Pizza-base of happiness

What is (longterm) happiness reliant on?
On me being happy of course.
However, basing happiness on something/someone has a catch. When that something disappears, happiness goes with it.
Soever a bad idea.

Definitely, happiness is amped when I have what I want, and I wouldn’t want to live without what I wanted because that makes me happy.
Want – have – happiness, not-happiness, want – have – happiness, not-happiness, want …
The frequency of life. Roll-er-coast-er.

I pursue happiness. I run after it. Sometimes I catch it. I find that ‘…happiness…’ and I am ecstatically happy. Forever. Yeah really! — ?
I’ve got health, job, girl, cabriolet, aircraft, house, money galore, — G-d am I happy, over the moon. I float in transcendence.
Alas, that is a fleeting ecstasy. It’s a pill. Pills’ effect is not lasting.
Health gone, happiness gone.
Job gone, happiness gone. Girl gone, happiness gone. Cabriolet stolen, happiness gone. Aircraft crashed, happiness gone. House repossessed, happiness gone.
Everything gone, happiness gone with it.

Not being happy doesn’t necessarily infer that I am deadly, depressingly unhappy, but to me, not-happiness would be somewhat vegetating along. What’s the point? To get through a crisis and then find happiness?

Isn’t it that the accomplishment after the successful pursuit of pleasure makes us feel happy? Ahh, satisfaction. The consequence of taking a ‘pleasure pill’ is, well, pleasure, and that’s when I’m truly happy.
Uh, that word truly. Rampantly, crazy happy. Really? Or just overboard, cloud-nine walking till the novelty wears off?

Real, lasting, unblemished happiness is the product of the deliberate thought, “I am happy,” without a condition.
There is no “I am happy if… or when…” there just is “I am happy.”
You gotta beeee happy, you can’t find it. You create it by saying that you are. You instantiate, actualize, effect and realize it.

Wait a sec. How can that be? I need my sailboat to be happy. I need my Yorky to be happy. I need, I need…to be happy. You gotta be kidding me with this “I am happy,” unfinished sentence.
Maybe the great sages can be happy without any condition, but I, hmm?

And yet, whenever I think about it, and lately more often, I think being happy is a disposition, like a pizza base. I need to create the base. Tomato, cheese, olives, and artichokes without a base to put on are like pills, but, when you provide the base you have a real meal in your hands.
A base of happiness garnished with the ingredients of my liking. Now my mouth is watering and life is dancing. Scrumptious stuff.
Unattached and still happy, yeah, and then heap on the blessings.
Don’t just think it, say it out loud,

“I am happy, I am happy, I am happy.”

Now I’ve just created the base.
Words are expressively powerful.

Saying “I am happy” eliminates the desperation to find happiness by pursuing evermore garnishings.
Having an unconditionally happy base, being unarguably happy, un-joggle-able, allows me to gather my focus onto that which is important to me. The amusing thing is that suddenly I don’t want a thousand things anymore but literally just a few, — to make a really delicious pizza of my life.

Happiness is such a solidly good base that any decision reached in that state of happiness can only lead to more of the same.

Happiness from outside is makeup. Admittedly beautifying life immensely, but it washes off. Happiness from within is an unshakeable foundation.

Let’s all set our human cruise control to “I am happy.”
Imagine the impact of all us happy people in the world?


the way of my Life

Rising as a reaction to ruling indifference and indoctrinated acceptance, the question is like a bubble of methane gas released in a swamp. The question comes into existence. The question has a life of its own and a reason to be there.

You’d be moseying along minding some business, probably in semi-automatic mode, and pop, here comes the question:

“Is this the best way I can live my life?”

The question serves to remind us to revisit what we want, — and then compare it with what we have. The wider the discrepancy the more persistent the nagging, to the point where we often become impatient and ignore the question, falling back into inherited mediocrity.

“What am I supposed to do now that I am so deep in it?” you might say.
“I need answers where none are forthcoming and not questions to upset my life even more.”

The question is actually an observation of my own life telling me that the path I am on is not in agreement with what I want. It becomes a billboard above my eyes. Softly interrupting at first, patiently persistent, and eventually pounding me with all the force of pain and frustration when it continues to be ignored. Ultimately, however, even the energy of life will succumb to the anguish of being disregarded and overruled by the mind and retreat into depression and disease.

Why let it get to such a state of stuck desperation?

The moment we acknowledge the message (the billboard) that Life* has, no matter how hopeless we think our situation is, we become our own ENABLER.

When I thus ENABLE, I BELIEVE in Life. My Life.

