Wow. Today was interesting.
So, Derrick hypnotized me. And I learned a LOT of things.
I'll try to recount today as well as I can, as I feel that it has been a day worth remembering.
First Derrick and I met for breakfast. We talked about the hypnosis over eggs Benedict, talked about some other things, and I wrote down the final version of the questions I'd ask in my session. I'll go over these later, with the answers (as I remember them currently).
Then...wow, it bothers me that I can't remember much of what we talked about during out whole morning.
We'll such it is. Then we went to a picturesque cafe nearby, and shared our life philosophies and stories a bit.
Then my place, and we begin our hypnosis.
Let's see what I can remember of this.
So it started in my valley. With my puma. I was resting on the cliff, i the sun, watching the birds fly over the forest. I go on a little trip which I've can't dive into detail on, and suddenly find myself underground.
This is strange. It feels strange. I am closely surrounded by rock.
Then I see a fire. I am not surrounded by rock anymore. I interrupt Derrick and tell him that I have arrived somewhere.
I am, I realize, with my tribe. We are at the mouth of a cave. I am wearing soft skin shoes and loose animal skin cloths.
Across the fire from me, to the right, are a couple cuddling. To my right is a friend who I have hunted with often, survived near death with. His name us Ugh. To my left is a girl I love. She is curled up, staring into the fire. I want to go and cuddle her, but I feel like she's doing something and I should leave her to it. I think her name is Ash.
Flash to another point in that same evening, and we're eating. Most things are roughly the same, except that I notice something about Ugh. See, he is fully eating. It is everything that he is in that moment. He chews and tastes the deer we have killed, and it's obvious that nothing else matters to him in the world right now. He is the verb 'to eat'. And he's always like this. Completely doing whatever he is doing. 100% focused. This is why I like him. I admire this.
Flash forward again, and we're in a fight. We're in a forest, and we've been ambushed by people with short, straight hair, darker skin, and smaller frames.
I'm afraid. And angry. Ugh is kicking ass behind me. I don't know where Ash is. I'm standing there with my spear, and they're coming from everywhere.
I see the male half of the couple get taken down. I know he is dead. I rush in and kill one of his killers.
We wind up routing our attackers. We quickly round up the tribe, tend our wounds, I lick a cut on Ash's leg (both to disinfect it and take care of her, as well as be playfully sexual). We quickly honor the male half of the couple (the female half grieves a bit more than us), taking a moment to remember him and love him, and we move on. We know that, once he's dead, his body belongs to the earth.
We camp that night near a lake.
Flash to another life. I'm in a longhouse in the winter. I see kids playing, and people slowly and relaxedly milling about. I realize that I don't think I'm human. I think I'm a dog. An old and wise lady is scratching my head.
Upon Derrick's prompting, I explore my memories. I know, from my memory, that this house is surrounded by a short but strong barricade-fence, a few other buildings, and some kind of agricultural thing going on, in which fields I play with kids.
I don't stay here long. My body feels very uncomfortable. Derrick trys to bring me to a next point in that life, and suddenly (after a few quick flashes between different scenes) I'm in a room full of tall marble columns.
I am leaning against a column near the entrance, waiting for someone. I have a sword, well made breaches, a flowing shirt with a deep V next, waving brown hair, and striking features.
I am looking on with bemused disdain at the scene in front of me. Ostentatious decorations, mosaics, and the like surround this place. Fat men in robes scurry about. One of these fat men, the one I am waiting for, is my uncle. I have done something that has gotten me into a bit of trouble with these bureaucrats, and he's in there sorting it out. Something involving being drunk and a chariot. I also know that I am the son of an aristocrat, I live a play-boy-eque life of women and sexy people and learning and general adventeristic hedonism.
I see my uncle approach me. He looks like all the other fat men; balding in front, walking weirdly as he holds up part of his robe in one hand, generally looking like a symptom of a screwed up society. He seems a bit flustered.
I like him and he likes me, but we're both kinda skeptical about each other's lifestyles.
He won't tell me what's up, and his expression does not bode well. We walk out of the building, through the market-lined streets. Nothing. He's avoiding the topic.
The city is well built, the people look active. There's lots of white clothes and lot of manskirts.
Flash forward. We're having dinner at his place. Still nothing. I don't think that my uncle would let anything seriously bad happen to me...but he might let something moderately bad happen to 'teach me a lesson'.
Not my style.
That night, I leave. I grab a horse, some gear, and head out.
We leave that scene, and I'm looking at a bedpost. I'm in a bed with flowing silk curtains and a beautiful room with the wind breezing through.
In bed with me is a woman. Someone's wife.
Flash forward to my death bed. I'm dying of old age. My two children are at my bedside. I am proud of them, and them of me. I love them. There is no sorrow here. We have talked about this, and we understand that it is simply my time to die.
