If an ascetic gains deeper understanding of self and the metaphysical “world” through abstinence, then it is up to Him to discern that which most severely requires abnegation. In order to become supratemporal, He must reject the material vines that so clutch Him, those pulling Him towards the roots of chthonic depths. Abstention from the temporal layer, however, only serves inasmuch as to remove Him from the lower crepuscular station, whereupon He is birthed into purgatory. This ascent and subsequent sloughing of physical objects must then be accompanied by a more arduous adventure. He must ascertain that these lower urges were light shackles in comparison to the mental, inner chains which truly fetter Him. It is through this struggle of mind He must persevere if He is to attain a vestige of enlightenment. What appears on the other side is ineffable. Imagine the light and warmth of a billion suns. Imagine a rapturous, cognizant rebirth. It is in this light that one has found Himself: the formation of the Divine Trinity—Mind, Body, and Soul. Perhaps this is where He finally escapes infinity, where His soul is lifted from the boundless, flat circle of time, at long last evading His reincarnation, free from everlasting torment.
If Hell is other people, then Purgatory is oneself, and Heaven is nothingness.
Philosophical garble aside, I’d like to provide a little context regarding this post. Since before I can recall, I have been interested in a deeper understanding of the world. Nietzsche, Kant, Sartre, and Camus have been my most prized thinkers, and I believe I’ve had a serious misinterpretation of their philosophies. To be more specific, I have twisted their thoughts to my Will. Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but I adapted their ideas to my own self-loathing ideation. What I did not understand until recently is that I yearned for something more within myself.
From an early age, I wanted to fit in, find my niche, my people. Myself. I’ve discovered this can leave one riddled with anxiety. So too can coping—or distancing oneself from themselves—with substances. I am of the opinion that everyone wants to discover true individuation—even if they can’t put a name to it—but most are not capable of doing so. We would rather cling to an artificial façade of orgiastic conformity than dive deep into ourselves. I see profoundly unhappy people each day, and I am convinced that is because of superficial superfluity, or rather, a desire to fit in, to be liked. Possibly even to be adored. I am not stating this to say I am above reproach. To err is human, but to want to assimilate is even more human.
My point in all this is that I, for the first time, have recognized this in myself. Truly. Perhaps I’ve encountered this thought before, as I’ve scraped the surface of ontological thought in my readings. But, until recently, I hadn’t genuinely performed an honest thought experiment. What you’re reading now is part of that experimentation process. I have come to this point by a bit of asceticism, i.e., abstention from alcohol, THC (and its derivatives), and video games. These previously were all distractions from myself, but when I had sincere thoughts about better uses of my time, the anxiety knob would crank up to 11. Why not just make 10 the loudest? Because mine goes up to 11. And since I’ve been free from these three temporal vices for just over a month (my last taste of alcohol was in New Orleans on January 9th, my last dance with Mary Jane was an edible on New Years Eve, and I can’t honestly tell you the last time I touched my joystick [not a euphemism, ffs]), I have not experienced a shred of that former anxiety. That is not to say I haven’t had moments of anxiousness, but those stem from deeper reaches, which is what I’m trying to suss out now via a physical-mental transformation.
This is the third week in a row that I’ve been hitting the gym for six days straight a week, with no weightlifting on the sabbath. This seventh day allows me to focus on more fiscal responsibilities and scheduling, but I’ve started incorporating journaling as well. If you know me, you know I’m not religious. But why did you capitalize He, Him, Himself in the introduction? For the sake of brevity, because I can. As a nontheistic Satanist—I prefer the term Discordian, but I’d rather not identify with anything at all, it just helps plebeians understand me a little better—I believe in a more solipsistic divine form. I’d say, “because I’m God”, but that freaks out the normies. A more fitting, inclusive axiom would be: “All Gods, all masters.”
And that brings me back to the original idea behind this post, that I’m trying to discover God. I am trying to discover myself. I’ve decided to hop onto the rope ladder rather than fashion it into a permanent seat in the nose-bleeds; to take the shaky climb to the top in the hopes of transcending my lower, temporal self. I no longer enjoy the slug life, if ever there was enjoyment in it. Through abstinence from earthly desires, I will balance myself upon the rungs and climb upwards. And, as the ladder begins to quake, I will steady my mind and rid it of visceral temptations. I will continue to craft my Body and hone my Mind in search for my Soul.