[Guy Liddell:] I asked [Igor Gouzenko] how it was that Russia had been going on in its present state for 28 years and how it was that the Russian people fought so well. He said that if I had been brought up on Marxian dialectics from the age of 6, if I had heard nothing but Soviet press and radio telling me that conditions abroad were far worse than any conditions in Russia, in fact that the rest of the world was living in squalor and revolution, if I had known what it was to walk down a street with my best friend and feel I could not talk freely, and if I had had no opportunity of comparing my standards with those of anybody else, I should have been thinking as he did before he came to Canada.

Christopher Andrew, The Defence of the Realm

Tomorrow

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, Ex to Lovers!AU, implied College!AU

Word Count: 1.7k

Request: No, this is just me taking another bit of my parents' love story and turning it into a Yoongi fic lol

Summary: Running into your ex at a club and acting as if you're doing great without him? Nailed it. Controlling your tears once the two of you parted ways again and stopping your best friend from going up to scold him for making you cry? Well...

But hey, you'd have to thank her later.

“What did you tell Y/N, you dick?”

If Yoongi hadn't turned around at the sound of your name being so loudly said, with the intention of him properly hearing it over the booming music in the club, he sure as hell did when that same question was followed by two harsh taps on his shoulder; turning around with furrowed eyebrows, only to grow even more confused after seeing your best friend standing right in front of him looking like she was about to kill him any point by then.

“What are you talking about?” he cluelessly wondered.

Your friend exhaled in frustration. “She ran into you earlier and she's been outside crying for the past five minutes” she informed him. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing bad?” he pouted in confusion. “I just told her I was here with my friends having fun and that was it”.

“You absolute moron” she ran her hands over her face. “Go fix this”.

Yoongi scoffed – disbelief written all over his face. “What? I just told you I d–”

“Okay, stay here” she let him know she was having none of it with a shrug, gazing over Yoongi's dumbfounded friends before locking eyes with him once again, “just know your ex is outside crying because of you”.

With that, she turned around to leave a very stunned and conflicted Yoongi.

Ex, that word being used in reference to you still feeling so surreal. So damn… wrong.

His friends tried their best to stop him from going to you – not only because they saw their plans for the night about to be ruined, but also because they knew going to comfort the one person you had dated for so long and were still not completely over was not the healthiest of decisions when you were trying to move on with your life.

However, no matter how hard they tried to convince him not to, Yoongi ended up walking outside of the club anyway; zipping his jacket all the way up as soon as he was hit with some light rain and the cold breeze of the night, before his eyes quickly looked around for you.

It took him less than four seconds to find your figure a few meters away from him, sitting down by the wall of the building with your legs hugged to your chest and your face resting on your knees, as the only thing protecting you from the rain was an ocean blue jacket he did not recognize as yours.

Although he could not see your face, the sight of your body trembling with each breath you took was enough to make his heart clench.

Any other time, he would've scolded you for being unwary enough to be outside of a place like this all alone at past two in the morning. What he did now, however, was pushing that protective instinct of his aside and walk over to you – taking a seat by your side on the already wet floor and remaining silent for a few seconds, as he tried to find the right words to say, or at least to make you acknowledge his presence.

“So much for being great, huh?” he let out after what felt like forever to try and light up the mood, instantly realising he had done the exact opposite when you sat up straight to look him coldly as ever in the eye.

“You're such a jerk” you bit back, pressing your hands down on the floor so you could stand up.

“Wait, no” Yoongi stopped you by grabbing your wrist. “Sorry” his eyes searched for yours – his heart aching once again after realising how red and puffy they were, “I didn't know what to say”.

“Anything but that would've been nice” you shook your head, snatching your arm away from his hand. “Go back inside, Yoongi. I want to be alone”.

Only you did not, and he knew it, which is why he paid no mind to your words. Nevertheless, he understood he wasn't the best of companies for you right then, and so he decided to respect that and keep his distance from you.

“I honestly thought you were doing fine, Y/N” he confessed softly. “You were so bubbly when we ran into each other and–”

“It's called putting on an act” you cut him off, remaining just as cold as you were before. “I wanted to be mature about our breakup, but I had just ended up face to face with my ex in a club, who started rubbing it in my face just how much fun he was having with his friends, how do you think I felt?”

A loud, annoyed scoff escaped Yoongi's mouth at your words. “You were out with your friends having fun too, do I have to remind you?”

You shook your head, resting it on the wall not to look at him. “It's different”.

“Please enlighten me” he huffed, shaking his head as well.

“Because we're here for different reasons” you simply stated, instinctively locking eyes with him to make your point more clear. “I'm here in hopes of getting my mind off you by dancing with my friends or even, if I'm lucky enough, to meet someone who will finally help me get over you” you confessed; being so caught up in your own feelings that you missed the way his eyes had filled with hurt at the mention of you and someone else, “whereas you're here just because of that… to have fun with your friends” you shrugged, feeling your vision become blurry again. “So I'm sorry I'm here and I ruined your night, it was never my intention. Maybe to you four months is enough to get over a three year relationship, but not all of us can be so good at moving on” you finished rather bitterly.

“You think this has been easy for me?” his eyebrows knitted together before he squinted his eyes. “You really believe I can get over you and what we had just like that?”

“Isn't that what you so happily said when we met inside?” you tilted your head questioningly, and, although you had tried to seem threatening, your voice betrayed you by coming out as nothing but a soft whisper.

“You're not the only one who knows how to put on an act” he mumbled, lowering his head for he didn't have enough courage to say that while looking into your eyes.

