(B01C06) Chapter 6: The Love of Wisdom (Philo Sophia)

“WELL, HE'S TELLIN' US THIS AND HE'S TELLIN' US THAT. CHANGES IT EVERY DAY. SAYS IT DOESN'T MATTER. BASES ARE LOADED AND CASEY'S AT BAT. PLAYIN' IT PLAY BY PLAY. TIME TO CHANGE THE BATTER.” – “ROCKY MOUNTAIN WAY” BY JOE WALSH

Studying patterns as a means to learn from everything in your environment is incredibly efficient. Not only do you get a free, open-source education without spending a dime, you are also able to develop this pattern recognition ability further as a means to better understand our own psychology. Once I was able to see the difference between truth and preference, I was fairly capable of separating someone else's emotions from my own. Being as sensitive as I was, this was definitely something that I needed to work on.

The fear of abandonment that I had felt from my father's emotional distance was taken quite personally, even though I really had no reason to feel that way. After all, my father was alive, financially supportive, and not physically abusive in the least. In fact, I still have only ever seen him angry or verbally defensive a handful of times my entire life. Unfortunately, when we are children, we don't need words or actions to absorb the energies of our environment. What took me so long to figure out was that I wasn't only a sponge to learning as a kid, but I also took on my father's subconscious fears of abandonment. Even when I had no reason whatsoever to claim myself a victim of abandonment, I looked for one so that I could take responsibility for (what I believed to be) my feelings.

Because my father never spoke about his emotions or his feelings, I felt responsible for all of mine, not realizing that I was carrying the weight of everything he refused to acknowledge about himself. I felt these energies so intimately because I loved and trusted my father as much as I did. Had I been suspicious, genuinely refusing of his affections or attention, or otherwise rebellious against him, I would have never been able to breach his electromagnetic field. Not only was I willing to approach my father in such a way, I also felt somewhat responsible; it was almost as if I could feel him, silently, asking me for help to escape his own steel cage.

However, there were many times that I fell towards resentment and pushed him away, running to my mother for both shelter and a smile. Yet, because his energy also never quit when faced with difficulty, I absorbed that too. I would go back for attempts for him to explain so that I could eventually compile a logic and reasoning that would make me feel more capable of discerning what was mine and what was his—energy wise, of course. My issues with codependency actually began because of this relationship with my father; not my mother, as he and others would claim. Something deep inside me made me feel that if I rejected my father or shut him out, then I would be doing the same to myself. I was afraid to lose my best friend too.

Unfortunately, there were no patterns I could identify in his logic, reason, or demeanor which would clarify his authority. It seemed as if he had his own philosophy entirely, derived completely from a place within him, separate from the entire world and duality itself. No matter what he did, he was always right. Even when his actions revealed inconsistencies, he could always explain himself with an infallible logic which would eventually convince me that everything was my fault.

While I would sit silently, studying my father's patterns, I was able to identify some of the base truths about his personal philosophy. My father taught me many things; however, the most impactful lessons I could have ever learned were those absolutes which made my father stand out from the rest of the world. My father took things to the very extreme. This was done on purpose. Instead of wasting a lot of time trying to defend his subjective preferences, he instead identified himself with the lowest common denominator: base logic.

Macaroni Salad

My father didn't often share too many stories; so when he did, I would disassemble them completely and extract every dimension of meaning from them, like hieroglyphics. One story, specifically, spoke of my fathers distaste for macaroni salad. What I found at the core of this anecdote would eventually explain his entire philosophy of focus and determinations. There are patterns in everything that, when consistencies are identified, can connect the dots between every person's true nature. These lines run through the darkened portions of their character, even the things they do not always wish to expose or discuss.

The way I showed love to my family was by sincerely seeking to understand them more intimately. Therefore, the way I showed love to my father was by studying him at great lengths. It was only by this practice that I ever thought it possible to enter his heart. However, this part of my father was so closed off to the rest of the world. I could only succeed if I could weather the storms of emotional defenses and accusations. As a means to discern myself from him enough to be immune to guilt and shame, I would have to model myself completely after him—becoming him entirely. It was only by this practice that I could eliminate the responsibility for his judgment. When you hold up a mirror in front of someone and they find something wrong, you instantly realize it has nothing to do with you at all. In that moment, you are free from their expectations and conditions. More than that, you could better understand how they truly feel about themselves. Since I was looking to love my father at greater depths, knowing how he felt about himself would allow me to unlock the mystery piece of him that was also a part of me.

