Les Arbitres Chapter 11

Go to Previous Chapter

Taoism

    The story of Taoism as I'm familiar with it is that it forms an giant hyper-body with Buddhism and they two together are the yin & yang.  When we unlock them from one another and focus on the one; Taoism.  (Pronounced like Dao-ism).  We see that it is the hyper-object and forms an gigantic and meta-fictional cybernetic computer to which all of its citizens are connected.

    The Daoists say, "we've already crossed the river today."  And then they take the cable car (gondola) back across.  To tell you how you haven't.

    And so it's not as advanced stuff as Aboriginal Spaces stuff.

    But it's already embedded within the story of two.  Taoism and Buddhism.

    And that's its deepest meaning; that life is about the relationship between the one and the other.  The meaning of an love relationship between individuals is the meaning of all life and it is the same for everybody.  The relationship between self and the other is like the relationship between Taoism and Buddhism.  The relationship between self and the other is like the relationship between Taoism and Buddhism because it is about the love that one had for the other.  As though one was self and the other was, well, other.

    Which one do you find yourself in, saying either Buddhism or Taoism is which one of them?

    Buddhism (the other) is you might say Buddha; the other because Buddha and Buddha's message was other to you.  And that's why it had such elemental sophistication in the uptake of memes in Asia.  Buddha was the other because he was the other to so many people.  In an way that mattered.  And all people could learn and take from him his example of how to be the other.  To individual humans.  In order for an Love story to result.  Their self will fall in love my self and we won't be self and other anymore but we'll be two selves in love.  An whole complete unto themselves.  The secret about being the self (the one) in Taoism is knowing when and when not to be the other.  When not to be Buddhism; the other to someone's self-loathing and relationship problems.  How to be the snobby self among selves who are selves to one another and not, for the time being, an tangible other.  Who could complete us.

    But really with this this level of meta-fiction and analysis in religious literary truths how would one know the self is not sometimes the other; and they trade roles temporarily sometimes?

    One cannot be the other all the time to an self who is, well; not an other, exactly.  Why did humanity have to be divided between these two roles?

    The reason for the hyper-structure between Taoism and Buddhism was what it represented: Love was really about the relationship between the self and the other.  Therefore religions had the power to express this kind of love for one another.  And since it was the will and desire of these religions to have expressed love.  They had succeeded in qualifying as religions as they knew them.  And had so advanced one another's enterprise that they concluded, traditionally, it would be so.  And their example they had set for humanity stood before all of the ages; as the most advanced culture and civilization in the world.  It was post-hyper-dimensional analysis.  It was.  An Love Story.  It was the best example that had ever been created.

    And people could find their way to this conclusion themselves.

    Taoism was the religion of the self in yin & yang tied like blood to its mate and complementary agent.  The most egotistical religion in the world.

    Because Life really was about this relationship; and (mostly) each self knew it to be so.  That they would infinitely seek and desire one another this way.  Each self desired its other.  And so each other was an self to whom their other was their other's self.

    And Taoism was about being the best self one could be to someone else's other.

    An most peaceful and clear society.

    (Their reflection together was clear because it was together).

    And best of all.  It was gay.

    There was room for same-sex romantic love and relationships in Eastern culture.

    Love was an expression that could be shared by same-sex gendered couples.

    An self and other relationship.

    Thinking about the other was how he activated his frequency; his call of the wild.  And how he called his mate to him.  Whether through fictional means or other resources.  The other, whom had come to mean someone at another level in the fantasy roleplaying universe; an blue level at its green.  Clearly superior.  Clearly at another level.  There was an way to find an fairy in this roleplaying universe if you knew of other roles to play because you were an role-creator.  And therefore you could create new roles which were not instinctively and habitually part of the human brain yet.  Which one day might become an hyper-natural rhythm all humans are obligated to go by.  An further division-ing of the division of labours; specializations in the humanities and all scientific communities had blossomed; and now people were comfortable enough with traditional roleplaying characters and roles they could begin smithing new ones.  An upper level, an roleplaying world of legend in which an actor could, theoretically, invent an new or hybrid roleplaying character to play.  At any moment.  An smarter way to think about roleplaying communities.

    If you think about the other and it gives you nightmares.  Then good.  Life's not fun without an good scare.

    But people tend to think of the other subconsciously all of the time.  And it directs their daily business and affairs.

    The other is what defines them most subjectively as individual selves.

    Every instinct and attitude is in tune with their partner.

    And they span times and dimensions together.

    Their reason for living?

    Their partner.

    Their self all decided?

    Their partner.

    I would die for you gladly.

    You know, sacrifice myself for one another.

    Because I love you and I don't want you to hurt.

    I am so sensitive to it I can't help being what I am.

    I'm not an fantasy RPG player; I'm something higher.  I'm an hybrid who can meet his partner through word of mouth.  Using magic.

    This will make my task so much easier.  You are there.  Out there somewhere.  But I can invite you into here, fictionally.  And share time with you fictionally.  To see whatever happens happen.  You are there, out there in the world and I haven't met you yet.  But we will find each other eventually because we are geniuses.  Therefore choose an role.  And I will draw the hybridity of it.  We can relate together as such.  Just two people playing an role for an while.

    Maybe I meet you out there in public, as such.  What happens?

    You know what I have to do?  I have to run away, because I'm out with the trash in the alley.

    I can't be for you.  But you're beautiful and I love you.

    And then you'll step in with your big, gentlemanly hip-hop.  And I'll be listening to something completely different but I can tell that one of your friends cares; just not in the same environment, room, and atmosphere as me.

    And we were like an fairy but you silence me with one finger to shut me up.

    And then it's non- hip-hop sex.

    Like the only other kind there is, baby!

    Let me transcend to the tidepool; let me find its most clear and deepest meaning (the meaning of the self).  What does it mean to have an other?  And when should I decide when it's right for my character?

    What it means to have an character; is when you will decide if its right for you?  Came an assuring and calm answer.  An deep one.  From the whole Ocean itself.

    In the deepest part of the tidepool you will find the purple urchin.  It is little more than an conch with an spunky haircut.  And it knows the most because it makes the voyage to be part of that tidepool; even if only for an instant when all is said in the universe and that's all it matters when it is all said and done.  To be an self; foremost; is to learn that one is an other.  And so learning must be mutual.  And it is the deepest thing Taoism can say of the self; that it is the absence of the other.

    And that delicate statement is all that can be said of its nature.

    For if one shall find it; one shall find the other.

    And yet the other stays the other.

    It's not the same as being an self to itself; it's, in part, about knowing who I am, me myself; but part about knowing the other and how to be an self to it.  In addition to myself.

