I am the Anti-Buddha or: Who the Fuck is This Me Person Anyway?

Posted: June 18, 2007 in Random Thoughts
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If you are a person who flinches at the mere mention of Descartes or who genuinely didn’t understand that Animal Farm wasn’t just a novelization of Loony Toons, I have some serious advice for you.

STOP

READING

THIS

RIGHT

FUCKING

NOW

For the rest of you, you’ve been warned. Yar, here there be philosophically pretentious mind fuckery.

So this weekend I smoked some great fucking pot with a really good friend and had one of those cliched conversations endlessly maligned in every movie or t.v. show ever made about stoners. Sadly, the fact that we were high didn’t, in any way, diminish the truth of what we talked about. In fact, two days later, my brain still feels like it’s being tickled in the clitoris. I am AWAKE people, and, for the first time in a long time, it almost feels like it’s on purpose.

The conversation we had essentially made me realize that, at some point in the last five years, I have become seriously de-fanged. I have, to crib from my Sith Master, Joss Whedon, been turned into the kind of fluffy puppy who doesn’t chase after cars anymore. Somewhere along the way, the me I actually kind of dug, died a sneaky, uneventful death and it’s high time to make with the resurrection mojo.

A little background, if you will.

Once upon a time, mostly because I knew that the girl I was dating was especially sexually susceptible to conversation of the 1st year philosophy variety, I had a long winded talk about the essentially transitory nature of the human condition as it relates to our constantly changing physiology. I actually argued that, since our biology is impermanent (we wake up a physically different person tomorrow than the one who went to sleep tonight), and since, I believed, personality and memory are merely functional byproducts of physiology, our sense of self was merely an illusion we clung to in order to make some sense of our sad little, angst ridden lives.

It got me well and truly laid, and yup, I was a dick head.

I didn’t, however, really stop to think about what I was saying and had no idea that it would turn around and bite me again seven years later.

Here’s what I’ve come to over the last couple of days.

We really are the sum total of memories. Every kiss, every panhandler we ignore, everytime we cheat on a diet, these things all leave scars and impressions that inform the decisions we’ll make tomorrow. The problem is, they’re not our memories. They belong to someone else and most of us become absolute slaves to them, terrified to act out of character for fear of appearing unhinged. I’ll tell you what I mean.

You ever feel disconnected? You ever ask yourself why you did something, as in “I don’t know why I cheated on my girlfriend” or, “I don’t know why I wasted another $50 at the casino”. Have you ever uttered the phrase, “That’s so weird I don’t usually act like that”?

That’s because you don’t really exist anymore. After a certain amount of time you started to let the things that you’ve done and that have been done to you completely overwhelm your ability to make new choices. You’ve sacrificed your free will to habit. You now function on auto pilot, acting completely according to pre-programmed contingencies and it gets really confusing when that little virus we call impulse fucks with the machine.

The hell of it is, it wasn’t inevitable.

Buddhism tells us that to truly become enlightened we have to let go of the ego. We have to realize that every living thing is connected by a fabric that has nothing to do with our individual wants or hurts. We have to let go of who we are in order to understand that self means nothing.

I call bullshit.

Everyone of us does this everyday. We sacrifice who we wanted to be and what we could have been to society’s idea of what we should be. It’s like a torture porn version of never ending peer review. We only follow advice that jives with conclusions we’ve come to that make us happy, and only give advice that is designed to make ourselves comfortable with a struggling member of our social unit. We do this to ensure that everyone behaves according to our own preset notions of acceptability and we block out any stimulus that forces us to deal with shit on a real and new level. This can’t be healthy.

I say fuck it. Don’t let the past fester in the back of your mind and fuck with your present. Don’t let the you you were die and be replaced with nothing more than impressions that choose your tomorrow. Live as every person you’ve ever been, choose to control and revel and really connect in your ego and all your past selves.

Douglas Adams once said “Since the Universe is infinite or so close to it makes no difference, and the number of people living in it are clearly finite, if we divide the the total number of people by all the space in the Universe, we get the following solution: Everyone you run into is pretty much a figment of your imagination.”

If all we are is figments of each other’s imaginations, for the love of Bob let’s try and imagine something better. Otherwise, the you that read this today will be dead tomorrow, and all his lessons lost to habit.

So, who wants to fuck me now?

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Comments
  1. Rodrigo says:

    Oi, achei teu blog pelo google tá bem interessante gostei desse post. Quando der dá uma passada pelo meu blog, é sobre camisetas personalizadas, mostra passo a passo como criar uma camiseta personalizada bem maneira. Até mais.

  2. Rodrigo says:

    Oi, achei teu blog pelo google tá bem interessante gostei desse post. Quando der dá uma passada pelo meu blog, é sobre camisetas personalizadas, mostra passo a passo como criar uma camiseta personalizada bem maneira. Até mais.

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