My father hated macaroni salad. Whenever the topic of macaroni salad would enter the conversation, he would tell a story about a time when he ate his last portion. At this time, my parents had just recently gotten married and were living with my mother's parents until they could save up enough money to get their own place. While they were all in the same house, they ate dinner together. At one point, my grandmother had saved several gallons of leftover macaroni salad from a recent family gathering. There was so much of this leftover that it would take weeks for the whole family to finish it, portion by portion. Being that my father disliked this dish so much, eventually he put his foot down.

Paul did not refuse the macaroni salad; he was not only willing to do his “part,” but he was also able to do it without complaining at all whatsoever. However, feeling responsible to eat a food you don't like every single day for weeks was not something that he looked forward to. More than that, he wanted it to end as soon as possible. And so, one evening, before dinner, he took out all of the remaining macaroni salad, divided it up into equal portions for everyone, and over one meal ate his complete portion.

After he was finished eating, he requested that he not receive any more. My father didn't mind the idea of doing his “bit” for the family, but he wanted to do it his way—all or nothing. He wanted to do everything all up front so that he could then go beyond the collective expectations of his environment and instead move on to the things he enjoyed—or at least liked. My father always stood out as a person who was willing to do something so extreme that it completely differentiated and separated himself from his family or general environment. It wasn't that he was resentful at all, however. He just never saw any reason to endure expectations or requirements that he didn't personally care for or agree with. He did his part, and then he dismissed himself—with honor—from what the rest of the family did with their plates. By doing this, he didn't make himself an exception, yet he was still able to recapture his “time” from any externalized expectations conditions.

Being that he was so adamant about his distaste for macaroni salad, below his actions was a logic that I would eventually apply—both positively and negatively—to various situations of my life as a means to simultaneously practice self-care and self-respect, but also to reclaim my personal sovereignty within a structure I respected for their difference, but at the same time did not extend that enough to accept the weight of their authority. I would always learn to do my “portion” in life, and then when I was finished on “my time,” I could excuse myself from the labor. After doing so, I could be assured that if anyone had issues with me doing this, they would only be revealing that the “portion” was not of their concern, but more the requirement to passively accept subtle authority systems that stemmed from preferences or subjective law.

My father's past was riddled with experiences much worse than obligations to eat macaroni salad. And so, by the time he married my mother, he had enough practice to separate the things in this life that were within his control to change and those things which were not. In his family, suffering was part of the culture. After a while, he realized that in order to survive in this environment, he too had to thread the line and differentiate what was his sovereign right as a human being and what was unnecessary abusive toxicity. Without reclaiming control over his own mind, he may not have been able to make it out of his childhood home alive—or in one piece. However, being the main financial provider after his father died at 14, he still did his “portion.” Eventually, he found a way to do it his way—on his time.

By reclaiming a sense of control over his own home life, he was eventually able to suppress or invalidate some of the voices of his previous abuses which echoed in the darkened corners of his mind. Though he experimented with his own alcohol addiction, he eventually found that it only made things worse. Instead of becoming just like his parents, he instead went the opposite way as they did; this seemed to be the only way that he could escape the oppressive and endless expectations his parents would place upon him. No matter what he did, one of his parents would always find something to point out that made him seem like a failure. Yet, even though this may have been the source of incredible trauma, out of that fire forged a man who wore iron armor so impenetrable that the entire world couldn't crush him if the skies had ever fallen.

The strength that my father acquired from his perpetual abuses and suffering was the ability to not only endure pain, but to eat it—without complaining or playing the victim. After all, if he played the victim, he would only give his power away to the subject of those complaints. So, when he ate, he consumed everything that would be considered his “portion” up front. Instead of tasting macaroni salad, he feasted on his own sovereign freedom: the source of his power. It didn't matter to him what anyone said about his methods, for he had more than enough practice silencing the voices of those who were addicted to their own toxic consumables and expectations.