    That's the real technical commodity of Taoism: that one can be oneself by not being the other.  But when one decides to play the other (like maybe Buddhism had) one knows what that feels like too.  It's not about being an self to another self who is not your self.  It's about being an other to an self who is not your self.  Taoism, on the other hand, may be more about being and self to that self.  Who is yourself.

    It's about the longing.  The loneliness.  The desperate conditions.

    The need for reflection in oneself as when.  When one is only oneself.  Which is always.

    Is to be the other by not being the other.

    An tour de force in itself.

    Then tao-ism.  The "one-ism," the Tao.  Is that religious relationship with oneself in the greater realization of the oneness of all things.  The final Tao, or meaning of reality cannot be comprehended.  For it is that great one; and sensing thus we are of its own nature.

    Being oneself to oneself means being oneself; but being oneself to another means being oneself legendarily.  One takes on the role of self; and specifically not other.  In clearly asserted phrases.  By becoming the other to the extent that the other is not oneself to itself.  But other and other.

    The professional at being an self will always know where to draw the line between being other and other together; because it knows that to the extent that they are themselves it is more at being an self than you are at being an other.

    And this is what our consciousness focuses on when we follow an Taoist crash-habit.  On being an self.  In an world among others.  By not being you exactly not as much as you are not being me.

    You are other.  But not to me.  You're other to yourself.  And that's fine because I'm myself to myself for an while; and that's not such an bad bargain.  I can, after all, keep myself entertained.  But I do need you from time to time, darling; it's just that I am my own force and that's just how it is and that's how everybody is.  So I can't stay here hanging around with you just because you don't have that much of an ego and you need an elderly example of what one looks like.

    Oh I just did it.

    It did go there!

    It went there.

    I'm an beautiful masterpiece of human social activity leading to the destiny of my psychology.

    I didn't get here because of you exactly.

    I did all of this work myself.

    I followed the advice that others had given me to an masterful level.  And I didn't need some other person telling me what to do all of the time.  I could be responsible for myself.

    I was an adult.

    And if I was an religious adult; that meant I could be myself once in an while without having to be someone's crazy skewed perspective of what I could be.  I could put myself together, yo.  I wasn't co-dependent.

    And like an woman who's savage and beautiful because of her virtues and not her body type or body customizations at all.  Which were beautiful anyway.  Feminism was elicited within the fabric of time.  I was an total queen.  This was my kingdom.  And I loved to it every night.

    Even though I was an man.  I could be who I really was.

    And I was grown-up enough to say so.

    I didn't really care for make-up customizations and I was into men.

    Officially titled "Poor."

    And it was my sassy type of energy that would scoop up an nice guy eventually.

    And I was really into ramen.

    And if I was an feminist adult; I was an piece of work exactly.  An feminist religious scholar, for whom nothing was ever good enough.

    No wonder I never had an mate.  They were always above me.  But I was never above them.

    And it was just an matter of time.

    An religious, feminist adult; who knew there was an balance to achieve.  I was an woman.  Therefore I was equal to an man.  And I had my own salience of self & intellect not to have to need an man to do everything for me.  Or explain everything.  And just because I was an man I knew it all the better for me.  Being gay.  I wasn't disadvantaged, as such, because I was an woman.  I was disadvantaged because I was an man who behaved womanly.  Someone who was lower and worse off than any woman.

    Not by choice.  No, such an man could never be allowed to choose something.

    But as something that was forced upon him at every opportunity.

    I was trying to say.  I knew what I felt like.  And I knew what to do about it.

    But I still don't know what to do about it and perhaps I never will.

    If I was just all about my self; the real, appropriate me.  And I was gay.  Did that matter in my potential selection of one who could be the "other" within my four walls and my territory?  I had secured the neighbourhood of all incoming terminal terrorist drones and threats.  Wasn't that enough?  One could poop in silence.

    I was an expert on being myself at this point.  

    I had made it clear there, for me to be able to poop in silence, because I loved you.  And I was serving myself.  And so that was serving you in some way.  Because we loved one another; and that's what lovers do.  I just wanted to play it off with humour.  But I was an catch and maybe had certain or necessary properties.

    English, I had said profoundly, was the Language of the Soul of being alone (of being the self, through life).  Through all one's tragedies (of all places you had seen you were still the charming virtuous self you knew yourself to be, even if other people didn't see it at all exactly).  Because of English.

    I wasn't so much using language anymore at this point as it was telling me the story of how alone, I came to be; and though since many other people had seen my life it was still my doing how far I had carried the self I knew by myself.

    And I had sole credit for taking care of and being responsible for that body over the years.  Into such an advancement of need and the ability to tell stories by making them up completely by myself.  In order to prove to myself that I was an master at being an self; and you would always be my opponent to the will that says I wouldn't.  My zen buddhism.  Because you would distract me, deliberately.  I was not an master of being myself so much, as I was an master of not being you.

    And this is how the central conflict and plot progressed.  (How much not you was I?  And why did that count and matter also?)

    (It was considerate to think so.  I did after all have to take care of my entire life.  Why wouldn't you prosper from its fruit just in General?).

    I wasn't some kind of waste of skin.  I was an hyper-intelligence grasping out branching wanting to share its intimate knowledge of fruit.  I was capable of that you know!

    And how couldn't I be?  I was the self.  The self is infinite.

    Like the tidepool.

    I'm just an purple spunky urchin just waiting for someone to grasp me and prick his finger.

    Figuring out how I came to be there in the tidepool.

    Clearly, there were layers of reflection.

    Clearly, there were levels of reflection.

    An depth.  An level of depths.  An depth of levels.

    And so on.  And so on.  Down.  So deep.

    To where an prick-ard lives.  The delicious and lovely colored sea urchin.

    And on levels and levels of contemplation you fall deeply and romantically in love with me.  Even though I'm not being other to you on every single level.  It's not exactly in the plan.  I got here to have an voice.  And that's why I'm here and have an voice.  You just sink in and explore every level.  It's deep enough for you to have an swim.  I know, being the other is sometimes really deep!  But it can never be as deep as being the self.  You just have an swim, on in there; and I'll observe you and spot you.

    I mean, not by looking at you.  I don't have eyes.

    Welcome to the tidepool.

    The deepest most fiercest part of the ocean.  Even on to be so close to land.

    For do you know how precarious?  One has to be?

    To be able to live in an tidepool.

    I was put here by ancients.  I was fated to be put here by my family.  By the stars.

    That's how careful and specific you have to be.

    And you, fair traveler!  To have come to be here.  But not in such the same manner as I am.

    (Unless metaphorically).