“What's that supposed to mean?” you asked not even a second after, your heart urging to know the answer.

Yoongi inhaled deeply, throwing his head back and closing his eyes; allowing the faint drops of water to directly hit his face for a few seconds before the rain became stronger.

“Come on” he pushed your previous question aside, “I'm taking you home”.

You saw your chance of ever getting to talk things out vanish right in front of your eyes when he stood up in silence, letting you know the conversation was over the moment he reached his hand out to help you up to your feet.

“Yoongi…” his name being said ever so softly by you did something to his heart.

It had almost sounded as if you were scared you would never see him again. And you were, which is why you hesitated to hold his hand, somehow feeling that if you did then that would be it; that if you did take his hand, he'd drop you off at your place and you'd see the last of him.

Yoongi sighed after a few seconds of you doing nothing but absently stare to his fingers, not needing anything else to know what was troubling you so much.

That was the reason he kneeled down in front of you, gently cupping your face to reassuringly let you know: “We're both vulnerable right now. Let's talk about this tomorrow when our minds are clearer, yeah?”

You bit the inside of your cheek at his proposal, brightening up not only at the glimpse of hope his words had brought to you, but also because you knew then he didn't want this conversation to be over and forgotten either. So, nodding your head with a sweet yet weak smile of your own, mirroring the one that had just curved up his lips, you allowed him to place his hands on your upper arms as he finally helped you up.

“Let's go” he held your hand tightly to drag you with him.

“Oh, wait!” you stopped him right after you had unconsciously hugged to your body the jacket you were wearing. “I should leave this here”.

“But it's raining” he spoke in a pout. “I'm sure your friend will understand if you take it, you can give it b–”

“Oh, it's not my friend's” you denied his beliefs immediately, “a drunk guy lent it to me earlier”.

“Say what again?” his unamused reaction earned a chuckle from you, being completely oblivious to the way Yoongi's heart had jumped at the sound of your laugh after all those months.

“I don't even know who it was, maybe I know him from campus” you shrugged, starting to slowly take the warm piece of clothing off, “he just sat by my side and started talking to me while I cried, and when it started raining he just put his jacket on me and left”.

“What a heartwarming story” Yoongi said cynically, causing you to roll your eyes. “But yeah, let's just leave it here so he can find it later” he took it from your hands so he could place it somewhere not entirely wet because of the rain yet, later turning around as his hands moved to unzip his own jacket, “you can have mine for now”.

This time a giggle escaped your mouth, making yourself comfortable inside his cozy clothes with his help. “Jealous much?” you pushed it before you could even stop yourself – for a moment there having felt like things were back to what they once were before.

Much to your relief, Yoongi didn't mind it at all. If anything, he smirked, rushing to pull up the zip until the black fabric was slightly hovering over your mouth.

“Tomorrow” he stated calmly – his action of pulling the hat attached to his jacket over your head keeping him from catching the sparkle that had just showed up in your eyes. “We'll talk about us tomorrow”.

The Will, extreme nondual/immanentist practice, initiations, and responsibility. Amma, Shiva, Kali, the medicine of stillness, awareness, witnessing.

The difficult path of taking your life into your own hands, making your own judgements about what's valuable, using your own heart instead of blind dogma as your moral compass, the world as Scripture, being aware of all the tremendous power you have, and then truly manifesting the Divine as the Goddess you are--not just *saying* it but living it, whatever you want to call it, extreme “I Am That”, “Samsara is Nirvana,” “Do What Thou Wilt,” really walking the talk--

You know what that is?

It's fucking terrifying. That's what it is.

And if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, especially if they try and sell it as just sitting there peacefully with a smug and radiant smile--that’s not the entire story they’re telling you (or then they’re so out of touch with this world that you’re better off walking away from them very slowly). Or they’re of the sort that’s sitting there happily imagining everything’s an illusion and they’re smiling because they’re so high on that--on the opium of it all being a big play, a big joke (which is fair enough; I like Amma and she’s like that). 

But you know what? Opium is a painkiller, and they’re milking their inner poppies exactly because deep inside, 

it is all 

still 

frightening 

as 

fuck.

Even Amma’s charity work began from anger at being so appalled at human suffering. And Shiva himself, white as poppy milk, is a painkiller, and I will get to that a bit later. But let me digress here for a bit, since we mentioned self-initiations earlier.

You will be frightened when you realise your full power. Especially--since we were talking about initiations--after having had that power of yours affirmed by an external source, you know you can't pretend you’re an inexperienced idiot any more, can't run away from it all any more. Because when you self-initiate (which *is* legitimate, as is spontaneous enlightenment), it has its own problems. One of the biggest ones being this: exactly because of the “you’re a fraud” crap from outsiders, because of everyone outside of you thinking you’re not *quite* ready anyway, it *can* give you an excuse to fall back on that when the shit hits the fan. If you fuck up, you can lean back on that and lisp “ok, yeah, I guess I wasn’t ready for so-and-so after all. I guess even that big, epic enlightenment experience I had as a kid when staring at the sky, and that spiritual explosion I had that other time when I felt my pulse beating as one with the Earth’s, weren’t somehow enough. Maybe I really do not have enough skill yet.” 

Which is bullshit. Those experiences don’t magically become less valid if you fuck up. Which we all do sometimes. You do have the power. It’s not gone anywhere. You’ve always been Divine.