Because he no longer focused his attention upon the physical substance or act he was expected to endure, he instead grew a taste for suffering itself. The “hard part” became his “favorite part.” After beating his own mind in moments of incredibly misplaced suffering, shame, and guilt, he not only ingested pain, but he thrived on it. He sustained himself by doing things that nobody else could do, without complaining, with more efficiency and gratitude that anyone could believe to be possible.

“WHO HARD? YO I DONE HEARD WORSE. WE CAN GET IN TWO CARS AND ACCELERATE AT EACH OTHER TO SEE WHICH ONE'LL SWERVE FIRST. TWO BLIND BANDITS PANIC WHOSE MENTAL CAPACITY HOLDS THAT OF A GLOBE ON TOP OF NINE OTHER PLANETS.” – “BAD MEETS EVIL” BY EMINEM 

Once he realized he had differentiated himself from those around him, he found that his “friend” was this ghost of pain which so many other people immediately assumed was “bad” or “evil,” just because their preferences did not allow them to see the inherent strength of character underneath the appearances. This “friend” not only stayed with him when he was abandoned in his youth, but it also seemed to “choose” him more than others. As a means to connect with something in his life that prioritized him, he associated himself with the “father figure” of personal suffering and forfeiture of personal preferences.

The entire world could abandon him, but could always resort to this safe haven of suffering to remind him that his selfless sacrifices were more than most were ever willing to endeavor beyond using them to promote themselves to others. In a darkened world where popularity reigns supreme, my father saw himself as a “Christ-like” prince of darkness: the king of the sacrifice. Though he never spoke of this, at everyone's core is an unified identification (Atman) which would maintain a silent throne, holding down the root of one's personal identity.

This root is that which connects us all to our spirit, for it is that which we would easily be willing to die to preserve. Having found this at such a young age, there wasn't anything the world could throw at my father which could cause him to lose his composure and forget who we was. Above all, this is what defined my archetype of true strength. And so, regardless of how it arrived in my life, I am forever grateful.

“MY MOTHER WAS OF THE SKY. MY FATHER WAS OF THE EARTH. BUT I AM OF THE UNIVERSE, AND YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S WORTH.” – “YER BLUES” BY THE BEATLES

The moment I would recognize this about my father would be the moment that I would be able identify my own personal baseline. However, even if I modeled myself after my father completely, I would be caught off balance by the presence of my mother's influence. Different from my father, my “root” was not of the earth or the air—but of the entire universe. I felt like both of my parents, equally. Being that they were so different, I often sought to discern their energies within myself. Since I trusted my father so much, I looked to him and how he lived his life to develop a pattern or logic which would reveal to me my own method to find balance. In order to do that with any success, I had to become indifferent to my own personal preferences and sacrifice them as my father had done.

As a means to quell his own self-destruction, was forced to turn against his own expectations for the world, sacrificing them like Abraham did with Issac. He had to kill his own ego in order to be able to reclaim his own freedom from the voices which echoed all around him. When he succeeded, he was able to sustain himself off of the energy in his environment, regardless of the condition. It didn't matter if things were favorable or abusive, he was capable of shifting himself into neutral so that he could simultaneously do his “portion” and at the same time consume everything that most people wanted to reject or throw away.

Take Two

JD Stahl (08/02/2016)

I'm the multi-headed male. I'm the snake eating its tail. Statistical alien equations. Pertinent information that I gave you. The all-seeing eye, well it comes and goes. Caging of the sun and changing my clothes. Trapped inside the walls, chained to the stalls. Auto-Egyptian mummies are watching it all. How should I feel when my happiness depends on you? To tell you the truth would cease it to be true. Flash your blue eyes for an honorable mention. The things I like least about myself are what I use for attention. Unmatched punished intentions handed down from Masons. Judgment from legacies and blacklisted from nations. Stuck inside the fishbowl, casting out lines, Writing outlines of clever lines with clever rhymes. Outright lies, our white lines, I'm the outlier. I'm your white knight, dark horse, late night. Dreaming before 3am turned black from white. Screaming soul cries. I'm from louder times. I'm the exception. I'm the outlier.Statistical soul fire. I'm the outlier. Boomerang, bring it back, mouth smacked. Soldier without a waking war. In my sleep I hear you more. From the rock, I've drawn the sword. Masterpiece, written by our masters, pieced together words from distant worlds. The greatness within, pours out under my skin. Open or closed, my eyes still see. Winging birds and family trees. Pray to God. On my knees. Words are falling, world on the brink. Collapsing sentences, vomit in the sink. Two eyes, double mind, second dreaming. Every single thing I do has a double meaning. I'm the exception. I'm the outlier. Statistical soul fire. I'm the outlier.