The only honest, concerned and able guide I have is my Life. Suddenly, as if by some mystical arrangement I will be doing it the way of my Life.
During the times that I follow the way of my Life I am given a limitless view and a feeling of perfect alignment. Nothing is missing. It’s the way. The only way for me, — exclusively only for me. Why? Because I am like none other.
Now the magic happens: I forgive; I am free; I let go; I understand; I help; I decide; I act; I love; I achieve and progress; I create; I win; I am kind; I am complete.

The way of my Life is harmonious and flowing existence. That is happiness. Everything comes together.

In turn, you might have a pertinent question too that you want to ask your Life at the present moment.

Ask: “Life what do you suggest right now?”

Behind the ego and emotion, Life’s answer will be loud and clear.

*Life (with capital ‘L’) an intelligent existence within us with an unbiased concept of our being; an entity or a part of us who guides us to the utmost benefit in the context of our individual super-reality.

It’s chaos, be kind

A quote by the late author Michelle McNamara.

Since I heard it first mentioned by her comedian husband, Patton Oswalt, it’s been like a fishhook, it won’t let go of me.

It’s chaos.
Mayhem, disarray, havoc.

We can argue, and you can “yes but you are so negative,” and “can’t you see the positive things for a change,” …whatever, whatever. I, however, don’t need any more arguments or justifications. Really. When I look just a bit outside my comfort nest the chaos already starts. It becomes frighteningly more chaotic the more and further I look.

Admittedly, there is an immeasurable amount of beauty and wonderful stuff and there is an unfathomable amount of chaos. I don’t even mean the natural state of the universe. I mean the chaos man has created and perpetuates with his mind and ego in the name of anything from religion to power, greed, expansionism, exhibitionism, survival and primeval urges.

All right.
So in my little world, there is no chaos, nor in the worlds of those I associate myself with. I also pot-believe in the critical mass that has swung the scale already in favor of the unchaotic good.
Wonderful blinkers. My head is dug so deep in the sand.
I am such a recluse, living in my mountain wilderness or coastal stilt-log cabin. There, in the natural grandeur and peace, I deal with very different chaos, — not the human annihilating one.

No matter how head-deep-in-the-sand or reclusive I might be, eventually, the energy of chaos will vibrate me out of my oblivion into the contrasting stark reality of now’s chaos.
Eventually, the noise of chaos is even in the water that I drink and sixty percent of my body is high on chaos. Even my virtual world of earphones and screen vibrates to the chaos.

Inescapably I am confronted with chaos and there are times when I even become the personification of chaos. Chaotic is my name, not caring is my game.

To muster the ability and counter chaos with kindness is a remarkable achievement of evolution, of understanding and self-control. That is a deed worthy of headlines, prizes, accolades, and it’s own ‘Noble laureate.’ (Different to the Alfred Bernhard Nobel laureates, — notice the twist in spelling.)

“In the beginning, Man created God.”
Jethro Tull, Aqualung.

It was an ingenious, resourceful idea that has not been surpassed by anything since.
There it suddenly was: this glorious, omnipotent deity. Someone to lump everything onto, blame and exploit. We can now  rinse our hands in ‘innocence.’ We are faultless and ‘It’ is the best-advertised problem coated in the irresistible flavor of a fail-less solution. A marvelous finguck excuse.

It was God. It is God’s doing. It is God’s will. It is for God. My God is the real deal, not yours.
(Replace God with any name that your God is.)
God, God, God.

Since then, whenever it was when we created God, we have been spinning and regurgitating this very frigging broken record. Fervently and aggressively we climb onto pulpits and continue to pronounce God’s eternal life by sacrificing even our own lives and others’, — creating ridiculous chaos in the name of a deity we have enthroned and can dethrone any time, — evading responsibility and absolving ourselves in front of this artificial altar instead of taking ownership, accountability and most of all, being kind.

Some interesting people have had words around this subject: Carl Sagan, Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Stephen Hawking, Michio Kaku, Stephen Fry, Brain Greene etc. etc. and me and you.

The crucial, pivotal moment in one’s own life is when — without the influence of anyone else and brought on by an incessant lifelong pondering, — we realize that God is not the faulty one but that we are entirely the only ones responsible (for all the chaos) and therefore better start practicing to ‘be kind.’

“It’s chaos…”
Kim Jong-un and well-known others, Syria, Iraq, Turkey, Yemen, Somalia, DRC, Isis, Rohingya, refugees, on&on&on. Discord, suffering, and war on an astronomical scale on our tiny earth.
Chaos on the planet: in countries, in tribes, families, businesses, amongst lovers, in the traffic, at concerts, on the sidewalks, — chaos inside you and me.

