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I am talking to myself. This time, it is really truly a rehearsal. I am reciting a speech in my head that I will never give to make myself look like a saint to an audience that doesn’t exist.

Stop it. This gets you nowhere.

I know, but my mind goes back there, by itself.

When you find yourself there again, just talk to God about it. Use the same internal verbalizing that you’re using to speak to your imaginary audience. It works for them, it will work for talking to God.

You talk today to the imaginary future audience so your ego feels big today. Or you reduce today’s fear of the future that might never come.

Yes, the speech assumes I moved to a new place to live and I’m giving a talk there, hoping to that people will like me. The likelihood of a move is remote but maybe I am afraid of being alone, or something like that.

Just so. If you are rehearsing today because you are afraid today of a future event, talk to God the same way you talk to yourself.

The future rarely happens the way you imagine it will. Talking to God will bring you back to now. you are always afraid now. Talking to God now will transform fear now. Let the future event happen or not. Probably it won’t, in reality.

And while you’re at it, do some menial task, like wiping down the kitchen counters or unloading the dishwasher. Talk to God and do something small that makes you feel good? That’s a recipe for success.

Yes, I wiped down the table. It had crumbs all over it. That felt good.

(NB: From the Observer. The Kingdom of God is within, as everyone from Jesus to Tim Grover has reminded you. You already know the answer. It’s just a matter of doing what you know you have to do. This episode just proved it, again.)

Hah. The Observer made an appearance! It’s turtles all the way up.

I will be a better writer.

Let’s do this.

. . . I will start having good ideas. But I have to get rid of the bad ones first, by posting them.

I started writing because I thought I needed to show people with silly political opinions how silly they were. Of course, I would change the course of history by showing people what is really real.

Now I’m writing to get to the bottom of me.

Action did that. Only action revealed self to self. Only action revealed the vanity and futility of the first objective. Only action showed me what I really seek.

Fortunately, what I seek is within my control.

And I realized that my daily habits included reading good stuff and writing (these few paragraphs). These two things help me remember what’s what as I go about my daily day. The remembering helps me deal with perturbations (saw that word in a book, and I love it).

Like yesterday. The rear driver’ side window in my car randomly shattered as I was driving. I didn’t go to hell. Just took care of business. I am experiencing some expense for the repair and some inconvenience from being without a car in the meantime (it takes a lot of work to thoroughly clean the shards of glass from all over the interior).

Ok, then.

Mid-day at work. I feel a bit off, physically, I go home to take a nap instead of powering through.

You know my first self-diagnosis, of course. Yes. I have The Virus. At least now I have a new reflexive fear to replace the old one (it’s brain cancer).

Yes I know. Out of my control. Worse yet, not even real. The fear is made up. I have to laugh at myself.

The nap didn’t work. I forgot to put my phone on silent. At least I got a bit of physical rest.

The favicon I chose is a red pill, with a hat-tip to The Matrix.

As a reminder to self, don’t get too caught up in red pill metaphor. Seek reality but don’t stop there. Keep going. I’m writing these entries to keep myself trained on target, to keep going. Merely perceiving the real and discarding fantasy is not the aim.

Again as a reminder to self, here is how I see the Pill Hierarchy, from lost to found:

• Blue pill. Deliberately living in fantasy, afraid of reality.
• Red pill. Choosing to see, and seeing, what is real.
• Black pill. Doomsday thinking, giving up in the face of reality after taking the red pill.
• White pill. Rejecting fatalism and actively and optimistically seeking answers after taking the red pill.
• Clear pill. Accepting it all.

From blue to red is a decision. After that, it’s how you digest the consequences of that decision.

Is the experience of seeing reality going to sink you to bleak resignation and bitterness (black pill)? Or will you spring into action (white pill) and perhaps achieve some tranquility (clear pill)?

The Stoics lived the clear pill life.

For me, the biggest (and quite recent) red pill (the echo of which is still building, louder and louder in me) is that I will die, with certainty, and probably not too long from now. (Excessive use of parentheticals be damned.)

Note that this is my own pill hierarchy. I’ve seen people refer to the differently colored pills in many ways. This is my way and it works for me.

I’m nearing the end of listening to all of the back episodes of a podcast I enjoy. As soon as I reach the most recent episode, I will start again at the beginning. This time, I will listen at my desk, with a notepad.