Observer Bias

“A LAUGH IN THE FACE OF AN ATTEMPT TO TRY AND CONTROL MY CREATIONS. SHAPESHIFT AND TRIP. AN ELECTRON PATH, I’LL RESIST THEIR EYES AND CONCLUSIONS. FROM WHICH, I’LL DRIFT. AN UNAPOLOGETIC PASSION FOR CREATING A RIFT. IT’S A HEARTFELT GIFT.” – “EPHIPHANY” BY JD STAHL

Though I don't believe that my father did this consciously, his household expectations spoke deeply about the patterned consistencies which would eventually help me to recognize the difference between what was to be considered “right” and what was “wrong.” I would observe my father in great detail, not only watching his movements but also decoding his facial expressions and emotional responses.

However, he was so difficult to read most of the time, I was forced to develop a keen eye for the subtleties and flashes between his conscious mind and subconscious instincts. Between those lighting claps was the story of my father—the distance between who he was and who he believed himself to be. In that space was his entire philosophy on life—and all of the answers I would ever seek to know about my personal model for divine masculinity.

His logic and reason, like the flames of the infinite fires themselves, were always changing sides. Scientifically, it would be like attempting to observe the path of a moving electron around a nucleus. Wherever the observer would be, the electron would immediately flee. In this way, no matter what my father did, he could be assured that nobody would even claim themselves above his reasoning. In fact, if at any moment someone would even question him, by doing so they would reveal their own insecurities pertaining to his methods. My father lived within a paradox. Just like nature itself, even the attempt to bottle lightning would eventually only harm the person who tried to “play god.”

Therefore, anyone who tried to circumvent my father's sovereignty would eventually find themselves in a self-destructive state, placing themselves below my father's flow state of paradoxical reasoning. In the span of a 30-minute conversation with my father, I was able to dissect every dimension of his rationality into a philosophy that would rival the Tao itself.

Underneath the aspiration to maintain control, predictability, and preference was the boundary between self and the environment. This, of course, is the straight path (Sunyata) towards transcendence of duality. Rising above any situation, we can all reach an enlightened state. All we have to do is realize that nothing truly “matters;” and by doing so, we release the quark charges which would make any collection of mass or conscious belief to appear so “heavy.”

The Dish in the Sink Philosophy

“RESTLESS SOUL, ENJOY YOUR YOUTH. LIKE MUHAMMAD, HITS THE TRUTH. OH, CAN'T ESCAPE FROM THE COMMON RULE. IF YOU HATE SOMETHING, DON'T YOU DO IT TOO?” – “NOT FOR YOU” BY PEARL JAM

The core beliefs which are consistent in the lives of those we love reveal the most about them. Even if these individuals rarely share their true feelings or their history, all of the information we really seek to know about a person lies in their basic reasoning and rationality for their actions. At the core of each and every one of us is a non-dual foundation which can be applied universally in every single situation. The fewer exceptions and conditions we place in between this foundation and our present moment activity, the greater the power to manifest or “flow” within our external environment. Therefore, there are few greater purposes for introspection than delving into the depths of one's own preferences or subconscious programs.

Within the lines of logic which expose these basic in/out systems lies the mirror image of who we believe ourselves to be. This is the image of our ego, before we allowed our present environment to paint us with their projections. This person is the image of the “stranger” which many of us ever reveal to anyone—not our families, friends, or even ourselves. And yet, this is the image of the individual who is the only one capable of delivering us from our own suffering.

Any moment we find silence or stillness, we “sink” into this core of our being. When we dislike what we see, many of us immediately turn back. Whether we choose popular validation, distraction, addiction, or hide behind what we feel others use for self defense, anytime we look at this “self” and turn away, we must admit to ourselves that we are still maintaining a dualistic perspective of not only ourselves, but of the entire world. After all, if we cannot figure ourselves out, then what chance do we have at attempting to either judge or control how someone else lives theirs?