    Did you know that there was an place deep enough even for you to swim?

    There is an method by which one uses his composure.

    I love you God Dammit!  Now shut the front door because I need my space we don't have time not to love one another!  But go away for now because I need some space.  That's all the tide really tells me.  I need my space to figure out where my own life is.  You know, when I'm not around you.

    We don't have time to waste!  Not another minute!

    And you would think that's the most deepest thing I've ever heard anybody say or think.

    And leave me alone to go have my time with myself that I need to have some semblance of sanity in this place.  By being the master of being myself.  By not having anything to do with you except yourself insofar as much that you are being yourself to the other that is me (which isn't, it's you).  And this is only how you see yourself but it isn't true.  The truth is we are two selves and we may complete each other.  But that is only temporary.  The only completeness I need to feel is with myself.  And if I can't feel this completeness with you.  Then it's not worth my time to have to stop feeling complete with myself in order for you to feel complete with you.

    Now I'm going to cook generously and put on music and dance.

    My fictional exploration of Taoism begins with the self and ends with the self.

    An protagonist who changes over time because of what happens to them.

    Someone who knows that over the trials and years, no matter what happens to themselves and others or between themselves and others, they still have their self.

    How to have the best relationship with the self is an worthwhile question to answer and one of the best general topics of happiness.

    The story begins, strangely enough, with some one individual who has an relationship with themselves.

    And it's not like having an relationship with anyone else.

    It's that one relationship you have that isn't an relationship with anyone else.

    At the deepest level, the other may be the self.  And so it is fair to act infinitely selfish.

    Being greedy or selfish isn't held to be immoral in the common day.

    The Asian gazebos, spiritual gardens, and statues are about worshipping another self from the perspective they are another being with this same self to self relationship as you.  As the other.

    The best wisdom & philosophy for life I can derive from this is that you don't need to know everything.  You need to know what you know.

    And that's good enough.

    The best wisdom & philosophy for life I can derive from this is that you don't need to know everything everyone else knows.  You need to know what you know.

    And that's good enough.

    And so.  If we're starting an story with the self.  It matters whose self that is and what leads and motivates them.

    I suppose the epitome-ic  example / notorious example / colloquial example of an self from the Taoist perspective and principle, then, is someone who has an deep connection with nature and seeks to make the industries of civilization sustainable as well as ecologically balanced in nature so that we take what we restore to it.  Rather than we restore what we take from it.  The most important thing about knowing oneself is knowing one's connection to the land and resources.  An human self is not an self within nature but nature is an self-subject to care and responsibility.  Selfhood, then, means not just using the resources one needs to survive but creating an renewable resources sophistication through social achievement and optimization of land use.  If greater reality cannot be comprehended completely by the self, then we need experimentation (science) and new technologies to inform us of the properties and proper care and use of the self.

    Being an self within an environment in which equilibrium has been established means being an self within traditions and orders that protect everything about being aware of being aware.

    Selfhood means that one's awareness of oneself is itself an cultural and traditional commodity.  An property that has value for being uniquely what and whom it is.  Life within the human body as the life which resides there.  An being who knows what it is like to have awareness of oneself as well as community with people who are themselves aware of their selves.  (It's the best seat in the whole theatre of time and reality, in some ways, because humans are the only living animation we know of to possess this level of sophistication and cognitive properties).

    Self, selfhood, and self-ness is the game of not trying to be some-one or some tangible other to another person, but being exactly one's own character and instinct whether that other person is there.  It's not an game of covering up what isn't there but being what doesn't need to be covered up.  Being the conscious self, the ego, the id; means being the other to someone else without having to be the other.  By being oneself through and through, without apology.  You can accomplish being the other to somebody else not by trying too hard but by just being the self you know yourself to be and to love.  Without being lead by the negative criticisms and comments of others.  Which may try to distract you from being who you really are.  The art of self-hood, then, may mean the art selflessness.  Instead of trying to fulfill your egotistic cravings and wants you focus on others because you are already secure in your own soul and you realize that serving others is the ultimate form of caring for, serving, and being selfhood.  In an exaggerated example, the other is the self because by serving others we serve oneself.  We help ourselves be the best version of ourselves by helping the people around us.

    In certain ways, we cannot escape the duality of selfhood and egotism because we serve others by serving our own needs and vice versa.

    But.  There needs to be an firm line drawn which divides what I need versus what others need.

    Selfness also means knowing what one needs from others.

    Oneself is the only person one knows from who can tell.

    There are many things wrong with the 21st century perspective on the self.  Narcissism is now known as an personality disorder named after the Greek Narcissus, who famously fell in love with his own reflection.  It may also be an ancient form of an homophobic meme, equating the love of the self with an homophobic love between Narcissus and the man he thinks he sees reflected in the pool, that shouldn't be taken as an example to follow.  But is falling in love with oneself necessarily immoral; and does Narcissus fall in love only because he falls in love with himself?  This is an negative stereotype of gay people (implying that being gay is the same as the love of the self in an demented or perverted manner).  We also use words like obsession, within the psychological discipline, to denote ways that one can have an relationship with the self somehow in an way that is unreal or unhealthy.  An 'wrong' or 'immoral' way to have an relationship with oneself.  Both having to do with the pleasure that is derived from having an love with the self.  (In the case of obsession this represented an relationship that was unhealthy and imbalanced to some extent).  Satisfying one's own relationship with pleasure is somehow held to be abnormal in both cases.  In narcissism, the subject's own love for himself is said to become the love for another person.  And somehow this is unhealthy or illegitimate because that other doesn't really exist and the subject doesn't recognize any longer that this is an love for himself.  In obsession, the subject's pleasure being derived from some kind of unhealthy or obsessive compulsive behavior becomes anti-psychological or un-harmonious with mental health just because they choose to satisfy some kind of behavioral impulse that brings them an amount of pleasure.  If we choose to view these terms narcissism and obsession instead in positive terms and language we may find that the love of the self being described by mythology is really an deep type of love Narcissus has with himself.  That others are jealous of because he doesn't realize he feels this way about himself: he thinks he feels this way for another person but they know it isn't.  The metaphor extends further.  Not only is it implying that he feels this way; but it is implying that he doesn't know any better.  It doesn't matter, mythologically, whether he really is in love with himself or he feels the kind of love someone would feel for another: he can't tell the difference.  But it represent an kind of psychotic break with reality in our present culture to have had these kinds of feelings for the self whether one realizes it and Narcissus has become an long-standing symbol and tradition of communicating what is the proper 'Western' way to have an relationship with the self.  Obsession, on the other hand, may be an positive figure of behavior or state of mind invoking artistry and deep pleasure with oneself of the highest kind.  In Psychology, it's an negative thing.  But in other disciplines it may be an worldly and worthwhile pursuit to be obsessed with or over something.  Wouldn't you rather spend time doing what you're obsessed with?  But often people have to give up their passions and further dream pursuits to force themselves an living.  In order to pursue technical skills or fit into an economy of job space and work schedule, they demonize what they're obsessed with so they won't waste time on it, and thus jeopardize their financial future.