Derrick is caught off guard here. He asks me to flash back to see my family.
I am having dinner with my family in our well off estate. My wife, my young man son, my child-aged daughter, and a guest who is something of a student of mine. I taught him the ways of the merchant class.
I am a merchant. A successful one. I became a merchant because it allowed me to profit from a life of enjoyment and adventure, and because it allowed me to disrupt the fat men in white robes and make this a little more interesting (and usually better) for everyone involved.
I have eschewed my aristocratic airs, turning rebel against them.
I am among the first of the rising merchant class. A class of free commoners, who have self-made wealth and have obtained self-made power. We are beginning to challenge the incumbent aristocrat class.
I have taught my son archery and the like. He is going to be a great man.
Flash back to my death bed. I die, my son holding tightly to my hand in a bond of man recognizing and loving man. I am very proud of him.
Derrick asks me to go past. To die and see what is next.
It's nothing. I don't see anything. I feel like I'm floating. And everything is okay.
Derrick asks me to look back on my life. See if from a different perspective.
The lesson from that life is hat life is worth the adventure. I enjoyed everything, it was awesome. It was all fun. Even when things were dangerous and crazy, I enjoyed myself. It was just...well spent.
Also, having a strong body is important. I always kept my body able. Because of that, I was able to do most of the things I did. I never got fat, I never got lazy. I never stopped. I was always up to something.
I kept myself active, both physically and with projects. There was always something I was trying to do. I'd be raising my son, or building my caravan, or seducing this girl..whatever. It was always something.
Back to my current state. I feel like everything around me is the same thing as I am...which is not much.
I do sense large entities in the far distance.
Derrick asks me to go check them out.
I go to a sun (I just am there, all of a sudden). In front of me, incredibly close it seems, the burning sun roars and roils. There's planets around. I guess I'm in space.
I look to myself again. I am nothing. I have no limbs. No body. I am just an awareness. And everything is okay. "It's really chillaxed, I feel like the Beatles."
Now we get in touch with my ideal self. And we ask him the questions. I won't be able to do these good justice now. I will report back soon when I have listened to the recording.
Picture is: my creation station for the day
Well hello there, fancy seeing you here.
Today is a hustle day.
Picture is: The wonderful and occassionally spooky stairs to my neighbourhood
Good news, I just lost my shirt.
I like that shirt. Despite the fact that it almost always stinks (one day I will care enough to fix the issue that I perpetually stink), it's got an awesome design and it just to happens to perfectly match my ilumina bracelet.
Picture is: A list of all the cheezy things me and Asha must do.
Top performers sleep a lot.
Photo is: The aftermath of a war I was having with mosquitoes throughout the entire writing of this post. Fuckers.
Woah, that was intense. It's 0225, and I've finished my day.
Where'd that fire go?
I just had it. It was right here. This burning blaze that drove me to hustle from waking to wayy past my sleeping time.
Sleep was unimportant. Work was a blast.
What did it?
Today's Mantra: "Long term consistency trumps short term intensity." - Bruce Lee
Man oh man have I been avoiding this one. I did not want to write this. Instead of spending the last hour writing, I spent the last hour avoiding writing.
I hung out today. I chilled with Matt and Gary, hung out with Nico and Jenny and Muka, had a drive with Emy (who thinks that I am 30 xD).
It was cool.
Now THIS has been an interesting day.
I woke up feeling kinda depressed. Nothing major, just a bit of kickback from a thing that happened yesterday.
I finally got myself to a cafe around noon, dove into a little enclave that feels perfect for hustle, and wrote Lorenzo's about page copy four 1.5 hours.
Then lunch and Hubud where, among other things, I send out a bunch of emails, pitched a new copywriting client, and went to the bitcoin meetup.
It's 930 tomorrow.
By tomorrow, I mean the day after I am supposed to write my hour. Shit.
So I fell into the same mistake that I have fallen into a fair few times before. I go to bed, thinking to take a nap before doing my hour (because I have put it off till the end of the day). The alarm fails to awaken me, and I miss my hour for the day.
The solution is clear: stop doing this. Either I write my hour while being exhausted, or I write it earlier (before dark).
Well today's been awesome. I hung out with Tanner, with James and Samuel and Dana and Mat and the a bunch of other Dynamite Circle peeps. I did some good reading, said goodbye to Laura, chatted with some cool people online.
One thing I've been thinking about these works: should I be 'allowed' to do other work in this hour?
The point of this writing is "training myself, proving to myself, that I can resolve to do something, and then persist to have it done". The medium to train myself was to be "A challenge to the very core of my being. Can I sit down, every single day, for one whole hour, for 90 days in a row, and write?".
Well, it doesn't matter what I write according to that. I can devote the writing time to philosophizing, to repeating the same word again and again, to trying new stuff, whatever.