Hey beautiful people,
A quick update.
Socratic Social has been put on hold, hence there will be no sessions this Friday. I am hoping to resume it, or something similar to it, in the near future. Also, Ria Baeck is hosting another Collective Presencing session in The Stoa’s wisdom gym, which will be on Friday, at 7:30 AM ET.
Newly posted event:
Collective Presencing w/ Ria Baeck. Every Friday @ 7:30 AM ET. RSVP here. 90 mins.
An event to get excited about:
Bespoke Psychotechnology w/ Christian Sawyer. October 24th @ 4:00 PM ET. RSVP here. 90 mins.
The Stoa’s own psychotechnology wildman, Christian Sawyer, will share some of his adventures in mixing and modifying psychotechnologies, the dangers and rewards of such experiments, and the hard-won principles and protocols which can help others in their personal or collective practices of psychotech crafting.
October 20, 2020
There is no shortage of things I could write about. I have a bunch of topics in my journaling queue, such as brother hunger, holy sluts, and culture war hills I do not want to die on.
I do not feel like getting into cerebrally heavy stuff today though. Maybe I should write something simple, as things have been getting hellish and weird with the last few entries. The thought did emerge the other day: I probably should write like a normal person, to remind people I can be one.
I could write about how Socrates and myself have our epic battles. I appreciate his odd personality. He is sweet when he is tired, and that is when you can grab him, and pet him, and kiss him on the head. When he is awake though, he only wants to go outside and try to catch birds, and when he is not chasing birds, he is trying to pick a fight with me.
I could write about how Christoph and myself send text voice messages to each other, with random messages of encouragement. His voice contains so much energy, and it makes me want to jump on a plane and meet him in some foreign land, where boyish adventures and unknown troubles await.
I could write about waking up early to write these journals, and before making my morning espresso, I take a look at Camille for a moment, and appreciate how pretty and pure she looks when she is asleep; I like to feel my heart burst a little when I see this.
I could write about a lot of things, that would make me seem relatable, because I do feel relatable. I guess going balls-out with truthfulness with my recent entries has made me self-conscious. It seems ridiculous what I have been writing about lately: a demonic attack that gave me murderous thoughts, a therapy session with a professor who now can sell out stadiums talking about the Bible, and a recent psychotic break where I thought I was plugged into the archetype of Saint Peter.
Yeah, I probably should chill and write about kissing my cat on the head some more. Somebody wrote to me and said parts of my journal entry yesterday were “straight fire.” Fire here meaning it was awesome. I do feel like what is happening here is pretty awesome, and despite how egoic this may sound, I do feel like I am on fire.
Charles Bukowski, whose poems I adore, had this one I particularly like called “Roll the Dice.”
if you’re going to try, go all the way.
this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.
I almost lost my mind a bunch of times, and things were getting pretty dicey with Camille in the summer. I do feel like both my mind and my marriage are stronger now than they were before though.
if you’re going to try,
go all the way.
there is no other feeling like that.
you will be alone with the gods
and the nights will flame with fire.
I always wanted to set my life on fire, and I think Bukowski’s poetic advice is fundamentally right, you have to go all the way.
COVID happened, and I saw an opening that had no promise of return. It was an opening that seemed like an escape hatch from a dying world. I had nothing better to do really, so I grabbed the matches, and went all the way in.