doodoo

Having one of those days where I'm feeling fed up with information. We are all so full of absolute shit. Unverifiable, unreliable, unnecessary shit.

How much of my day is spent ignoring myself and putting all of my attention on the words of others, many of whom must be either dumb or inflated to have the kind of confidence necessary to spread their beliefs into the mainstream arena as truth?

Almost anyone who thinks they know anything these days without feeling enough reasonable doubt to question whether it's really worth sharing to the masses is either dishonest or hasn't thought things through. Ironically these are the people who are able to speak with the most conviction and confidence. Before even properly experimenting for themselves, which takes a long time to do properly, they cite the words of others and jump to share their new beliefs with the world. And dummies like me give them the undeserved validation that comes from attention and soak it all in while looking for answers.

One day I'm going to look upon this blog as another glorious pile of dung and be thankful that I moved on from it. The processing through of so much nonsense. Baggage really, a head full of too much superfluous data that needs to be processed and released. It's excrement. Almost everything that comes out of the human mouth is shit. Day after day, shit pouring out of both ends! Behold, the splendor of man...

I'd like to start listening to myself more. Really listening. It's so hard to disengage from consumption. I'm struggling to regain the capacity to be really attuned to my instincts. I'm so used to looking outside of myself for guidance. I guess most of us are like that to some degree, which is why we're so easily led astray. Tossed about on a raging sea of information and opinions.

The only one who can tell me what's right for me on a moment to moment basis is me, and I can only hear myself if there's enough room for me to discern the signals coming from my body and feelings. If I'm not distracted. I can't hear these signals if I'm constantly ingesting and digesting the thoughts of others. All I'm really accomplishing in doing so is building up a massive framework of data in my head that separates me more and more from true intimacy with reality, and the existential fact of its insoluble mysteriousness. Aside from being itself, I can't confirm a thing.

Nothing can prepare me for life. I just have to live. Nothing can make me more or less worthy of life. I just have to be as I am. No teaching is superior to my own intuitive responses to the unfolding moment. I just have to listen and respond. Nothing I can learn from someone else is of more value than what I can learn from my own experiences. I just have to be willing to have them.

Words are excrement. Everything I hear from others and say here is shit. Life just has to be lived, that's all there really is to it.

I'll keep writing, because I'm still full of shit. Maybe one day I'll finally be ready to flush, get off the toilet and live.