Chosen
2026-07-11
I think I need to start doing less shit.
Even less than what I've already been doing—can you believe that? I had to surrender Arthur to the shelter yesterday, so that was a hard day. Somehow I made it through to the next morning, weirdly enough. Life has been a tough series of mistakes, usually driven by impulsive actions. Despite my ability to think through things and possess some intellectual capacity regarding them, I still find myself making mistake after mistake. Forbearance is a tough thing to muster, and despite what might seem like a good amount of it on the outside, there is an immense internal battle being fought that I impulsively decided to wage in public. Even though I spent a year writing Cogito before making it public, the decision to do so was still, ultimately, an impulsive one. I don't think any amount of planning or precognition will ever prevent me from acting on impulse, and I guess that's because I find all actions to be as such. All I can really do is look back, and that sucks.
Still, yesterday was an intense battle in finding the forbearance to push through, to not get mad at anyone, and to act with diligence according to my strengths. While it might be difficult addressing my weaknesses, I try my best not to do so by seeking the esteem of others. That's why everything here is structured the way it is; welcoming engagement when transmitting information only ever invites inner turmoil and a greater demonic battle. I finally got around to reading through the Philokalia—despite lacking any kind of blessing (even though I'm not in a position to receive one yet)—and the words of Saint Evagrius Ponticus have been spiritually enriching, despite the immense difficulties entailed in comparing my life to that of such a great monk. However, I know there is divine providence in reading through his work at this time.
My life these last several years has been an ascetic struggle in many ways. In my rejection of so many worldly pleasures and follies, I have found that even in a safe and controlled environment, the never-ending wrestling with my thoughts can still lead to so much wrongness and evil. The last thing I'd care to do is signal that my life is good in any way, lest I forget to fear and love God; but the edification I received from reading the aforementioned saint has helped me understand further the intricacies of the battle I am contending with. Namely, the saint outlines the three principal demonic forces trying to consume us: gluttony, avarice, and seeking the esteem of others. The easiest of those to fight for me has been perhaps the third, but that's only because I have spent so much time fighting against the first. I've spoken at length on my many vices, and that has been the most persistent demon I've had to fight. When I find one thing quelled, three more come up in its place.
I don't like that I smoke, eat too much, and masturbate—and I find myself in constant conflict with the dopaminergic forces flowing throughout my body. Temperance in those things is difficult to find, and while some stillness can be achieved in prayer, I've found that prayer can't always fix the immediate problems faced in those small but piercing moments like hunger, thirst, and, most especially, the stringent anxiety that comes from being unable to fend off my ever-present maladies. Even though we have been instructed in the ways of unceasing prayer, the stillness found in it just hasn't been there for me. There can be moments of it, most certainly, but I think it's foolish of me, or anyone else, to convince themselves that prayer is what facilitates that stillness. Repentance isn't found in just prayer alone, but in the way it orients us in the actions proceeding it.
The other day I was revisiting Bukowski's poems, most specifically so you want to be a writer? and this kind of fire. From the former, I found this line to be most evocative: "when it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you." From the latter, this one: "sometimes I think the gods deliberately keep pushing me into the fire just to hear me yelp a few good lines."
Man, being chosen really does suck.
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