podfeels tomorrow ahhHHHHHH

trying to organize thoughts.

Somewhere in my early twenties I made the transition from cynicism to stoicism. Which really seemed pretty conventional, as Zeno was a student of cynicism for quite some time. However, my disposition was receptive already before I read William B. Irvine.

After a really intense «bad trip» on psychedelics (obnoxious amounts of 2CB to be specific) I was suffering from some sort of depersonalization (which according to Jung is what people call ego death). As I was in this state I had a lot of clarity, though of course also an uncomfortable numbness, to life and its constructs, which made me feel very alienated. I felt somewhat like the main character in The Stranger by Albert Camus or Outline by Rachel Cusk.

However although this state of being was very «aware», it was painful. And the deeper awareness which followed is that truth does not serve man, and that truth is not a meaningful pursuit. This point being even deeper etched into my soul as I read The Idiot by Dostoyevsky, where in a conversation between Prince Myshkin and Agalya, the latter says something along the lines of: «You are unfair as you only tell the truth, and the truth is cold».

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Experiencing self vs. narrating self and socratic virtue.

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