I’m midway through a book. Two people mentioned it within a week, so I bought it. There isn’t a lot of actionable advice (so far) but that’s not the author’s objective. In a dozen different ways (and not in a spiritual context), he’s saying the Kingdom of God is within, and find it yourself. Outsiders (like him) can encourage you, can point the way. Only you can find your Kingdom. He says as much: he doesn’t help people to access the Inner Kingdom. He insists they must do it for themselves. He is certain that the Kingdom is within all of us, not just a fortunate few. It’s a book about pro athletes, mostly. I do not like pro sports. Serves me right for having a closed mind. Look what I would have missed if I wasn’t willing.

I will read the book again as soon as I finish, and get the audio book to listen to while running. Probably I will buy the Kindle version, too. My phone is my friend now, full of important, useful, inspiring books. (I gave away my actual Kindle. Semi-useless.)

After a triple play of Taleb’s works, I put them to the side for a while. But not for long.

Read deeply. The great books are all talking about the same ancient truths, all from their own perspectives.

It’s probably not necessary to read widely, for spiritual purposes at least. Maybe for other endeavors it is. But to keep my mind clean? Half a dozen books would be enough. (I will cheat and use Taleb’s characterization of his books as a single work, the Incerto. Or just give me Skin In the Game. Otherwise, I will make the list a dozen books and be happy.)

I don’t know anyone else who reads like this.

Note. I just remembered one that I haven’t picked up in a while. If it sold 10,000 copies over the last 40 years I’d be surprised. OK maybe 20,000. I don’t know where I could find another copy. But it’s part of the foundation that made me who I am today. On the shelf, right now. It’s coming out for a refresher.

There is one little self-published book I read and re-read 30 years ago that kept me sane during a hard time. Full of horrible grammar and typos, it was. Somewhere along the way I lost the book or loaned it to someone. I don’t remember the name of the author or the title of the book. I hope whoever found it experienced the same relief, belief, and transformation that I did.

The book was about renunciation as the key to inner peace. Not renunciation of worldly goods, but renunciation of desire for things, people, approval, etc. The author was some sort of self-appointed swami who went through alcoholism, poverty, and deep unhappiness, and found this path for himself.

And that reminds me to find and reread St. John of the Cross. Dark Night of the Soul. That title tells you that St. John lived that life. Then there was the other book, apparently a true story, about the happy monk a long time ago.

Renunciation of desire sounds a lot like the Stoics from a different point of view, doesn’t it? Everything is the same, at the foundation.

Reread.

How can you tell if something is bad for you?

The easiest way is to stop doing it and see what happens. Via negativa.

One old saying I remember hearing is the definition of alcoholism:

An alcoholic is a person whose life gets better when he stops drinking.

Take away the drinking, and things improve? Diagnosis: complete.

I am having this experience with the internet generally. During the election time I became a different man, someone whose attitudes and behaviors I do not like. I was a cranky, close-minded bastard. Even if my beliefs were (and are) correct, my actions and words surely were not.

Nota bene: it is the election-year experience (especially lurking Twitter) and the questioning of my beliefs that led me to start writing here. What do I believe to be good for me, for the community? Why? The Moronathon on Twitter alarmed me and I was becoming one of them. I do not want to be one of them. One can hold a belief sincerely without being childish. It only requires some intellectual honesty, some humility, and a willingness to change if reality shows you are mistaken.

Daily, I set the Freedom.to blocking software to run from when I wake up until 1:00 a.m. it keeps me away from all tempting sites. Sometimes the blocking is a hinderance to a task I need to perform (e.g., I can’t view YouTube videos) but that is a small loss.

My mind is at peace. My principles for living are better known to me. I live a better life. I am happier.

Just like the alcoholic who has a better life when he stops drinking, I now have a better life without the worst elements of the internet. People who aren’t alcoholics can have a glass of wine. Other people can read stuff on Twitter. I have demonstrated convincingly to myself that I should choose not to be one of those people.

There is probably value to be found there, but, it appears, I have not missed much of value by abandoning Twitter, Reddit, etc.

I look at what I write here and I don’t like it very much.

But I hit publish immediately.

And I like me as a result.

The things you think about determine the quality of your mind. Your soul takes on the color of your thoughts.

Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius. 5.16.

Good thoughts bring forth good fruit.

Bad thoughts rot your meat.

Good Thoughts, Bad Thoughts, by George Clinton, performed by Funkadelic.

I love that song. Eddie Hazel’s guitar-playing? Wow. That’s what struck me the first time I heard the song, even before George Clinton started saying his remarkably unexpected words. WHAT is THAT? From the early 1970s? Why haven’t I heard this before?