But our minds *love* excuses, and one of the main reasons behind all these passage rites and initiations (hell, all rituals) is exactly because they hit your brain harder when things are made Official. The human brain loves symbols and rituals; animals have rituals. So we work with symbols and rituals because Ug the Cavewoman inside of us all really gets off on a big-ass bonfire. And rites of passage serve to tell you that you’re grown up, now; that it’s time to leave the previous stage of your life behind; to lay down that shit, completely forget about *that* shit, and take this shit, and that shit, and the upcoming shit over there seriously. 

Initiation is a part of what teachers are all about: it’s an external person doing the same thing you *could* do yourself, but because they are good at it due to practice and knowledge, and because your funny monkey mind thinks that they’re Special (even though they are the part of the same goddamn Force), it will hit you harder. Just like legal documents are just ink and paper, but once you sign them, everyone’s forced to take them more seriously than had you just said those words out loud. And because we’re all parts of Nature, an initiation is ultimately Nature patting herself on the head: you only *feel* that it’s someone else placing her hand on your head and your funny little monkey mind is ripped open and goes “whoa.” 

Funny, ain’t it?

And there are different initiations for different times. These are all different for everyone, depending on your spiritual makeup, personality, whatnot. Some great soul can just snap into Goddess mode just like that; the power just opens up and that’s it. They’re born with the hardware for that software upgrade. But more often than not, what you hear from quite a few interesting people, is that their journey has always been a mix of spontaneous enlightenment (self-initiation), visions, and then someone else giving them teachings, the world itself acting as their teacher once you’ve reached a certain point (it’s all a matter of opening your eyes to it--if Nature is your divinity instead of someone hard to reach high up on a cloud, removed from the world, it’s easy to tune in to that station and listen). There’s also truth to the old cliche that once the student is ready, the master will appear. But in the meantime, there’s no need for despair, because--and I repeat--the knowledge and the gurus and the wisdom are already within your reach, and you just need to open your mind to the possibility that there’s a teaching in everything.

But again, I digress. The point I wish to make here, in the middle of this crazy, crazy neo-conservative culture where people are obsessed with “authenticity” and initiations and authority (and I see a lot of you young people suffering because of it) is that it’s *not* a sign of your unworthiness if you can’t find a physical teacher, let alone afford the journey to see one in a different part of the world, or attend one of those godforsaken 750e ~weekend intensives~. It’s easy to talk about initiations when you live in fucking San Francisco or Boulder or New York or London, or a culture where there are mystics around every corner! But if one knows anything about the nature of the world (I don’t want to say “privilege,” but I am saying “privilege”), one also knows that great teachers don’t grow on trees. As someone who’s lived in very remote areas herself, in incredibly spiritually sparse cultures, I know the reality of how difficult it can be to find even fellow devotees, let alone great teachers. So if you’re living in Bumfuck, Novaya Zemlya, it’s going to be more difficult for you because you’re going to have to go the way of books (please, do read books, old books, pre-2000 books; the Internet is full of really, really poor-quality and watered-down and contaminated “information,”) and learning from friends and family and the world to get your learning and evolve as a person. But that doesn’t mean attaining (or, rather, rediscovering, re-linking yourself to the Divine) is not possible, and there have *always* been individuals who were great souls in the middle of nowhere. It’s just that they lived and died without the world knowing of them, because they lived in jungles, tundras, deserts.

Thankfully, in this day and age of the jet engine, there are amazing teachers who can travel the world (especially Amritanandamayi, to whom I’ll get in a bit, who has embraced 30+ million people and is doing it somewhere right now), but even then, it’s going to be difficult to find the right one. If you’re following a rarer path, especially a world-affirming and sex-positive path, these teachers may not even exist, and there are so many abusers out there in those paths that, especially if you’re female, it’ll actually be safer for you to not go near *any* of those guys. (But just because you have to do it on your own, that’s not an excuse for you to be an egotist, either--rather, it’s a burden, because it will make things even more difficult for you because you have to watch out even harder for your ego. Being different is a quick way to feeling you’re a special snowflake, a great adept who knows The True Way, and the shelves of esoteric bookstores are lined with masturbatory works by people like that.) 

On the other hand, the right teacher may well exist, but you’re not ready for them yet. I wasn’t ready for Amma when I was an angry teenager rebelling against all organised religion and a cynical twentysomething who’d seen it all by then; I am still not a fan of the elements in her teachings that are aligned with mainstream Hinduism and I still don’t believe a 4-year-old dying in agony from leukemia deserved it because she cheated on her husband in a past life. But I did not know the level of her universalism, then--I did not know then that she didn’t care if I accepted that or not, but that what I *did* accept--my own path--was the most important thing, and that she would only tell me to dive deeper into that. When I first heard of her, I shrugged it off because I knew how most Hindu gurus, just like most Hindus in general, are pretty conservative and most certainly aren’t fans of Pagans or Tantrics (if that sounds contradictory to those of you who don’t know much about religion on that side of the world, extreme Tantrism is as anti-dogma and as far removed from conservative Hinduism as feminist witchcraft or Satanism are from fundamentalist Pentecostal Christianity. And the worst and most visible types of Tantrics are massive abusive, black-magic-fetishising, conceited, violent assholes way beyond what an American highschooler wanking over childish “left-hand” books can imagine, so Hindus have reasons to dislike them/us). Most Hinduism is focused on escaping the world and the cycle of birth and rebirth, not about venerating it all as the Goddess (only a small handful of Tantric/Bhakti cults and individuals do the latter, and their role is exaggerated in the West). But when I heard from one of her disciples that she had a temple to Kali in her ashram and had done extreme nondual sadhana herself and that she equated Nature with God and sounded like Ramakrishna more than any of the stuck-up gurus, and when I saw just how 100% affirmative she was about everyone being different and that being a *strength,* and how she did *not* force anyone to accept those mainstream Hindu (or any other) ideas about religion, and was--at her core--about only absolute, immanent love, having dedicated herself to supporting every goddamn soul on this planet and not judging them or even thinking about their “sins” but just affirming the divine spark in everyone--was I ready.