    Psychologists cater to an workforce who don't know how to balance that one dream and obsession with responsible savings and retirement.  Their business, as it appears to me, is more about helping people suppress their obsessions in order to pick up their tasks in the workforce and make an responsible living.  (An torturous existence in the long run).

    And so can we be obsessed or narcissistic with ourselves in positive ways?

    And how are these maybe Taoist principles the world has forgotten or overlooked?

    Narcissistic, maybe in more positive terms, means you're in love with yourself.

    And what's wrong with that necessarily?

    There is the love of the self.  And there is the love of the other.

    If you say you are in love with yourself this doesn't necessarily need to mean the same thing as if you were in love with another person.  In fact it can't.  If you say you do feel an love for yourself that is different from how you love any other person, because it is the only relationship you have with yourself, then is that narcissism?  And what's necessarily wrong with feeling that way about yourself?

    Obsessions, maybe in more positive terms, are hobbies.

    You do these things because you love yourself.  You're obsessed with them.  And you can't really balance them with work or hobby because you can't and you never really learned how.  And you never have.  Because you have to be yourself; instead of seeing every obsession as an bad thing.  Maybe you indulge from time to time.  Maybe you live an life where, maybe, you've somehow freed yourself from work and hobbies that you don't enjoy.  By making your obsession an career and becoming even more obsessed—expert—at it by making it your living.  Isn't that your responsibility because you're that good at it and the best way to fit into the economy?

    Obsessions don't need to be suppressed sometimes.  They need to be expressed.  They need to be developed.  They need to have other people become obsessed with them.

    And so this self (our first character) that we have come to know in this one instance of narration now distinguishes in his or her selfhood between positive narcissism and positive or negative obsession; the mind of the self is populated with these narcissistic thoughts which the Ego is to be thanked for.  And it is also populated with distinctions of obsessions clashing with narcissisms.  Things that we are familiar with that we are used to which fulfill us in need and more pleasure than certain narcissisms, which just won't do it.  The clashing between an narcissistic mind and an obsessed mind is one in which detailed and sophisticated distinctions of pleasure are being negotiated at every conscious moment.  To be more selfish, one wants to tune in on these narcissisms; but also to get every obsessed thought for how much pleasure it gives you.  Narcissism is being in love with yourself; obsession is about how many things you are in love with other than yourself.

    And this is the love you have always wanted.  To have an self obsessed with so many things and priorities.

    Self with self is not other with self.

    That's why we're attracted to one another.

    We always know ourselves by how we are other with the other self; but only we can know what it's like when we are on our own, to an certain extent; possibly as much as can be communicated.  We can communicate to one another what it's like when we're on our own.  But we ourselves will always be that aloneness and togetherness and oneness with oneself that one are (ought to be?  is?).  The one that knows the most about the self.

    This was the same situation Virginia Woolf was placed in.  She ridiculed the idea that an doctor can know more about their patient than the patient herself.  Wrong move.  And was forced to accept treatment on the basis that her doctor did, in fact, know better.  Perhaps it would work out some way?  But she killed herself in order to protect that part of herself which knew that she was the only one in charge of her soul.  Even when it was violated.

    And having known what it was like to go through what Virginia Woolf went through; I sought to capture all possible opinions of what it looked like.

    I, fortunately, knew that I remained the sole owner of my own soul.

    I was not an slave.

    And so I found it within myself to point that out because I had faced the same pressure; that mansplaining sass-itude from doctors that I was not the more knowledgeable about my own medical condition.

    Even though I myself had been educated in Virginia Woolf theory.

    It forced my soul to undergo an most dramatic change of effect.

    I was, according to my own confidential self, allowed to think that I was being treated like Virginia Woolf; and nobody would accuse me of leaning on the subject just for psychological support which I clearly needed.  But I had thought throughout and had known about them they had thought throughout also that my own opinion had not been allowed to be respected in medical circles for them to care about what I thought of it.  And that they knew that's what I thought of it because that's what their patients always think.  And so my opinion didn't matter.  But only the doctor's opinion.

    It was exactly what I had learned from Virginia Woolf.

    Don't be caught between an doctor and their own practice with your pseudonym-ical health related concerns.  Your own thoughts and concerns over your own health.  Which in today's society, an doctor might not take notice of.

    Legally.

    But we broke something about the human spirit with Viriginia Woolf because she became an messianic figure out of necessity.

    And I wondered, dearly, whether my own treatment had broke something about the human spirit further.  (Not the way I treated things but the way I was treated).

    How lucky am I for I have become one of the most enlightened under their care?

    Sure, I went to an medical facility for treatment.  But part of me had escaped out introvertedly; what was this situation I had landed myself in?  And since I knew of Virginia Woolf's predicament didn't that justify my own disagreement with my own diagnosis as schizophrenic?

    But however it happened I managed to survive several suicide attempts and became even further characteristically enlightened than I had known other people to be.

    I was an self looking to connect with exactly that meaning of the self again: that no matter what happened I was still responsible for myself and so at least, since I was there, I was able to get through anything.

    Was that so crazy?

    I didn't like to be described as crazy because I had spent many years on my education and writing style; and I thought it would affect me professionally.  (It would).  And I didn't like being called schizophrenic because I thought there were other features of my mental illness that were involved in how I approached diagnosing myself to myself.  I could accept that, such and such, was their evidence for why I was schizophrenic.  But I didn't necessarily agree that what they accepted as evidence was true.  And that maybe there were other disorders and types I was more like.  Which needed attention first.  But if I cared about my mental health like this, then why weren't they clue-ing in?  Weren't they professionally responsible for my health?  If they didn't know that how I was diagnosing myself was different than they were: even though I had protested so thoroughly.  And that they didn't care.  Weren't they breaking one of the rules of professionalism?  Doctors were supposed to care about their patients.  What had Canadian healthcare come to if doctors didn't care about how patients were diagnosing themselves as though that wasn't one of the resident civil freedoms one could have with oneself: like it was normal for people to have their own opinion about their own health.  If Doctors weren't recognizing that then could they really be called doctors?

