loses out when one cannot feel love? What a dead man.

Cravings

So many reasons to do it and not do it. I could justify anything. Do I take the tougher way or let loose? Do I gratify or wait?

I have answered that question before, to wait is better. Yet when the opportunity comes, what if I only wait and never go ahead? Herein lies the delusion, that to wait is a sacrifice. To wait is the reward itself for the one who observes. Am I the one who observes? Theoretically yes, many advices point to it.

To observe a craving is like observing an accident. There is a craving to run or to do something about it. But true observation knows that whatever must happen will happen, there is little I can do. The conflict eats me up, do I act or do I resist. The answer is neither. Observing the scene does not mean not doing anything. It means to see everything, including yourself. Seeing yourself help or not help, cry or criticise.

To observe this is difficult. In the greatest storm, you must find the calm to observe the storm. Even yourself being swept up by it. There is little you can do. In fact, if you try to do anything you will be at a disadvantage.

Ugh. Do I do it or not? Yesn’t, nobody said it would be easy. It is easy to give in or to refrain. Both need force. Just stay. Wait for nature to play itself out. What to do then? I don’t know.

Later:

I watched The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Life of Pi.

A heavy heart

My heart feels heavy. I keep getting back to my limits. It feels like this world is a marathon, to be free from it, I must run it. Complete it. I must run it like nobody has ever run it before, because the way I function nobody does.

This sense of individuality has caused such motivation, such joy and industry- it is no wonder that it can cause me so much pain too. I ignore my pain. I do my best to remain clear, to remain positive. Yet sometimes in the process I begin to think the opposite of positive is negative, but it can also be emptiness.

There is only emptiness. There is only a cup. Sometimes it has milk in it, sometimes water. It is painful when I begin to call it a milk-cup. Then when there is water, I have conflict.

My breathing feels heavy. It feels a kind of sadness that immobilises me. I am grateful for this, else I would have mobilised into avoiding this. I cannot run away from you, can I? Even if I may feel running away would be better for you, it is false. You only wish to be heard. So let me sit with you and feel this.

It is pain. My past relationship hurts me. It is not that someone broke my heart. I broke my heart. As I always have. Out of ignorance. Do I wish I knew these lessons before? It is impossible. It is like after discovering fire, man had to get burnt to know fire is hot. How can you learn these things? People tell you, books give you ideas but ultimately, only experience teaches.

I have experienced a lot. It has not been a simple road. The places, people and my outlooks have all changed. This sadness and pain, they feel like the one experienced after a long journey. It hurts even though the eyes have seen so much, the ears have heard so much, the mind has learnt so much, the heart has felt so much. The heart, it feels tired in this moment. It feels alone and heavy.

This is not the first time. Each time, my methods of responding to it have changed. This time, I try something new. Breathe through it. Let the heart speak. Let myself listen. Such a lovely heart.

I feel alone, even though today was the day I interacted with people the most in long. I wish to get familiar with this. I like this. I like anything that clears my mind, and this is not anxiety. This is just heaviness, and it clears my mind.

I cannot remember much of the relationship. It feels like a different person did it. It was someone else who has lived these past few years. I wonder where I lost myself:

Was it when we transferred from Nashik?

Was it when I got put into boarding school?

Was it when I left for Finland?

Was it when I did not pursue United World College, or another exchange year as I had wished?

Was it when I came back?

Was it when I left home?

Was it when I went to the US and dropped out?

Was it when I did not go to Europe?

Was it when I came to Bangalore?

When was it? I know boarding school shattered you, that was the first experience of anxiety. That was the first experience of stress. Why was I put into it? So that I could toughen up? Why do we ask our children to toughen up? When must we deliberately put them under pressure in the fear of them being weak? I came back home. A buffer. Then toward the end of 10th grade, I began to feel once more this anxiety.

I have seldom understood myself. This anxiety was a call I did not know to recognize. Should I have known better? Can I blame those around me if they too did not know what this was? I cannot. At least I do not wish to.

I left for Finland, this was a period of stress. Next months too were novel, but stressful. I became stronger. But before I reached the breaking point my family changed. Another buffer. They were a great help.

Then I came back. No novelty to be a buffer this time. No people who understood me this time. No buffers. I reached the point, where I suspect we think a boy has toughened up. I became strong. And all I wished to do with this strength was abandon the people who thought me weak, myself included. I wished to burn this world down and wreak havoc unto myself. The world told me my entire life that I was special, and I wished to destroy myself. I wished to take away something it thought special. But it did not seem to care. What does one do in such a situation?

How much can a child cry to deaf ears? How much can he survive? The guilt of privilege was strong, but do I not bleed the same? Why should our minds be different? Yes, I was sensitive but look at me now numbed into oblivion. It feels like I am Wall-E. This world of mine has gone into ruin. But I have found a tiny plant. This is my soul. This is me. This is all of my essence. Everything else is trash.