Now, Amma gives mantra initiation (mantra diksha) to each and every soul who asks. That’s pretty much the most accessible initiation from a spiritual master (and full-time 24/7 channel of the Goddess) one can get in the world right now. I can’t think of anyone else of that level who does it so universally for everyone on that kind of global scale, regardless of your religion, without imposing hers upon you--*you* choose the deity or the concept you want a mantra for (atheists have asked for a mantra for love or compassion, and so on). She doesn’t want to make you into a Hindu unless that’s your path; she wants to make you go deeper into your own faith/practice. The diksha itself will be over quickly and you’ll be pushed and shoved through the crowd, and it will probably feel like a downer, but you’re nevertheless walking away with a gem. The value of a mantra given by someone who really Gets It, on that Ramakrishna-but-female level of equal vision where she can kiss a leper’s wounds and initiate someone as antinomian and as erotic in her practice as yours truly without a shred of judgement but rather the message “well, go forth and do it *properly,*” can’t be overemphasised.

But, like I said before, there's no turning back after that, so ask yourself if you really *are* ready for that initiaton, whatever form it will take. A guru, or being ravished by a trickster god on the edge of sleep, anyone else. You don’t fuck around anymore after that. Perhaps you’re self-initiated and don’t fuck around either, so that’s good. But just know that whatever it ends up being for you, it will be a big-ass turning point and that even after that, fear is normal. Real initiation, when it happens, will be Huge. Perhaps you’ll only feel it as something subtle at first, but it will be Huge later, trust me.

[Amma being what she is, she half snuck it upon me--I should've realised that this was her way (with me) at mantra diksha already, when I'd asked for what I thought was a handy kitchen work knife and she gave me a fucking chainsaw instead. But it was only two years later, when she bestowed nama diksha (name initiation) upon me (and all kinds of other, unexpected things and life-changing things besides, that same moment, similar to the damned chainsaw thing) that I really had to come to terms with the fact that this was fucking *it.* I could not sit the fuck around any more; that’s why you have this blog. Decades of mostly private devotions were ripped open and even old and fucked-up poems written in the style of self-torturing bhaktas/Sufis wanting to be crushed by the Beloved, poems which I knew people would misinterpret, were poured out as acts of bhakti (but that's another post entirely; either on some spiritual masochism as an offering of one's neuroses to the gods or on how I will never understand how the Tumblr generation/culture can be so obtuse as to forever and always think the author=her works, I haven't decided yet). Besides, I thought I was dying by that point anyway, so I didn't have much time left for faffing about in any case. I suspect the clever bitch might also have given me some extra time on this planet as well, so that I could make the most of it in Kali's service--well, I *had* asked for her to help me become Kali’s instrument, just NOT ON THAT LEVEL, HOLY SHIT, WHAT THE FUCK--but that's how these things go with her and myself, it seems. Whether it’s just the hug, or a mantra, or a name, or an answer to a question, she gives you more than you ever think you deserve, and then some. She hugs you but she also punches open your heart if that’s what has to be done, delivers a mighty defibrillator-blast of energy to wake up your own heart-power like a goddamn volcano and then gives you That Look and a conspiratorial smile that's basically all "That's it, kid; you've got it. Now, don’t fuck it up.”]

That realisation, that unveiling of your own power is going to be a bomb going off, blasting you to bits and then glueing you back together with irradiated mutant powers.

And if you *don't* feel awed, afraid about it--if you don't feel "shitshitshit" about it on a regular basis--

--Then I'm afraid you are a narcissistic, egotistical, privileged git who hasn't experienced awareness more than halfway, if that. You are the spiritual equivalent of someone running around with scissors, but unaware that you are doing so. You need to go back. You need to dig into the 101. And only when you’ve shat yourself, can you come back.

True awareness, true power, true understanding of your Divine Self comes with a crushing, devastating responsibility that you feel you can't handle at times--and feeling this is a good sign, because this kind of feeling is not likely to happen without empathy. If you do have empathy, if you truly do understand just how intricately everything in this universe is interconnected and just how human delusions, idiocies and oppressions--especially self-inflicted oppressions--work, you will feel like absolute rubbish and helpless and small.

This is why so many yogis, so many intelligent empaths, so many hypersensitive people are so fucking angry all the time. It's not that they are crap at knowing the Self, crap at knowing Reality. It's that they are all *too* aware of it all, and it stinks.

But it’s what you do with that pain that is the enlightened part, the divine action, the divine embodiment. Awareness is the ignition, suffering is the fuel, your heart is where the combustion takes place, and your body/mind is the vehicle. It's that pain that impels you on, the whip at your back, the tack on the chair that makes you jump up and do something about it all. It is what makes you strive for the ecstasy of love all the harder, for establishing more of that love and that awareness in the world around you; it makes you work until exhaustion to make at least one little corner of this world less of a dark and miserable place.

In fact, you can say pain is the very catalyst of transcendence.