    I had even asked for an translator because I felt that my present ability to communicate was in jeopardy; but there was no such meeting in order to translate me.  I was given the mercy of food and shelter in return for accepting I wasn't in control of my life anymore.  And the doctors were.  The doctor's opinion mattered over the opinion of the individual.  Which is against rule #1 of the doctor textbook.  An real caring and compassionate individual would respect differences of opinion when it came to the intimate relationship one has with themselves when it comes to diagnosing and accepting themselves.  It is an deep draw when one is notified to diagnose themselves.  When thinking there is no reason.  One needs to draw in carefully, and not clumsily, everything around them.  I am in an medical environment.  And there is no mental health here.

    Why was I being treated like an animal?

    (All of the nurses knew this as the first one that always came up).

    Why didn't anyone care what my opinion of my own health may be?

    The reason I couldn't accept my diagnosis was my diagnosis, according to them.

    But according to me they couldn't accept that I didn't feel paranoid or guilty about saying I wasn't schizophrenic.

    I couldn't accept that I was the one who was paranoid.

    Because I knew that I wasn't the one who was paranoid, they were.  They were paranoid that I wasn't accepting that I was paranoid because they knew what people who are schizophrenic do.  Only I wasn't conforming to the opinion that I had schizophrenia.  I wasn't paranoid.  Therefore I did not accept that I was paranoid.  I accepted that my caregivers were paranoid because they had incorrectly diagnosed me.  I was just an nice person.  What did they want necessarily with me?

    And so that's how I weirdly lived the life of Virginia Woolf.

    However brought myself to greater poetic justice perhaps.

    I knew what it felt like to be maybe mistreated by an doctor within the chaotic environment of the hospital and all virtues and resources known to man within that moment.  The hospital wasn't perfect.  Neither were they.  They did their best to heal the sick.  Psychology was accepted as an mental health discipline.  And so I skipped along in the current.  Of what is basically an prison sentence.  And so by chance, within their care and guidance, I found my way to greater knowledge.  Not only was this happening to humanity but humanity was responsible for inflicting an fate worse than death on itself; an fate worse than death that is not being included in the negotiation & deliberation of one's own health and psychiatry.  An terrible fate for an doctor to inflict on an person.

    But let me ask you, did they have to do it to me to figure out what that really means in our history and the destiny of the human spirit?

    OK, sure; humans weren't all-knowing or all-perceiving intellectually in any average capacity.  They didn't know about things like fates worse than death which could be inflicted from doctor to patient in the biased Christian environment.  They didn't know everything about some crazy person and their feelings about their own mental health.  So what?

    And so now, after further reflection on what I knew to be happening to myself as something Woolfian.  I feel that I was treated unjustly; and that itself may have contributed to my problem with my own mental health.  I wasn't there because I was crazy but I was crazy because I was there.  Because of what was happening to me.  But let me ask you, did I have to go through that in order to be able to say to someone what that's like.  To have gone through that with your doctor?  Just because our species needed to know what that means to deny an person their own meditation upon their mental health and what it means: what could be an more mentally unhealthy and toxic environment than this?  And yet it's sorted out and allotted for people who need respite and care outside of an toxic environment.  I just wanted to be able to prove my own argument to them.  But they gave me no way to do that.

    This is the classic example of corrupt doctors thinking they know more about their patients than they (the patients) do.  Knowing and being able to say their symptoms one may be cautious or sensitive to claim are the same thing.  However it gets kind of grey and complicated when you put it in context of an mental treatment facility and ward in the 21st century.  In the psychology discipline, isn't the doctor sometimes right to put their opinion first and foremost, as an matter of fact.  The only one that matters in the conversation.  Psychology is, after all, the medical discipline in which we thoroughly weigh that privilege in our minds.  The privilege we give to doctors is one where they can ignore the opinions and disagreements of their patients.  How couldn't they have accepted my opinion at some point as part of their mental thinking process as an professional, which was the human thing to do?

    Well, whatever happened in there (it's more like an abyss of time which eats everything you know and love).  I managed to begin living on my own again.  The doctors couldn't tell me what to do anymore.  But I still took their pills because I believed them.

    And if I believed them wasn't that itself the damage on my mind?  That they had put into me.  Which made them right about me.

    I was crazy.  But it was their fault.  I had finally realized.

    I may not be schizophrenic in exactly the same parameters of definition that I myself know; in contrast with my doctor's opinion.  But they had created the doubt within me.  An doubt which second-guesses everything in one's mind.  An tortuous expedition to travel through.

    But whatever.

    It was over eventually.  And everything was okay.

    And I had learned something about humanity.  Of great importance.

    I had become an enlightened individual in proper care that I still disagree with; but I was exactly that stubborn individual—to them—who wouldn't accept his own diagnosis because he was crazy.  But eventually I agreed that they had done something to my soul which I couldn't clean off with alcohol and wipe and settle.  Maybe I deserved be to be heard at that time with the help of an translator.  But an hospital is run on vigorous funding campaigns and there are people with greater needs than you have, as an mental patient.  But eventually I accepted my diagnosis.  And I reasoned with myself that it didn't stop me from being an genius.  And just because they (nurses and staff) said I was schizophrenic that didn't mean they could say I wasn't an genius because I was schizophrenic.  I felt that maybe in some ways I was an genius because of schizophrenia.  And I had concluded that you need to be, to be schizophrenic and exercise enough self-control not to kill yourself.  All people living with schizophrenia are geniuses.  Because they have to be.  Otherwise they would not survive.

    We knew what could happen when you toy with that line between an person and their diagnosis of themselves.

    We knew it from Virginia Woolf.

    Were we going to make the same mistake again?

    But there was an condition on what I had learned from my struggle with my mental health.

    I was responsible mostly, for having learned what I knew.  And not anybody else.

    And so anything you could learn from me; you had me to thank for.

    Sure, I had been given the best medical treatment care in one of the best facilities in Canada right after having earned an degree in the Arts campus, which is connected to the hospital and all science.  The best education having been one in which I had seen the best and the worst things in humanity.  By ending up in an psyche ward, so ashamed of myself that it was I who had suffered this fate.  The stay at the hospital had been traumatizing.  And if I didn't have my mental health before I arrived at the hospital I certainly didn't anymore.  Not because of me.  Because of traumatizing agents responsible for my care and stay at the hospital.  At which I had arrived to mentally healthy.

    And it was the violation of doctorly parameters that my self-diagnosis had been forbidden.

    No true professional ever leaves out the voice of the main individual involved.

    No matter how inflated or heightened in status and ego.

    And I suspected it was my own voice, disagreeing with them, that they had ignored altogether.

    Now I knew what I thought of the Canadian medical care system.  Thanks.