Personally, after observing my father, I realized that I wouldn't have a chance to better understand and love my father if I ever considered to write him off just because I didn't enjoy his methods as much as he did. Instead of balking or rejecting him, I did my very best to see beyond my own preferences and study the lessons that lay behind what I found pleasurable or uncomfortable. On the surface, however, my young mind was not able to contain the frustration, resentment, and anger that I felt whenever I couldn't meet him at eye level. As a male child, of course, all I ever wanted to do was to eventually be considered his equal (or greater) counterpart.

“I SEE THAT THERE IS EVIL. AND I KNOW THAT THERE IS GOOD. AND THE IN-BETWEENS I NEVER UNDERSTOOD. WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME, I'M CRAZY BUT I GET THE JOB DONE. I'M CRAZY BUT I GET THE JOB DONE. I SAY GO AHEAD AND LAUGH ALL YOU WANT. BUT I GOT MY PHILOSOPHY. AND I TRUST LIKE THE GROUND. THAT'S WHY MY PHILOSOPHY KEEPS ME WALKING WHEN I'M FALLING DOWN.” – “PHILOSOPHY” BY BEN FOLDS FIVE

Unfortunately, no matter what I observed about my father, he always seemed to find a way to switch sides and claim intellectual superiority over me. This, of course, was maddening to anyone who would consistently effort towards dissecting and categorizing something so incredibly powerful—like a model/example for God. Just like such an abstract concept as “God,” my father was both nothing and everything at the same time. In just about every single one of his actions, I was able to see this paradoxical consistency.

For example, if there was a dirty dish in the sink—and it was mine—then I would get approached by my dad, asking me why I left it for someone else to clean. In a sense, I felt as if it was my fault for not washing the dish. Alternatively, if there was a dirty dish in the sink—and it was his—then he could explain the situation in such a way where I would inevitably feel like it was still my fault—not for the presence of the dish, but for the desire to have the sink empty.

This hypocritical explanation was enough to make my head spin from confusion. Essentially, it was like being gaslit with proximal thought. However, once I went beyond my confusion, the answer to everything would appear; all I had to do was to deliver myself from my own preferences or expectations. After my frustration faded, I was able to settle into the place where my father seemed to reside.

What I ended up realizing was that the only thing that he considered to be “wrong” about either sides of this argument was the personal preference which was anything other than accepting things how they were. Between this full “forgiveness” or acceptance of our environment and our objections is a narcissistic expectation to require others to make “sense” to us—mostly so that we can predict when we are able to feel superior to others. In addition, we are also able to respond to our environment in ways which would make us feel less responsible to take upon the will of another's expectations.

Being so sensitive to accusations, I sought both of these things. I wanted to appease my parents, but at the same time I wanted to have power over them—just like any child seeks to do until the age of 7 as they develop the boundaries of a healthy ego structure. Fortunately, I was able to observe my father's Taoist philosophy in that age range, making me somewhat psychological immune to false authority systems, preference, or even conditional love.

It also didn't make a difference that our family home had an automatic dishwasher either. After all, putting the dish in that machine would eventually mean that someone had to empty it. If that person wasn't us, then we would implicitly be requiring someone else to do work which we were not willing to do. To my father, even this wasn't acceptable. Part of his logic meant that he would always find us if at any point we wanted to pass off our personal responsibility or sovereign power to anyone other than ourselves. As a father, he saw this to be the core of personal weaknesses: victimhood.

If there was anything in existence which would soften the composure of a person to place themselves outside free will or conscious decision-making, he would identify it and put his finger on that knot until it was released. Though it hurt at the time, after then numb pain dissipated, we would feel freer than we ever thought possible. Also, as soon as that lesson was learned, and I released my preference, the lesson would be over and all would return to neutrality again. No resentment would ever build up and no grudges could maintain a grip. Nothing mattered more to my father than not having to be put in a cage by someone who would occupy only half of their own self-awareness. And so, from his example, I labored to do the same.

As I applied this reasoning to every other aspect of my entire life—internal and external—many things “spoke” to me in ways that they previously were not capable. Instead of speaking to people or physical individuals, I instead learned to “talk” to their personality characteristics and qualities. I observed pretty much everyone else outside my childhood home to switch sides between states as a means to maintain and validate their personal preferences or to just simply feel superior to someone else.