And by transcendence, I always mean the transcendence of human, societal idiocy and the suffering it's caused, not this beautiful world and embodied existence that is the Goddess. People have mistaken suffering, wounds and illness for the entirety of the world and the body for too long; they’ve mistaken human/societal crap for all there is; when in reality, we/the world are much more than that. Even physical pain and death are but opportunities for us to transcend them through analysing how we approach them, and how we could do that more fruitfully; how we could get something even out of these things to make the world less miserable a place. They're nothing but buttons that switch on the turbo mode for your capacity for intense empathy and compassion--for example, a temporary illness limiting your motor abilities making it easier for you to understand people with 24/7 limited mobility. 

After you’ve understood that, there’s no excuse. 

You have to, as they say, feel the fear and do it anyway.

***

This terror, too, is Kali. She cuts and smashes and chews and rips and tears and stomps away at everything until it's all a bloody, painful mess; but it's all ultimately in the service of liberation, of cleaning things up. She’s the doctor who lances the boil, the surgeon that cuts out the tumours. And at the end of that bloody stampede, the only way out of the pain and confusion that’s the battlefield of existence, the only way out of her drunken, righteous battle-rage is Shiva: pure consciousness, pure witnessing, pure Love offered, waiting for her to join her power with his stillness. In an extreme state of one-pointedness, become but Awareness--symbolised by the erect, ready linga pointing towards her--he awaits until she sits down upon him, lover into womb, babe onto breast, whichever version you prefer--and the world *snaps* back together again, the pieces fit together perfectly again, and there's but the Whole. Nature reels contented, beyond dualisms and permeated with the blissful peace of Awareness; her tongue--rajas, the active principle in the world; action, drive, passion--rolls out to point to her heart, the centre of All.

And it's that dance of chaos and destruction that is the human world, the world of society, and it's *supposed* to feel bloody terrifying if you have a heart; only Love-permeated pure Consciousness can ever anchor us within it, snap us out of it, too, to return us to the Whole. Only stillness, only calmness, only Love given with strength and integrity. Not a neurotic love or a possessive love or an overly self-sacrificing love, but a love that is about wholeness, about equalising, about balance. It’s only apt that it’s symbolised by the phallus because it’s far less vulnerable than the yoni, far more difficult to abuse and to hurt. It’s love that stands on its own, as it were, the Beloved given the freedom to do whatever She wishes with it, taking what she needs, at her own pace, in the way that satisfies her, without hurting herself or him. Revolutionary. In a world where the opposite is the default--women’s and other givers’ and carers’ bodies and souls being abused and exploited in the name of love--it’s an idea worth contemplating, realising, embodying in one’s thought and action. A love that stands on its own and gives without diminishing, without being enslaved, vampirised. 

But you can only be that, you can only give that if you are Consciousness and if you are Still and a Witness to the craziness outside--when you start thrusting too hard into things, thinking you’re just trying to love (but are only really satisfying your own desire/ego/dick), you’ll end up hurting the recipient and that’ll trigger a cycle of pain that will end up hurting you too. Only if you can contain yourself, *then* will the energy sit down with you peacefully. And together, now a balanced whole, can you get to work. Only that stillness, only that patience, only that witnessing is the opium that enables even the cripple to walk--Kali the doctor, Shiva the medicine both working hand in hand, linga in yoni, soul in body, consciousness in matter.

***

So, it's not about being not terrified. It's not about never feeling crazy, weak. It's about knowing all that and going ahead anyway because you've got work to do.

There are enlightened, supremely intelligent beings out there who are, in some part of their seemingly serene bodies, absolutely fucking *shitting* themselves and screaming with fear, and/or running amok, absolutely batshit crazy; but it's just that they hold on to the consciousness, the anchor, identify with the Shiva principle so tightly that they seem calm. They may even be in great pain, but the pain is but fuel for them and drives them ever onwards, even with gritted teeth and bloodied feet.

And that's the vast majority of what they call enlightened existence. Not necessarily a state of being permanently blissed out, but one permanent internal scream of 

--AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--

--and going forth into the world anyway.