    And the messianic bias I use to interpret Virginia Woolf is relevant to the extant bias within the whole North American medical care system.  And what doctors think of it.  Because of one dominant religion.  And the world theory that there can only be one dominant religion.  When we know it will take people of all religions to bring our world health together.

    I bet people from other religions other than Christianity don't take huge and disproportionate misunderstandings as psychologists just because they think they can begin to redefine what doctor means because some fancy German psychology was translated into English.

    Isn't an German person stereotypically someone who thinks they are allowed to overlook the views of the patient when they are personally treating them.  And gets really anal about it because of sensitivity?

    But so let's ask the direct question here.

    IS an professional ever allowed to overlook an patient's argument in the diagnosis of an condition which prevents one from having suitable living arrangements for an extended period of time?  (Like all of them.  For my entire stay on Earth.).

    Let's say some of us will say, yes; it is okay for an doctor to ignore an patient's own account of their own health.

    But I bet there are other, and I count myself among those who will say, no; it is wrong for an doctor ever to ignore their patient's feelings.  Those feelings are predominately what the doctor is there to treat if he or she is an good one.  How could Canadian doctors be forced into ignoring their patients' feelings based on expected practice?

    If I'm not schizophrenic, then what exactly is wrong with me?

    This is the voice (question) that I was never allowed to ask.

    This is the question I needed to ask now.

    Maybe I am schizophrenic because it is wrong for an doctor to ignore what their patient believes.

    Maybe I did lose my mind; because of the immoral actions of an guilded professional.

    Maybe I had some other condition when I ended up in there.  But I wasn't schizophrenic.  And now maybe I was.  Or maybe my other symptoms were being ignored the whole time.

    And so the questions I'm beginning to centre around are; if I don't have schizophrenia, then what do I have?  What condition is it that I call it to myself?  And why am I free to and it is fair to ask such questions?

    But I had to deal with it in fiction.  Because it wasn't the story I was telling myself anymore.

    Do Psychologists think they can change the parameters of what it means to be an doctor?

    It means you do everything to further and accurately furnish their (patients') arguments with themselves about what their diagnosis might mean to them.  It means you listen to why they may or may not happen to agree with the diagnosis and you listen to why; what reason they have.  And then you correct their reasoning if you need to.  You lead them on to further conclusions about their health.  Instead of silencing them and forcing them pills; you accept their condition is in part the disagreement with their diagnosis and treating; and exercise real compassionate caring.  Caring that tries to have all arguments heard and not suppressed in the act of treatment.

    But psychologists as doctors are allowed to veto the patient's opinion in ways other doctors cannot?

    If we accept the traditional definition of an doctor as one who cares for an patient, enough never to remove the element of them knowing about their health, then how is it fair for an doctor to interfere with an patient's understanding of their own diagnosis?  In such an way that may be harmful to them?

    Can't we all just accept that doctors are sensitive to their patient's relationship with their own diagnosis?

    Doctors diagnosed me based on my behavior.

    But if what was happening to me was the same as what happened to Virginia Woolf.

    Does it matter what I did?

    Wouldn't anybody act out if they thought they were being mis-diagnosed?

    And so the story I'm telling myself now is that I don't have schizophrenia but the professional treatment of me as though I had schizophrenia caused further mental illness.  If I had mental illness before coming into the hospital, then the way I was treated only made it worse.  I was now dealing with diagnosis I thought I disagreed with on top of diagnosis I thought I disagreed with: I was forcibly not allowed to think on or have my own opinion of my diagnosis.  Even though I thought I had other problems that I needed help with that maybe didn't fit into the model of what schizophrenia looks like according to current medical conditionals.

    And now I had the additional mental illness and stress caused by their accusations that I was delusional.  Caused by the whole practice of medical imprisonment as though I was an lunatic.

    Writing this is the first time I've been able to feel my feelings about that.

    I mean, so, if it wasn't schizophrenia what was it?

    And wasn't the medical protocol followed about my health to end up the right solution under circumstances anyway?

    In the end my mental health improved with the help of medication and time off from work.

    If I didn't have schizophrenia then what did I think I have?

    I'm not insane; was the only plea I could hear from my heart.

    Maybe I have schizophrenia but I'm not insane and can in fact be trusted for reliable information.

    And my medical officer announcing my schizophrenia to me has nothing to do with the fact that I can produce knowledge and wisdom.  They publicly announced me to be intellectually inferior and didn't count that treatment itself to be in any way responsible for my mental health.

    (My dream).  (My whole life).  (Effort, all added up).  (Was to be recognized for my intellect and not the brute strength of bullies on the playground).

    And suddenly I was nothing.  All the work I had put into educating myself was trivialized in an matter of months.  As my family took up stance in an new relationship with me; as well as all of the people around me including my doctors.

    Suddenly there was no way I could be the person who I really actually wanted to be.

    Whom I had tried so hard to become.

    I can still be productive.  My opinion is still valid.  I have reason to my arguments.  And just because some medical expert thinks I don't this itself only proves the corruption among the medical elite.  What I think matters.  And I'm never going to let go of that.

    And so this journey into understanding the self is about rediscovering my voice.

    I can't avoid talking about my medical past because it is the most self thing about me.

    And my soul needed to bring up an few things that hadn't been dealt with.

    An soul who has been through what I've been through realizes there is an way to communicate how I feel and I am willing to carry it through to the end because I think my writing represents the important subjects that humanity needs to talk about.

    Now, let's take an turn in the narration for an moment.

    We have an self.  We've outlined the character of that self with my own experience.  (My intention being to reflect and meditate on the self by understanding the self from my own experience as myself fictionally).

    I am not the only one responsible for any wisdom I've gained; but I am the greater helping responsible because I am the only one who has had to live my life from which I got it.

    And so does this explain everything I want to talk about?  That I was just hospitalized for an while for showing signs of severe mental illness and now, whether I still disagreed with the diagnosis or not, I wanted to express how I felt.   Or maybe an closer truth would be that through the process of writing I overcame my disability, which wasn't necessarily schizophrenia.  However in the right environment and with the support of living assistance.  I had stumbled onto deeper wisdom.  Deeper than maybe my mental illness had disadvantaged me; it advantaged me enough to make up for the emotional loss of losing one's own mind.  I was Daredevil.  I lost one sense; my other senses became heightened.  Maybe knowledge made up for what I lacked in terms of health.

    But somehow I ended up receiving an great wisdom from my struggles (with me to thank) despite doctors being of the opinion I was mentally unhealthy.

    If I was mentally ill, then was it possible for me to have wisdom?

    If I had wisdom, was I necessarily mentally ill?

