We Organize Our World By First Organizing Ourselves
Apr 3, 2020 14:18:02 GMT -5
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Post by Alek Shades on Apr 3, 2020 14:18:02 GMT -5
Alek Shades is sat cross legged on top of his second hand sleeping bag inside his tent in downtown LA. Both of his hands are feverishly constructing meticulously chaotic mandalas in a kaleidoscope of color. His ambidexterity is a natural skill which made it possible to turn himself into his own canvas. Sheets of paper with psychedelic designs litter his humble homeless hut. Lint-like lining leaks from his sleeping bag and clusters like a furball at the foot. Packets which once contained questionable substances are loosely stacked in one corner by the entry flap.
As Alek’s colored pencils fly through various uncontrolled motions, as the colors coalesce into concrete patterns, the switch which has lain dormant in his mind finally clicks on. He freezes in place at the precise moment another pair of symbolic circular Sanskrit creations are completed. Behold, the maps to his redemption.
How could I have been such a fool, he ponders internally. After all the studying I’ve done on the great minds of our time, those simultaneously blessed and cursed with insight into that which extends beyond the realm of our world, how dare I become susceptible to the mistakes of the uninitiated? Alek lays his pencils on the papers offset from his creations. He looks deeply into the organized ugliness of chaos which creates their beautiful syncretic exemplification of order.
When the great Carl Jung flirted with psychosis, he found solace in these manifestations of his original inner peace. He channeled his longing for a return to normalcy, an escape from the madness. I now realize the difference between his situation and mine. The issues afflicting me are entirely the result of my own lack of control. Alek looks around and observes the madness of his living quarters, haphazardly staked into the soft ground.
If I want to change the world, I have to start with myself. If I want to change myself, then indeed, I have to clean my room. As far as I am inside the space within which I live, then I myself am that in which I reside. My ‘room’ is an externalization of my mind, a representation of the mental state I find myself in at the time. The key is that this works both ways. It can be reverse engineered. I may set upon my journey of resolving my life’s chaos by first bringing order to the chaos around me. If I want to be the example for those lost in the aimless aether, then I must be the interweaved Quad-God within the grid of Collective Consciousness I wish they may all ascend to be. I’ve fallen subject to the madness which has thus far overwhelmed my life and allowed it to sink me further into failure rather than using it to propel me higher into the transcendental inception of my Christ Complex. No longer shall I be at the whims of my subconscious. I shall become the master of my Fate.
“Ms. Allardyce, I don’t believe we’ve met. Then again, I don’t spend much time neither at the local prison nor on Twitch’s Just Chatting trending tab. Alas, I won’t stoop to that level, I’m better than that. The reality of the situation is we have some things in common. Both of us come from broken homes, both have taken steps to fix our once shattered lives and we both enjoy the taste of ink.
“You appear to be the inversion of my persona, reflecting back at me from a twisted fun house mirror. You were born into turmoil and tried to be the hero, but instead of a hero’s reception you were cast asunder into the darkness of misconception. You wallowed in this madness as the Shadow cast its glow upon you from within. Every strike dealt to you by the inmates and embodiments of rot in the system sent you a revolution lower in the Spiral. When you were set free, you were a hollow shell of the potential you once had. Now you possess nothing but intrinsic lust for the wealth your parents had.
“I will use my grasp on inner demons to defeat your sinful motivations. Let me be your wake up call.”
As Alek’s colored pencils fly through various uncontrolled motions, as the colors coalesce into concrete patterns, the switch which has lain dormant in his mind finally clicks on. He freezes in place at the precise moment another pair of symbolic circular Sanskrit creations are completed. Behold, the maps to his redemption.
How could I have been such a fool, he ponders internally. After all the studying I’ve done on the great minds of our time, those simultaneously blessed and cursed with insight into that which extends beyond the realm of our world, how dare I become susceptible to the mistakes of the uninitiated? Alek lays his pencils on the papers offset from his creations. He looks deeply into the organized ugliness of chaos which creates their beautiful syncretic exemplification of order.
When the great Carl Jung flirted with psychosis, he found solace in these manifestations of his original inner peace. He channeled his longing for a return to normalcy, an escape from the madness. I now realize the difference between his situation and mine. The issues afflicting me are entirely the result of my own lack of control. Alek looks around and observes the madness of his living quarters, haphazardly staked into the soft ground.
If I want to change the world, I have to start with myself. If I want to change myself, then indeed, I have to clean my room. As far as I am inside the space within which I live, then I myself am that in which I reside. My ‘room’ is an externalization of my mind, a representation of the mental state I find myself in at the time. The key is that this works both ways. It can be reverse engineered. I may set upon my journey of resolving my life’s chaos by first bringing order to the chaos around me. If I want to be the example for those lost in the aimless aether, then I must be the interweaved Quad-God within the grid of Collective Consciousness I wish they may all ascend to be. I’ve fallen subject to the madness which has thus far overwhelmed my life and allowed it to sink me further into failure rather than using it to propel me higher into the transcendental inception of my Christ Complex. No longer shall I be at the whims of my subconscious. I shall become the master of my Fate.
“Ms. Allardyce, I don’t believe we’ve met. Then again, I don’t spend much time neither at the local prison nor on Twitch’s Just Chatting trending tab. Alas, I won’t stoop to that level, I’m better than that. The reality of the situation is we have some things in common. Both of us come from broken homes, both have taken steps to fix our once shattered lives and we both enjoy the taste of ink.
“You appear to be the inversion of my persona, reflecting back at me from a twisted fun house mirror. You were born into turmoil and tried to be the hero, but instead of a hero’s reception you were cast asunder into the darkness of misconception. You wallowed in this madness as the Shadow cast its glow upon you from within. Every strike dealt to you by the inmates and embodiments of rot in the system sent you a revolution lower in the Spiral. When you were set free, you were a hollow shell of the potential you once had. Now you possess nothing but intrinsic lust for the wealth your parents had.
“I will use my grasp on inner demons to defeat your sinful motivations. Let me be your wake up call.”