Awakening

Anxiety and depression can be crippling and in the worst case scenarios even spiral to the depths of suicide so it comes as no surprise that those facing them see the avoidance of such as a mere matter of self preservation - as primitive as instincts to eat, sleep and keep sheltered. As someone who has personal experience with depression the best I've can arrange words to describe it are inspired by and cited below (reworded) by pulitzer prized novelist Donna Tartt. Depression doesn't even begin to describe what even Shakespeare himself could not. Anyone who has felt heartbreak knows that even excruciating physical pains are nothing compared to those of the soul. If Byron, Proust and Shakespeare fail to do it justice then why even try? Because I, like all writers have the same goal - to describe a universal human experience in my own words. I use other great writers as inspiration with hopes it might enrich even one reader's life in a way no other writer has been able to do. My two biggest influences, David Foster Wallace and Donna Tartt have touched my soul and enriched my life in ways no other writer could and consequently become my most kindred spirits THE DARKNESS It dawns unexpectedly as an unendurable sopping black curtain of horror. A psychic darkness like nothing you've ever dreamed. It is an icy plunge encompassing sorrows and revulsion far beyond the personal: a sick, drenching nausea at all humanity and human endeavors from the dawn of time. The writhing loathsomeness of the entire biological order. Old age, sickness, suffering, death. No escape for anyone. Even the young, the famous, the beautiful are like soft fruit about to spoil. And yet somehow people keep breeding and popping out new fodder for the grave, to suffer...like it was some kind of redemptive, or good, or even somehow morally admirable thing: dragging more innocent, sentient creatures into this lose - lose game. Squirming babies and plodding, complacent, hormone drugged moms. Oh, isn't he cute? Awwwww. Kids shouting and skidding in the playground with no idea what future Hells await them: boring jobs and ruinous mortgages and bad marriages and hair loss and hip replacements and lonely cups of coffee in an empty house and a colonoscopy bag at the hospital. -DT You begin to hate yourself for the same reasons you are unique and interesting and beautiful. You just wish you were like everyone else, like those that seem satisfied with the thin decorative glaze and artful stage lighting that, sometimes, make the bedrock atrocity of the human predicament look somewhat more mysterious or less abhorrent. The mornings are the worst because the new day brings only more angst and fear, you can't find the same hypnotized complacency that others do in meaningless chores and busy work. Cursing yourself, cursing God for keeping you from enjoying the things others find so fascinating. You begin to curse others too, you curse them because they are enjoying the life you can't. Their time, which is the true equalizer - the one thing you may have more of than others regardless of class, money or social standing - is now literally worth more than yours. Why? Because at least someone is enjoying their time. People gamble and golf and plant gardens and trade stocks and make love and buy new cars and practice yoga and work and pray and redecorate their homes and get worked-up over the news and jog and fuss over the children and gossip about their neighbors and pore over restaurant reviews and support political candidates and dine and travel and distract themselves with all kinds of gadgets and devices, flooding themselves with information and texts and communication and entertainment from every direction to try and make themselves forget it: where we are, what we are. But in a strong light there is no good spin you can put on it. It is rotten, top to bottom. -DT Putting your time in at the office: dutifully spawning your 2.5, smiling politely at your retirement party; then chewing on your bed sheet and choking on your canned peaches at the nursing home. It was better to have never been born, to never have wanted anything, to have never hoped for anything. All this mental thrashing and tossing gets mixed up with recurring images, PTSD, half dreams, nightmares, regret, self pity and bad decisions self perpetuating it all. You become callous, hollow to the core, fragile, desperate and scared to death of some unknown impending doom. Maybe those of us who experience depression and anxiety were born more in-tune and emotionally robust. I imagine we are much less easily distracted from the realities of the biological trap and the inevitably of humanity’s rampant, relentless human suffering. The more clearly we see it, the more cynical our worldviews become and the more we seek an escape. This feeling, perhaps just a phase, perhaps a lifelong trap, is an unfortunate disposition that is distinctly dark, dysphoric and anhedonic. For some, sadly, it grows into a complete inability to enjoy life or feel anything for that matter, which is an almost peaceful void in comparison to the next stage - a complete inability to endure life - to which the only escape is the eternal. Luckily there is a remedy, but it is a gift given without prejudice. The gift can best be described as an awakening. It is either written in our destiny or not, we do not chose our paths. I'm not sure where it comes from or who chooses the intended recipients, but it manifests as nothing but a belief. Not a truth nor explanation, just an unquestionable knowledge that love is the whole meaning, nothing more, nothing less. A telltale sign of those given the gift is an almost visible glow, a palpable charisma that makes them magnetically comfortable to be with. The good news for those who suffer from depression is that same emotional pain you have endured is exactly what will make the gift a possibility. This awakening is far from true enlightenment or Nirvana but rather a freedom from seeking. Those emerging from the darkness no longer need the mindless distractions that occupy the other people. They can finally begin to find enjoyment in the things money can't buy. They don't need new cars or Paris or a yacht or Las Vegas because they have sunsets, the ocean and a child's laughter. In conclusion, my best metaphor for it..the realization you are actually wearing the pair of glasses you were frantically looking for the past 20 minutes. Joy without pain, hope without despair etc. To anyone out there struggling with depression or feeling hopeless, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, you will find the happiness and meaning you seek, just don't give up, know you are not alone and don't forget to look right in front of your face.

Karadin and the Morality of Witcher 3

This was a discussion about the Karadin storyline in the Witcher 3 Game.

First: This quest reminds me of the first Witcher and the grey morality it had on most of the choices.

If you let Lambert kill Karadin you get rid a a man trading slaves, responsible for the death of others but at the same time you leave a wife and two kids without the person they love and the charity he was helping without funds.

There's technically not a good choice, you have to pick the lesser evil.

Second: The guy is a silver-tongue - he's good with words and is smart with a cynical mind; these kind of people are great as allies but even worse as foes: Always kill them when given the chance or you'll regret it later when they betray you.

First: Right now I literally have two savestates having completed the quest both ways - this one is a real gut-wrencher.

Reading facial expressions and having gone through all the dialog options this is Karadins profile.

From a facial expression point of view - he doesnt lie. Doesnt mean that he isnt lying - the game just isnt showing it to you. When you decide to kill him - he aggros with "I want to live" - no anger or remorse that his "ruse didnt work".

The "you are expected, come in scene" and the "this is my family staged scene" is highly suspicious - but Karadin himself shows relief and upbeat anticipation upon meeting you.

His side of the story adds up in as far as the "real killer" shows signs of depression, alcohol abuse and disillusionment. After something broke her character.

Second: His side of the story seemingly doesnt add up in as far as he portraits the victim.

Together with the letter you find, which shows him wanting to break ties with his former colleagues, but at the same time hints at other possibilities for prolonging the slave trade - Paints a pretty distinct picture.

First: He has changed his life. For real. He feels a little remorse towards killing your pals friend - but this is almost circumstantial -- but then again this might be ok. But his motivations for changing his life seem to be not remorse or guilt based, but to come from a desire to lead a new life.