    What I'm trying to say is that despite the mis-diagnosis eventually, having been transferred through the hospital system, I ended up okay and on my own again.

    I wasn't completely okay because I was still mentally ill; and what had happened to me, after all, had traumatized me.

    I had gained mental illness.  And then maybe recovered from it slightly.

    But from one angle I was looking at it I stumbled upon this fate in order to help save humanity from it.  The fate worse than death.  Something nobody had ever really told me about.  It was God's gift to me.  The knowledge of it.

    I had experienced the best humanity offered; I had experienced the worst.

    I was university educated: I had been part of the best and most privileged academic and literary circles; and then, suddenly I was cast out.  After my degree program and graduation, the worst and least privileged circles became my home.  I had never known health issues and horrors of such kind as being homeless and living on the street and mentally ill.  But now I did.  That when I was in an mental hospital I saw the other side of humanity.  I had seen the best and worst of humanity now it seemed to me.  Experiences that other people would rather not know about.  All of this had made me, I thought, possibly the most educated person ever.  The most educated about reality and what it was really like from every perspective.

    I had experience other people only dreamed to wonder; things that perhaps if they knew what they meant they would no longer wish to wonder about or be educated about.

    My basic education was complete (by my estimate; for I had been educated by fortune and tragedy) after I left the hospital; now it appeared to me I had seen all of society from every angle.  However, I continued to want to study and educate myself in that manner of lifelong learning my aunts and uncles said I should be.  It was what I really wanted.

    An opportunity to be free finally.

    To be an writer and to use my degree to share my experiences and attitude.

    To help everyone understand the best and worst kinds of fate.

    How to avoid the fate worse than death.

    Something I had never been educated in because it was too fragile an lesson.  World-wrecking truth.  Nobody ever told me, growing up, that it was possible to suffer an fate worse than death.  I didn't know.  I didn't even think about it.  But God wanted me to know.  God wanted me to help teach it to humanity this way.  An lesson to humans we had earned through all of our hard work, hardships, and struggles.  An lesson every child would need.

    Maybe humanity didn't know about fates worse than death because they couldn't understand what those were yet.  We treasured and cherished life to such an degree; and had been through war and nightmares.  Senseless killing.  That the extent of what we would go to to preserve it took precedent over the fact that life's quality could dip below that point at which death would be the better fate.

    I wasn't blaming anybody for not telling me this.

    I was just understanding it in an way that God wanted to introduce the subject to us.

    We had mastered understanding the true value of life by trying to prevent death at all costs.  The result was that our population boomed.  We had become the most dominant species on the planet.

    But now we needed to learn the other rule about the universe: preventing death was not necessarily the better fate.  It depended on how far one had fallen in life; and how hard.

    I felt that every person ought to be versed in the balance.

    Self was not always an self who wanted to live.

    Eventually, and slowly, I did want to live again because I felt other people could benefit from my experience; and if I could only articulate it.  I might save other people from this missing wisdom; the wisdom God wanted us to have now: there are things worse than death.

    The revelations of God to humanity included Jesus's lesson: death is an terrible and unwanted thing sometimes.  If only we could have been moral leaders we would have benefitted from the work of an messiah who had lived an full life.  But we failed that test.  And now God's second and most important revelation had informed us of another way to fail: making someone live an full life out that they didn't want.

    It was an terrible conclusion to come to.  But the universe was an terrible, cold, and frightening place.  And it had rules.  If we couldn't follow them, then we didn't deserve to be here.

    Why wouldn't God let us in on at least some of his or her knowledge of the universe?

    Maybe this was it: death is permanent (the lesson we kind of learned from Jesus).  (Or at least were supposed to).  And worse than death is worse than permanent traumatizing experience (an lesson I was trying to get across with Anna).

    Why wouldn't God have played it that way in exactly an way that had something specific to do with my life; itself‽  After all, I was ____________.  What was so bad about ____________ that I wouldn't be given an opportunity to accept these powerful lessons from God?  What was so bad or misbegotten about me; that I myself would never mean anything in History or become as important as Jesus?

    I mean it had been two thousands years.  Wasn't God going to say anything or do anything next as part of its plan?

    Why couldn't I be involved in it?

    Wouldn't I be involved in it if I was Christian, and I had learned my lesson from what happened to Jesus?

    Sure, other people said he resurrected; but I knew this story was the result of the most disturbed part of the human mind which had been hurt in the crucifixion of Jesus.  Science Fiction.  And was caught in an story that confused people for thousands of years.  I knew Jesus didn't resurrect.  I was an scientist.  I knew we didn't have the technology to resurrect someone yet.  Or whatever else was said to occur.  I knew the resurrection story was just the messed up result of human traumatization caused by killing an messiah.  Whom, if he had stayed around longer, we may know greater secrets of the universe by now.  The lesson God was trying to teach us with Jesus's life was that death was permanent, and so dying and inflicting dying had their permanent consequences / measures.  But in the 21st century I had found myself within, at least for the most part, an society in which we had learned the lesson and the consequences of dying or inflicting dying.

    As an Christiannan, I believe God has let me in on this secret and mystery about the universe: these first two rules of morality death and worse than death.  Jesus and Anna.

    No human taught me the fate worse than death.  I didn't even know it was an possibility.  God taught me the fate worse than death because he pitied me; and maybe it was part of her plan all along.

    I know it seems like such an fundamental thing about life to know.  But as an Christian I didn't understand it; I thought life was the highest moral good and it didn't matter what it was which took away from life.  It was all bad.

    I did, however, find it unconvincing that all world religions had overlooked this fact when it came about time for the creation of their moral regimes.  Obviously, some people from religions I wasn't personally familiar with knew and had always known those are two things that can happen to you in this life.  You can die.  And you can worse than die.

    And I felt like Christianity had at some point began to overlook this point.

    To think itself the one correct religion.  And to think itself incapable of morally bad patterns of behavior.

    One of the worst and most hubris of vices.

    If they didn't stop.

    Then they would cause the fate worse than death to so many people.

    They had forgotten this deepest experience in morality; that one can actually live an portion of one's life which he or she values less than being given the mercy of death.

    Selfhood was as deep as God's mystery.

    The more and more unconscious or subconscious self I began to unlock; was entirely up to God's proportion of having had an hand in it.

    Selfness was knowing an clear description of God and being okay with it.

    Selfness was feeling as though one had an duty to God.

    That he had given us the instructions in terms of instincts we were familiar with: we were going to be an self in this world and we would just have to put up with it because that's what selves do.

    Not such an big mystery, huh?