This plant must be protected each moment, because too much of the world is trying to destroy it. Looking at the world, I learnt its ideals at the cost of my own. My innocence, goodness and compassion all feel lost. Yes, I think I lost myself after Finland. I let go of myself. I am sorry for that. None of the if I did not lose it I would not have found it crap. I am sorry. So much of my years I spent apologizing to the world and never myself.

Now, my heart confronts me with the pain I have caused. It confronts me with the fact I abandoned it. All I hope is to earn forgiveness. All I think each day is how can I make my way back to it. I look and look for ways to not fail this time. I will not fail this time. It feels like if I fail this time I will lose myself forever.

What is the right way? How can I learn the lesson that fire is hot in the fastest manner? There seems to be no method. There is nothing to do, except wait for opportunities to come to reclaim myself. Each day I wish to be alert, and not miss a single chance to serve myself like Hanuman for Ram. I envy Hanuman’s love for Ram. I envy it because it is not something that can be learnt, only felt by my heart. I wait. One day, I will catch up. Then I wish to compete with Hanuman in his love, strength and humility.

The heart is heavy and the mind is empty. Not even tears to distract. Sit with my pain. Befriend it. Become comfortable with it, love it even. When else should one be the most loving, if not when confronted with pain? This world is in pain. I wish to pull it out.

The argument of people need to go through pain will no more stand. It is laziness. How arrogant can one be to assume their effort will succeed in alleviating pain? It may not. All that matters is the thought- and when I had myself, this thought is all that I had. To love the world.

And the same world had made me question it until a point I let it go. It was like an alcoholic friend resisting effort not only to a point where I gave up on him, but also became an alcoholic. Beware of logic and reason, they can twist anything. Trust only love. Because that is all that I had.

I read my old poems. All about love. I sneered at them until yesterday. I sneered at them because I took up the world’s values. But yesterday, in a moment where I was lost, it felt like those words were destined. They were simple and plain. They acknowledged the pain of the world but did not give up on it. It was the most sincerest thing I have ever seen. After everything that has happened, I come back to this. Nothing is more important. No achievement, no relationship and no thought. Except that of love and a desire to help the world.

Please open the door. I am sorry. Please let me in once more and never leave.

Why am I blogging

26/06/23

i think I am going crazy. Yeah. i have been having mood swings. one moment i feel peace, that moment was a month ago. i felt i had it figured out, just gotta maintain this. this mindset that all is okay.

then i went home. family has a curious effect of regressing me. i go back to my old ways. where once i was waking up well, always before 7, pushups, nutrition meditation and a great physique (people for the first tome complimented my body heh), now i wale with difficulty. i have constant thoughts. like i ate too much poha at a friends house then felt guilty about what if uncle does not have enough. or that i felt ill so i said i would like to eat at home last minute.

sigh anxiety. i now see it as this looming figure. always with me. a dark cloud. i think i am going crazy. i was screaming and crying a few days ago. parents talking in slightly raised voices raised my heart beat. i felt scared.

i think soooooo much. i hate it, i feel like a loser. i try to be positive but then i tell myself only losers try to be better, winners are already there. Ugh. Whyyyy. Well i am okay.  i breathe through it. funny part is this is vacation. idk how to relax. i am learning. apparently you do nothing. just sit. chill. if you feel like peeing get up to pee. hungry, eat. don’t judge the food. let friends call you, or if you remember someone call them. This last one is tricky.

i wonder if calling them is chasing them. what would we talk about? am i too attached? Shouldn’t i learn to be on my own?  weirdo.

i hate doing bad things. i hate thinking what i am doing is bad, people don’t even think of it often. their priorities are different. i used to seek forgiveness, it was useful. now i wait for it to come. that os useful but then i think too much. go crazy.

even sharing. i do not want to tell something to someone. not like i am hiding it, maybe i am. regardless i give myself shit for not being honest and open. but i don’t wannaaaa.

Soberly drunk

I feel the more comfortable you are with someone, the less smart you get. Take the instance with my best friend:

Stupidity requires no alcohol with him, and one day we had our 2-men party and needed to set up camp in one of the rooms (the really snug one with the TV and cushions. I told him that it would be so cool if we got the dinner table into the room and he agreed. Using our hands as precision instruments we measured the width of the doorway and the width of the table. The table was wider, our brain cells still intact we thought we could just, in the words of Ross Geller, PiVoT.

Brilliance in place, we pick the table. Things fall off, we decide it’d be better to empty the table beforehand. Yes, now brilliance is in place, we pick the table, tilt it 90 degrees to the side (see illustration attached) and carry it. We are about to pivot, but there’s something blocking the way. I tell him to hang on and check:

There was already a table in the room.