He cuts the ties to his old group in a very distinct way - but without instilling in them a sense of betrayal ("there are other merchants in Novigrad, ...").

Second: When he talks about his wife praying every day for him "and it maybe even seems to help" this is his own self image reflecting.

The philanthropy part - we can ignore - it comes with being a wealthy business man - and how he wishes to portrait himself (there is no deep passion behind it).

First: So to sum up - He is trying to change. He has pulled all the right trappings in his new life. He knows it. And he is very willing to let the other Witchers judge him on it. Id say - possibly even without nefarious intent.

Second: His portrayal of what happened in the past makes sense - and then doesnt.

We dont know if he was a slave trader, but somehow this information bit lingered around, for two separate people to pick it up. So - in the world of Witcher - he probably was.

First: Now to the moral tale perspective.

This is a quest about - if you really believe, that people can change or want to change - and if you are willing to act on it - despite all inklings pointing in a "might come back to bite you in the ass" direction.

You might loose a friendship. He probably was a slave trader - and he even doesnt show remorse with slaves. And in a weird way - he hasnt even repented - which gets underlined by the fact that he lives in luxury.

But then - he has become a valuable member of society, and very probably doesnt deal in slaves any more.

The Witcher he killed back then seems to be circumstantial.

Second: "So - Al Capone, Businessman with dark trappings in his past - have you changed?"

"Yes."

"Have you repented?"

"No."

First: Should you kill him? It depends on how much you follow the ideals of humanistic enlightenment. And probably even - no you shouldnt.

If his past catches up with him "another way" - morally it would seem "just". But as a salomonic "judge" - you are not the one that takes his life in this situation.

The extent to which this quest is crafted to be ambiguous - is great, great storytelling - and if it has received the attention to detail I presume it has - there probably wont be any negative repercussions, either way, - even in future expansions. Its just too perfect of a tale about repercussions and decision making - and the line where you take it is as narrow as it gets.

The Real Rebels

“The next real literary “rebels” in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of anti-rebels, born oglers who dare somehow to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse and instantiate single-entendre principles. Who treat of plain old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction. Who eschew self-consciousness and hip fatigue. These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started. Dead on the page. Too sincere. Clearly repressed. Backward, quaint, naive, anachronistic. Maybe that’ll be the point. Maybe that’s why they’ll be the next real rebels. Real rebels, as far as I can see, risk disapproval. The old postmodern insurgents risked the gasp and squeal: shock, disgust, outrage, censorship, accusations of socialism, anarchism, nihilism. Today’s risks are different. The new rebels might be artists willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the “Oh how banal.” To risk accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Of overcredulity. Of softness. Of willingness to be suckered by a world of lurkers and starers who fear gaze and ridicule above imprisonment without law. Who knows.”

This quote was pulled from David Foster Wallace, the prodigous writer of the 90′s, extolling to writers of his generation to be a different kind of human being. I’ll admit it’s difficult to translate it’s point into a single sentence, but here is my attempt. 

The next generation of storytellers and creators will be those who aren’t afraid to be sincere and genuine even in their informed naivety. 

Even more simply put, the real rebels of this generation will make it important to believe in something again. 

It’s easy to be cynical in this day and age. It’s easy to see how things have failed us and it’s easy to abandon the work of changing it. Why? Because we’ve seen people and organizations fail us time after time while promising us that we’re doing good things. In our day and age, to believe is to be laughed at. 

I’m not just talking about believing in God, but believing that anything matters at all.

Our culture is so nihilistic in it’s pursuit of anything and if we do attempt at reaching for something we preface it by reminding ourselves that it will probably fail. In our history there was a place in time for this sort of critical look on life. Progress unchecked is a leviathan unchained. 

However, it doesn’t mean progress is inherently bad. 

Progress is something to believe in. It’s what we use for motivation to get up in the morning. The idea that it’s all headed somewhere reminds us that we have a part and role to play. However, I’ve grown up in a society where to even try is to be naive. To give your all is a waste. To believe is to be moronic. 

And in this time of political unrest in our country we are seeing the results of this attitude. 

We find the “other” too disgusting to talk too because of what they think, however, instead of bridging the divide we build walls. There is never a moment where we remind ourselves that the people we lambast and mock are people too. I’m not saying that you have to agree with them. I’m simply saying that you must acknowledge that they simply have different values. They make decisions based off their own life experiences just as you do and we criticize them for it as if we were somehow more enlightened or superior. 

So what to do? What will the new human being of this generation do?

The anti-rebel, as DFW called them, will seek not to distance themselves from the “other” but embrace the mocking of their peers for trying to understand them. The new human will be someone who is more worried about creating progress than criticizing it’s excess’. The new human will be someone who inspires people to believe again without selling certainty. This type of human will seek to make their countries great without scapegoating groups of people and instead, will invite them to join so they can contribute. The new type of human will be someone who invites his philosophical enemies in to understand them and let them know they are equals. Let’s learn to believe in something together. It’s the only way to heal and it’s the only way forward that doesn’t involve the destruction of another group. In the Christian tradition we use the practice of the dinner table to disarm our perceived enemies and we welcome the stranger into our homes. It is not the destruction of the other that makes us great, it is the ability to come together in one accord and bring anyone who wants to join that makes us great. Let us work to do good and be steadfast in our faith to see this world be made new.