“be kind”
Kindness incorporates all attributes of caring, compassion, allowance, understanding, even respect towards everyone and everything. Acting from a basis of kindness enables us to respond in a manner appropriate to the circumstances. The alchemy of kindness converts chaos and aggression into caring.

I got the message to be kind, loud and clear, — did you?

As always, this blog voices my personal thoughts and ideas on subjects and does not mean to offend.

Maybe just do

Maybe it’s not about crazily dreaming and over-revving our vivid imagination, giving in to overwhelming passion, following the gut and the heart in galloping frency, — because we all dream and imagine and have passion and gut feelings and heart cravings and go overboard.

Maybe, in the first instance, it is about dealing with and getting through what has been put in front of us, — without too much fuzz and too many objections and complaints, — getting it done.

Maybe, rather than running or quitting, it is about facing and managing the situation we are in, which, in many cases isn’t even of our own doing. We had no say about the circumstances we were born into, and I don’t for the sake of brevity want to get into a discussion here that we possibly did have a choice. If we did would we be here? Case closed for now.

We are confronted, bombarded, exposed, to a reality that is fact and tangible. Here we are and here it is. Blaming anybody or anything else for it, keeps us stuck in the mud. Expecting a special handout because of x, y or z or a silver spoon feeding us, is like sitting my butt on top of glue. I will be going nowhere.

For many of us it is a royal f…up and for even more, it is unimaginable hardship.

Solace cannot be found in anything else but our own doing! Hear ye!

No big black books or decorated buildings or revered figures change anything in our lives. They provide a moral view or guideline.

Change only happens when we deal with the coalface of reality head-on. That is the horror of the moment, of the day, of our life. It’s the ice-cold truth or simply the frequency of life that we must accept and ride.
Argue against it, resist, deny, it still remains an immutable truth despite our rebellion. It is like gravity, but this time it is the gravity of life, inescapable like any gravity is.

Unfortunately for those of us who have created a view of the world so removed from this reality, so beautified and perfected and sublime, we are the ones in collision with reality every time.
Yeah. Bang. Crash. Ouch.

Sometimes asking questions is the most stupid thing to do. Too many questions have no (plausible) answers. I can’t believe myself saying such. The balance of answers to questions is not achievable in our life-time, — face it or forever suffer. A sure way of going in circles or staying stuck is to ask too many questions.

Halt that process of questioning, instead just do.

For a moment or two just do something about that which is in front of you and about that which you can do something about.

Having a master plan for life is a wonderful idea. Remembering, or understanding that life is a living thing and not a ‘rigid’ project on paper is important, because the scope changes or adjusts, — often.

I remain in the firm belief that this Life inside us knows what is best for us and that our circumstances can be different to what they are now. I also know that our mind and ego are not always our biggest assets but hardcore, MMA-UFC* foes we have to do battle with.

Maybe we should ask more often and then listen intently:

”Life, what do you suggest right now?”

* MMA = Mixed Martial Arts the sport
* UFC = Ultimate Fighting Championship the organization.

Tales of a 2nd world

Camino a Q’eswachaca Peru, Inca bridge,
credit: Atlas obscura

Doesn’t everyone spend time in a 2nd world?
I have seen countless faces with that far away look giving me that impression.
The 2nd world: this realm in my mind where I create unobstructed, with immediate results and where I am simultaneously the actor and spectator.
Indefinably vast in the infinity of its potential it enables me to create and experience anything I dare imagine.

In the 2nd world I am the illimitable explorer, inventor, and achiever and I have woken to its possibilities.

I think the 2nd world has all that which renders my ‘this-here-reality’ complete. It’s an escape when the 1st world sucks. No doubt. But, it is not the world of brooding, wishing, expecting and hoping, it is the place of ‘I can’ and ‘I am’ and of success and accomplishment.
A momentary sidetrack about hoping: — along this arduous, slogging, mundane journey, – and what a painfully descriptive word arduous is, — many will tell you to forget about hoping because it’s a losers verb just like worrying, but it is the heart-born seed of what we want. If hoping stays in that transient stage of wishful thinking, between thought and reality, it might not bear fruit, but if it consumes us and inspires action then it is the catalyst it was designed to be. Hope is a wishing uncertainty of wanting to scale over hurdles that exist when I live in the twilight between the two worlds without a bridge.

In the 2nd world, I always am the greatest me.
In the 1st world, I am still becoming to be.

Before I enter the 1st world, I have already perfected, in the 2nd world, what it is I wanted to be and do.
Miraculously, everything I think of, any task no matter how impossibly impossible, is possible and complete and functioning, — and it’s done.

