LETTERS FROM A DESTITUTE YOUTH (#1)

There’s a lot going on in this post, but I’ll try to be brief and expand on each bit more in the future. Much has happened in the last few years. I’ve been so many things. College student. Retail worker. Husband. Divorcee. Suicidal, alcoholic nut job with nothing but apathy. Author. Poet. Known as some other author or poet. Homeless. Obsessed bookworm, reading 2200+ books in a year or so. At some points (specifically the hungry ones), it was the most miserable time of my life. If I had to talk about it now though, I’d say the more misery I obtained the happier I got.

The difference all based on an incredible shift in perspective.

Studying so many subjects has forever altered the way I look at the world. I can see how everything to come out of humanity is often trying to say the same things it always has. Through science and physics I was able to prove to my more rationally stubborn mind the interconnectivity of everything. Psychology and neuroscience taught me how to reframe my thoughts at any given moment to avoid slipping back into a depression, or suffering. A few hundred philosophy books tied it all together for me to begin thinking and living life in a manner that does not ignore the minor existential internal/external details that add up to catastrophes globally.

Every confliction of information I had in the sea of information in my head became resolved, even when it comes to things like religions (trace them through history, learn about their original writers, changes in language over time, and how they have been used by societal systems of hierarchies to further narrow agendas – you’ll see them for their symbolism to explain the same open-minded philosophies every other abstraction to ever come out of humanity has tried to purvey). The greatest thing to bring change was analyzing those around me, which at times was out of pure judgment – but with education, analyzing others was a better way to analyze myself and soon judgment wasn’t even a part of it. These years examining habits mixed with my education carried profound realizations.

Almost everything we do or say is simply us trying to get back to ourselves.

Every cigarette an excuse for social interaction or to pace around in thought, a space filler in time because we learn to focus only on external things, and a connection to the death that releases us back into the original universe without this feeling of disconnection from it while living in this form. Most mildly psychedelic drugs like marijuana are better to ingest than any other chemical because of how safe they are, but all the chemicals do is put us in touch with our own internal consciousness and make us see how silly our systems created from thoughts are. Just by keeping in touch with the consciousness afterward and realizing the silliness of everything, it’s easy to emulate the feeling in any moment without a substance. The need for alcohol is a product of societal pressures and restrictions. We need the excuse to not appear smart constantly.  Meaning what people really want is honesty, less pressure by others to avoid intimacy, and a lack of judgment. The lack of intimacy in modern cultures creates the sex culture of parties revolving around alcohol. When I say intimacy, I am not referring to sex. I am referring to a feeling of closeness with those around us without feeling judged or put on pedestals of hierarchies, a steady accumulation of moments we feel at one in happiness with others. The sex obtained in such situations barely touches at this feeling and in a way, furthers illusions based on projections from inside ourselves onto others.

For a long time, something would remind me how long I’ve been single or lonely in general, and in a way it would send me spiraling into a world of fantasies about lives with women. I pictured someone as coming along to be my source of happiness or sometimes in moments of desperation, a savior. This was a failure in my perspective I couldn’t see because my line of thinking was relationships were natural (which is true), so the possessive thinking I carried went with the idea without question. The mistake was placing all my happiness and positive characteristics into someone else, as if they cannot exist inside me without them. Further analysis took place in all this time alone to realize how inhuman the beginnings of our human relations really are. It’s like we base them on external things like styles, directions in life or education, taste in music, the places we go, and outlooks on life when in reality these are often transient things typical to change in time (especially while young). The only way to truly love someone is to love them at the core, which is simply being another human. The only way for a relationship to work out with so much external things being transient is to be completely open to any possible changes to be brought onto your life by those around.

There was also a severe case of self-loathing to dismantle in my case based on this idea of relationships. I wouldn’t even say it began to absolve until the last couple of weeks in putting an extreme focus on it. I associated the reason why no one was jumping up to date me with things mean people have said about me in the past, both physical or mental. I mean, I do have to admit if I’d spent the last years of my life working on my body instead of my mind, women would probably be more attracted to me. If I had spent less time focusing on creating art, thinking of a way to contribute positive change to the world, and instead was working my way up a corporate ladder or obtaining a business degree – I imagine I would look better to someone in a hierarchy and resource-based sense. When I aligned my thoughts and meditated on all this for a long time, I realized how ridiculous this was to feel because obviously such a person would be so focused on superficially external things it could never work out anyway!

All of this in mind, being focused on a moment at hand seems to supply me with all the feelings of intimacy and happiness I need – in turn making me a more whole person capable of having something real to offer to a relationship, while at the same time being completely fulfilled in being alone and not feeling the need to force one into existence. There’s clarity to my thoughts never present before and the way to restore myself to it is simpler than I would have believed. Clear motivation is the cure for anxiety, for instance. All I have to do make sure my intentions are based on love. The cure for any self-hatred is to go back to that deconstruction process to realize it’s impossible because it’s a pointless abstraction based on a false projection created to pretend I am not all I need. Anger and hatred directed at external things is cured by developing tolerance and patience, which I have been lucky to grow through practice and education. Anything else would be as Nietzsche would say, “Muddying the waters to seem deep.”

I have this map if lost, but clearing my head usually reminds me of my more wholesome existence.

This is not a suggestion for you to go through the motions of any of this, only a statement that it is working for me and an example as to why I can’t go back to the normal life of society. The second part is based on being unable to make the knowledge of what all my actions effects unknown again. The apathy and ignorance once instilled in me has been replaced with a knowing compassion, one that knows in examination the simplest, most humble life is best for the entire planet. The only thing I can fathom spending money on in my daily life anymore is food when all my internal needs are met without vices, but it is nearly impossible to starve to death being a citizen in America. Personally, I don’t even care to have a home anymore after how many I’ve gone through in the last decade and true freedom is looking at the world as home. It’s things like taxes, which are inevitable if you participate in the monopoly game of society, that get to me. How no matter what a portion of them (even if not always planned) either becomes or supports a bullet for the innocent. I cannot see how any of the cyclic, addiction-based actions of my ordinary life are worth murder. These are fragments of war, a war of everyday life and I refuse to add to the madness anymore.

I would live at home with parents or something, living a simple life that fosters compassion for all things, but I don’t have such an option. I’ve mostly lived with friends in the last few years, but people with the perspective of self-improvement only being an external or monetary-based task often lose understanding of the lifestyle fairly quickly. Yet, I’ve managed to live on less than $2k in the last three years. So come January-Februaryish of this upcoming new year, I choose to live on the streets! Of course, it’s a little more planned than just that and I have a list of communes to check out around the country, gatherings, festivals, monasteries, as well as possible spots from Worldwide Opportunities On Organic Farms. If you’ve seen me yak about stuff elsewhere online, you know I’ll be doing a Kickstarter project for equipment to share the experience in film, but this is what will be happening in my life either way. I don’t feel entitled to anything and honestly – regardless of how all the work I put into devising this lifestyle I want to undertake as a journalism project pans out – it’ll be exciting to be out in the world with such adventurous freedom. I’m going to sell off what little stuff I have and just be.

Because every moment is one I can take a perspective to be happy in.

I’m going to try to keep people updated in this new series for the Imperial Youth Review blog. If interested in my upcoming project, be on the watch for my exclusive interview at Literary Orphans. I go into further detail of each angle involved in the documentaries I want to create and the changes in my thinking. I hope if you couldn’t get anything out of any of this, you at least enjoyed reading it. In the next I will go over preparations for the lifestyle and interesting experiences to take place along the way in days to come.

Until next time.

-L.

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