Never a Greater Oxymoron

Corporate innovation. It sounded appealing when I first got involved, and I want to say I’m still interested, but two and a half years of consulting have left me wanting a creative outlet. Most of my childhood and teenage years were centered on creativity in some form or another – I played musical instruments, I was a standout English student, and storytelling was one of my favorite parts of the videogames I spent (way too much) time playing. As I focused my studies and career on technology, “innovation” seemed like a natural fit. I learned about disruptive innovation and the startup world and was drawn to the idea of creative solutions to difficult problems – the stated modus operandi of the consultant, if you will.

It wasn’t shocking that I ended up at a consulting firm after undergrad. I began my journey in healthcare analytics and met some great people. Before too long, I had an opportunity to join an internal innovation group and immediately pursued it. Through that and my other experiences, I’ve come to understand that innovation at huge companies is difficult, if not impossible. I don’t mean to sound cynical as I share my stories of buzzwords, red tape, and incompetence, but it will probably come across that way. Neither you nor I owe anything to large enterprises, though – they certainly wouldn’t hesitate to slander us, after all. If I use names in these anecdotes, know that they are fake names and I don’t intend to reveal anyone’s identity or hurt any feelings through these blogs. 

But those are the only punches I intend to pull, so hopefully we get some good laughs out of all this. Without further ado, on to the good stuff.

--

Perhaps you’ve heard of something called robotic process automation. If you haven’t, allow me to enlighten you – they are computer programs with a fancy name. If you can write code, you can pretty much write a rudimentary robotic process automation. That description doesn’t do more sophisticated process automations justice, as there are companies and toolkits out there that can almost completely simulate a human on a computer, but make no mistake – they are computer programs. The idea is writing one of these scripts will allow you to automate repetitive processes that humans currently do, saving time, money, and frustration.

Here’s the catch – you’re only really going to save a ton of time if you automate something that a TON of people are currently doing on a regular basis, and you probably only see scenarios like that at large companies. Why is that a catch, you might ask? Because you quite simply will not be able to put together all the pieces to automate a process like this at a large company. There will prove to be too many hoops to jump through, too many security concerns, and too many people with wildly differing opinions to accomplish anything. So while the goal is to save time, money, and frustration, it ironically takes too much time, money, and frustration to make it happen. I’ll elaborate with an example.

Our internal finance teams use an application to view data on each of our most important clients. On a regular schedule, the teams download a spreadsheet containing this information from the application, and send it to higher-ups for review. Sounds simple, and should be easy to replace with a computer program, right? You could not be more wrong. 

First, we had to work with a development team to learn how the process is done today, recording every click in a word document. If you’ve ever done traditional software development, you’ve written a functional document, so this may not sound bad. However, both the development team (an outsourced team, because this is corporate America) and the experts on the process (finance-types with zero technical experience) had to review and approve the document. This somehow took a few weeks. Little did I know the fun was just beginning. After one development team had seen the process, become familiar with the process, and approved the process document, this same team naturally began writing code for the robot.

…Just kidding. We got an entirely new team of developers with no familiarity with the process assigned to write the code. The first thing that we were told by this team is they needed a process demo with the experts, making sure to capture each click along the way. Yes, you read that correctly – my associate Steve and I spent weeks in document review hell only to have this new development team essentially wipe their asses with this word document that already captured every single click. “Some questions naturally come up in a process demo that we think only the experts can answer,” was the justification. Don’t you worry, reader, every single question they asked after taking another unnecessary hour off the calendar of an internal finance manager was a question Steve or I could have answered. Another wasted week, not a huge deal. At least we could begin writing code now, right?

Wrong again. The development team did not have access to every single client’s data in the application. This time a security team spoke up, saying they don’t want a bot accessing every single client’s data. Probably a reasonable concern, but where was this security team in the beginning of this whole debacle? Their input would’ve been quite nice to have, to say the least. After addressing their security questions, we were promptly told to get access to a client’s data, we need written permission from that client’s lead partner, also known as one of the busiest people at the company. These guys would win the “most likely to ignore your email” superlative if this was a high school and not a lackluster consulting firm. Sounds promising.

We ultimately got about five clients to sign off on this. Five. That is a small number, so we decided to plead our case with this security team for a faster solution. We put together a business case and sent it to them. The response, of course, was radio silence for weeks while Steve and I got asked every single day by a, shall we say, persistent developer when we were getting the full client list.

Sidebar on this developer – Working with this guy was rough. Meetings with senior management with no advance warning or context, repeating questions regularly, throwing Steve and I under the bus any time something went wrong… the list goes on. In any case, after multiple unproductive weeks with the developers and a paltry five clients, we were with no warning told that the bot was almost complete and we basically needed the full client list yesterday.

I had been raising the warning bells, but now really started driving the point home. It did not help that Steve was on vacation, but this all resulted in an email from a high-level partner that just said “call me ASAP.” Never a good sign to have to explain to someone at least ten times your net worth why the hell his personal robotics investment was hitting a wall. After a less painful than expected conversation with this guy, he went to the stubborn security team and attempted to drop the hammer. I say attempted to drop the hammer, because he was unsuccessful. The security team ignored him – because the security team is somehow an entirely separate company under the same corporate umbrella as my consulting firm. Therefore a partner at my company had no real power over this security team. Makes sense, right? And no, I don’t understand why we are attempting to work on a tool owned by a completely separate corporate entity. Or why we are separate corporate entities.

If you’re wondering whether this story has a happy ending, prepare to be disappointed. This epic is ongoing – I’m fully expecting to log back in after the holidays and find some other reason why we won’t be able to put in place a small program that will save everyone involved many hours of frustration. I don’t foresee this being done in the next month or two, but don’t tell my manager – as far as he knows, everything is on track!