Wishes originate in the 1st world.
Long before they manifest in the 1st world I already indulge them in the 2nd world, — in the fantasy of them being fulfilled.

What it is that I am right now
is what I want to be
And not what I am led to believe
to be defined for me.

This idea or concept of a life pre-defined and pre-determined does not exist in the 2nd world, because, as I think something, it is done. There is no resistance.
To be under some contractual obligation that defines ones life, but whose memory has been erased as we entered the 1st world, is preposterous, ludicrous, jabberwocky tosh.

When I don’t like what I have embarked on in the 2nd world, I can reverse it and adjust it or change it without penalties or karmic debt, — without any repercussions.

The 1st world is like the front cover of a book, the 2nd world is the thousand page story of glory, and vice versa, because the one always substantiates the other.

In the 2nd world, I can become anyone and even anything I want to be at such breakneck speeds, jumping from being A to B to C, that if I’d tell someone else they’d say I am crayzee.
Everything is in the 2nd world. It is the ‘Land of Is.’

You could experience the sheer immortality of being a rock on a mountain:

“Hear ye, I am the rock called ‘Stone D Forever.'”

…go ahead and try being a rock,
or Maya the bee in a hive full of honey.

Nothing stands in my way in the 2nd world. I can become all that is yet unknown and unthought of, stuff so bizarre and remote, because I can make it up instantly. Preposterous stuff. Insane stuff. I can condense and stretch and blow it up, flex my muscles and bowl the world through ten pins down a galactic alley all in a blink and rewrite the front cover of my book with every page I add inside.
It is a limitless world of expression where the core always remains I, while everything else can change. Here I am the master of time unlike in the 1st world where this relationship is reversed.

There is actually only ONE task for us to accomplish:

— To become bridge builders. —

Build bridges between our worlds.
Connect our worlds so we can traverse, travel and transport at will. Nothing else is of any consequence.

What does your bridge look like?
A gondola pulled by a rope, a six-lane highway, a tunnel, a beam?

Build your bridge first, the rest will follow.

My occupation? Bridge builder. Naturally.

occurrent zwing-zwang

“It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.”
Duke Ellington & Irving Mills

Live life in the swing. Yeah.
At the end of a swinging session I do come to rest in the middle, in the stability of the equilibrium, to balance things out in my head.
But, to live my life, I believe I have to swing out.

Sometimes my swing goes right around and I’m back where I started, lumbered with some unwanted baggage picked up in the swing. Occasionally I get into these overzealous swings. They make me think, “WTF happened now?” The troublesome thing is: a round swing can last for years, — ouch.

My swings are multi dimensional and move in a zig-zag pattern. It is not a predetermined pendulum 2D swing like the tik-tok kind, but 3D and snaky and veering in motion: up and down, actually in all directions, and still leading forward, somehow. A kind of a pulsating swing invigorated by popping thoughts. Boi-ng, doi-ng, doi-ng, boi-ng…
To me that is a zwing-zwang, a zig-zag with wings. This type of swing experiences dramatic directional changes in motion but illogically stays zwinging until I settle in the middle again.

The more I zwing-zwang from one extreme side to the other edge in this 3D arena in my head, the more I invoke the potential to walk through the next door in my mind. One could call it psychic scouting down unexplored avenues.

Maybe to clear this increasingly confusing picture up: imagine life happening inside a ball, — the universe, your universe, — within which you zwing-zwang around (like a ‘mad’ (wo)man), looking for doors. That ball is also in motion. Balls always go forward. Any directional change of the ball (the life you are in) is forward or at worst forward to where you started. Notice the omission of the misleading word ‘backwards?’ You can’t go back because you are immediately confronted by time if you would try, telling you that travelling back is not in the big plan.

Anyway, behind the next door is a present I don’t fully know yet and another resting place. From there new reason will present itself to zwing-zwang again and find more doors.

When the doors close and the bridges collapse and doom and gloom besets me, I know I have to zwing-zwang more.

My swing becomes a jump without return (not back!), when I’m done. Like jumping from a springboard into a pool. The oscillating, rebounding board stops without me, the pendulum is still.

When I don’t perform the swing motion in zig-zag, i.o.w. when I don’t zwing-zwang, then I miss places in between which could be doors. The swing-less middle has no interesting doors, it consists of latent energy only, but it can swing me towards the potential, the doors.
Some doors exist where no door is required, like a door standing alone on a path in the mountains opening to the same view I already have.
Those doors serve as a pacifying reminder that there always is an entrance and an exit, which is actually a deception because there is no return (as has been clarified), but our belief tells us differently.