The Supreme Self

“THE SUPREME LORD SAID, THE INDESTRUCTIBLE, TRANSCENDENTAL LIVING ENTITY IS CALLED BRAHMAN, AND HIS ETERNAL NATURE IS CALLED THE SELF. ACTION PERTAINING TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THESE MATERIAL BODIES IS CALLED KARMA, OR FRUITIVE ACTIVITIES. PHYSICAL NATURE IS KNOWN TO BE ENDLESSLY MUTABLE. THE UNIVERSE IS THE COSMIC FORM OF THE SUPREME LORD, AND I AM THAT LORD REPRESENTED AS THE SUPERSOUL, DWELLING IN THE HEART OF EVERY EMBODIED BEING.” – BHAGAVAD GITA (CHAPTER 8:3-4)

By not claiming either side of the fence—but rather establishing my energy behind the separation of preferences—I associated my “self” as the spirit of acceptance itself, delivering me from dualism. As a result, if anyone attempted to claim power over me, I could just drop my position and return to neutrality. This would consistently cause them to reveal that they were attempting to define “common sense” based on their own selfish preferences. Of course, when this becomes obvious, all reverence, respect, and authority is stripped, leaving only a “request” to appease them. In essence, anyone who tried to be my authority only ended up looking as if they “needed my help.” This dynamic completely obliterated anyone's attempt to claim superiority, authority, or ownership over me.

Essentially, I was invincible to anyone who tried to label or categorize me. As a result, I was able to speak to the most intimate parts of others—alive or dead. This, of course, is the true nature of the soul, unrestricted by either time or space. This is the part of our spirit which is immortal. The archetype of the artist. Unfortunately, not many people are aware of their own dualistic nature. As a result of their denial, these energies are projected upon others in their environment. Those who are sensitive will frequency assume these energies without recognizing their source. As a child, much of my suffering came from feeling responsible for the energies others in my environment were not conscious enough to claim under their personal responsibility.

Satan's Advocate

“I RUN ACROSS THE VALLEYS. I PULL THE CHARIOT ACROSS THE PLAINS. KNIGHT TAKES KNIGHT. THE BLACK TURNS WHITE..” – “CASTLE QUEENSIDE” BY JD STAHL

Sadly, there are many in the world I have seen as taking on the brunt of other people's burdens—emotionally or otherwise. Until we can each recognize the difference between preference and expectation, none of these empathic individuals will be able to free themselves from karmic energy which is not sourced from their own soul. As I had to do in my childhood, I had to adopt my father's ability to brave the suppressed areas of darkness in my mind so I could discern the difference between me (my energy) and the rest of the world (environment).

In order to chariot myself across multiple planes of awareness, I had to become cognizant of the paradox of darkness and light. For me to recognize the darkness, I had to be of light. If I ever felt lost or out of balance, it only meant that I was not able to see myself for the light of my own being. This, of course, would require me to alternate my perception of myself to be somewhat of a “devil's advocate.” The “gift” my father had given me at birth often felt like a burden; however, when I dropped either perspective of the opposites, the answer was the same—and neither. The “home” of my immortal soul—The Supreme Self—was everything and nothing—just like my father.

However, in order for either of us to get to that Supreme Self, we would have to transcend any conditions we had upon another to meet our expectations of who we wanted the other to be. If I couldn't accept him for who he was—or he for me—then neither of us would ever meet that Supreme Self. Reciprocally, we were codependent upon one another; he for his conditions and expectations, and me for my desires for him to be my friend. As a result, I ended up establishing my definition of manhood, opposite my father, to create the balance that he initially brought to my attention with his personal philosophies.

This required me to take on the feminine qualities he was unwilling to embody: vulnerability, sensitivity, and emotional intelligence, which I could tell made him feel emasculated as a male role model and father. Sadly, doing so created the energy of resentment on the surface. What neither of us could recognize at the time was that I was (subconsciously) modeling my love for him as the reciprocal to his love for me. I didn't do this to rebel or become difficult; I did it so that I could honor what he had taught me. However, in order for me to go beyond this mirror dimension, I had to exceed him. Doing so would require me to become more self aware of my own duality—without attempting to use him as an example. In order for me to merge with my Supreme Self, I had to let go of my father entirely and see beyond his dharma in the role as a parent. I had to do for him what he could not do for me: be his friend and love him without wishing he were different.