Where and when there are no doors, beware, there could be windows, very large ones, deceiving you into believing that you are free under an open sky.
Even an open sky can close in seconds, like a window shutting, and show you that you are always inside something, perhaps even point out how stuck you are there.

Therefore, there is great benefit and importance to vigorously zwing-zwang in life because that lifts you above the ‘inside,’ presenting you with doors and windows you might otherwise not find and enter and explore.
Once you are lifted above the inside you are suddenly presented with a rudder for your ball, like the foot or hand that has the ability to throw a ball in a chosen direction… forward.

“Finding your step in the swing is the purpose of everything.”
Raiden Germain

Scripted or scripting?

Of course, emphatically, most of us will state that we are the scribe of our script.
A scribe in this sense being this omniscient piece of us that ‘sees all and knows all’ and can, therefore, script the play of our life.
Undoubtedly, this scribe is in charge of direction, events, goals and ultimately results.
Being so all-everything takes a lot of pressure away from the ordinary human being who makes up the rest of that big piece that we are.
I suppose this scribe within us also has to be fed. I imagine the food is the reward of success it achieves through the script.
“Creation feeding the creator.”

Dare I allude to a God-like core within us?
Well, I have decided to dare.
Where there is God you also find Anti-God.
Am I now going too far in my script sketch?
Is this Anti-God just the figment of a split mind?
That belief of the Anti-God comes from much simpler, other examples, like for instance: where there is light there is a shadow. And, has the brightest light not also got the darkest shadow?
Definitely, this world is composed of contrast and opposites, so we all know who or what the contrast to God is.

Back to the scribing part.
The scribe is in cahoots with DNA, evolution, the ancestry chain, and, in collaboration with the mind affects us with an illuminating, motivating and often automated influence.
Can I seriously have any say over what is happening, never mind exercising a veto right?
Who am I then but a puppet in this predefined process? A quasi-liberated pawn, but one who in addition to being conscious and aware also has the responsibility of a conscience flung upon him.
Pawn or not, I certainly am unable to just heed these embedded forces with blinders. I will question them and attempt to dictate my own destination, — for the better or something different.

Clearly, however, there are original, fundamental, immutable parts or ingredients that are manufactured already and that define my motion in life.
So then there is a script, right? Some cloud walkers say that there is a contract. Or, at least, there is this idea that we have been provided with all the tools to survive this life episode.
We wouldn’t have made it this far if our tribe wouldn’t have survived. But, this is where it gets interesting. If it were a ‘survivor’ game, then surely there wouldn’t be so many of us around and constantly increasing? Although, nobody actually survives in the end. We are subjects relegated to keeping the treadmill of life moving. Does it need a conscience for that? Seems like an overkill to me.

The notion of survival, and surviving under all circumstances, also does not apply anymore. It is 2017, for script’s sake. Dog eats dog is for dogs, and an eye for an eye belongs in the Old Testament. When life becomes survival again then the achievement of humanity has slipped through our hands (like, sadly, in so many parts of this planet, for reasons (obvious) and not to be expanded upon here).

I think the primordial drive within, that combination of all the forces and influences that have brought us here, cannot be changed. We should, however, as early as possible, become acquainted with what drives us before worldly influences shape us. That’s why entrants into this life (babies), because of the ‘gift’ of cognitive awareness, should not be chiseled into this existence but allowed to enter gently. Earliest influences are absorbed into the hungry strains of new life as the stepping stones onto the stage of Life. We don’t need another pawn or survivor, we want another free thinker.

So, looking at all of this, I venture to conclude that we can write our own script and we are actually meant to, because, why would we have been given all these ingredients if everything is pre-determined?
Even further: scripts are generally used in movies and they can go into any detail and include as many actors and events as I, the scriptwriter, can imagine.
And, because as we have heard that so much happens in automated mode, I don’t even have to write the script, I just have to direct the movie.

Just as a side note: My written material is never meant to offend and my disclaimer always applies.

While some of the lines in my script are certainly my creation, where did the rest come from that I can’t figure?
My script has run out prematurely, no arguing here.
Could there perhaps be more than one script?
And what if the movie director(Moi) is a flop?
Well, fire him. The imbecile. Get Moi the 2nd.

Here comes a new script:



A handsome, scraggly bearded, shock-headed alternate is holding a brown paper packet, wiping his mustache with his dirty coats’ cuffs, stretching his feet like in rigor mortis.




A lean looking, brown, sophisticated adventurer, resembling the park bench occupant, starts the radial engine of the float plane. His beautiful woman beside him looks on.
He looks at her, their eyes meet and seconds later he switches the plane’s engine off and leans over to her.