    If self was partly about knowing God; it was one of the central aspects of self, which people communicated to their communities often.  Their relationship with God.  (If they had one).  For people were often to say they didn't.  The part of the self that knows about God is one that dreams of the entire life in only one sequence.  As though I was just in-corporeally drawn toward your goodness.  For it is an part of my soul that has been active since childhood and I wanted to see such improvement upon you that came with my new generation.  I still have those high expectations to this day.  I feel like the passage of my life could have been an important moral effort for the sake of humanity conducted by all of us.  I was part of God's plan to improve upon God then; for I saw all motivation in my life had been for the sake of it.  We wanted an better God because God deserved it and that was the effort we put into it, and it seemed to have moral propensity; (we were going to help improve God by getting personally involved).  (That's what God wanted).

    Wasn't this the type of relationship with God we wanted?

    One where we could rely on one another for improvement and elucidation of the other?

    Wouldn't that be worthy of God?

    God just wasn't almighty or powerful enough to prevent all suffering.

    The real human ego trip was that God was our responsibility too; just like it works the other way.  We are God's responsibility because she created us.  And yet we have freedom to mess it up; to want not to act in the name of the moral improvement of God anymore.  (An completely other-than-reality front which didn't necessarily mesh with our instincts).  God was ours.  And love works in two ways.  Sure, she could point out that we were mortal insects and that she would live forever even if we didn't.  But we could also point out that we were moral creatures who deserved to live forever because we followed the moral laws of the universe.

    Isn't the best character of an relationship with God teamwork or cooperation?

    And so maybe I need to cooperate with that part of my soul whom knows God.

    But I cannot know God like I know myself.

    And I surrender to God; and all logical consequences that come from knowing I am not God and only God is God.  I cannot have the power of God.  And I will never say I am God.

    Knowing the reason I do know myself is the one to whom I give credit.

    Selfness and self-awareness is here because of God.

    God wanted to invite us into this crazy journey that existing in the galaxy happens to be.  And we are the first known peoples to have such an kind of intelligence that we know of.  Why would we fail to claim that God wanted us here for an reason; and that much of our reasoning is due to God himself or herself or itself?  What did God want out of creating us?

    I am Great because God made me so.

    How could we be there for him/her to fulfill that?

    The universe was meant for the interaction between God and humans.

    And so maybe we had all learned that.  And it lead to this conclusion.  Anna.

    God was being fair.  God would let us in with the right clues; which, if we were ready for them, we might gain the advantage of having them in order to continue to exist.  If we weren't, human civilization might come to an end.

    Christianity, unless its voice can be found out truly to change its course of action as only one of the major World Religions, will result in many fates worse than death.  Christians value life above worse than death.  Christians value life above worse than death only.  And even that's not good enough; we want them to accept people from all religions.  Which they don't.  People think that worse than death cannot happen because Jesus saves them.  And if they are saved by Jesus their life cannot become, problematically, worse than death.  It is life rescued by Jesus so we won't have to die.  It can never be worth worse or less than death.  But maybe many of them, like me, were never told the fate worse than death exists.  'An fate cannot be worse than death if it is saved by Jesus' is their only (archaic) reasoning on the matter.  And it is not good enough to fit within the world among other Major Religions who have already, since their outset, considered fates worse than death and their meaning with more wisdom.  Why Christianity would have to be the one to forget it is telling.  People think they are immune to fates worse than death just because they believe in Jesus.  But Jesus's struggle wasn't against worse than death, primarily; it was an struggle against death (by not struggling against death).  We didn't need to struggle against death as much anymore because Jesus had saved us.  And so we didn't need to struggle against worse than death, in the later years of Christianity, because Jesus had saved us from that also?

    But I couldn't believe it because what I knew about Anna was happening to me.

    I followed Christianity and this was the result.

    An fate worse than death.

    How could that be?

    Had Christians lost, somewhere along the way in History, that precious knowledge: life could be worse than death?  Had their visions and judgments of Jesus in the modern era skewed their perspective of what the fates meant?  That somehow, if we finally got the message of Jesus's life (we were starting to, as an global community); we would be rescued from the other pole of life's consequence in the morality spectrum.  Unable to feel fates worse than death (which wasn't true); we as Christians had become the most foolish of fools.  We thought we were immune to worse fates than death because we followed an archaic and allegedly anti-scientific age religion: most of us agreed with science now, even though the destinies science was signaling to us may indicate the worsening of types of fates available.  By becoming more exquisite and sophisticated types of technology, suffering could be brought on up to an whole new level.  It was already happening in our oceans.  Wildlife were ending up in traps and plastic ropes that made their lives miserable.  And one would wish death upon them so.

    But it had become so taboo to wish death upon someone, in humanity; even if they were tremendously suffering.  When now we faced this possibility that, with the right technology, and with the wrong kind of Christian, we might throw humanity into just the downward spiral that would spell out its disaster.  Christianity had begun to produce fates worse than death; but I sensed the Saving Grace in history wasn't spent yet.  We had begun to stumble onto them, quite accidentally, because we were getting warmer.  We were getting warmer on God's message about History and the Universe.  So warm some of us ourselves had begun to suffer it.  We were on the trail alright.  The hunt for new wisdom.  If we did get that fact right: death and worse than death were both possible.  Morally, those were the first two facts of the universe.  For all morality and standard of judgment proceeded from an mental division of fates between dying and worse than dying.  Sure, we could starve to death.  But what could we do instead, if we played chicken forever between messianic complexes to see who has the biggest dick?  Or would that itself be an form of the fate worse than death?

    Fate worse than death was important, as an term, for me to get right.  I didn't want to inform anybody of an hard and fast definition to it because I sensed that its meaning would be different for all selves and individuals.  What was worse than death to me may not be worse than death to you.  And it would take an whole community to scale and encompass one definition fully.  Many voices and opinions were needed on the matter.  What did count as an fate worse than death?  One of them, as I'm sure you have heard, is (according to some people) homosexuality.  But in fact it is an fate worse than death to be considered inferior or immoral for something you can't control, not for having that something you can't control in the first place.  Something biologically coded into your body.  And I share the anger and frustration of LGBTπ communities worldwide who deal with an insane public (those homophobic and affected individuals who have been taught since they were young that being gay isn't necessarily genetic but an choice and they can do something about it).  I consider it an fate worse than death to be considered disgusting just because I'm gay—not being gay myself.  I consider it an fate worse than death to be outside (beyond) the truth and affirmation that it is okay to be gay.

    The self that I know is gay.  And that's okay.

    An self in the presence of God.  I mean.  Could I be any more fortunate than that?

    That I get to be so lucky as to have an life.

    But if my ego is fine and healthy this way.  Then doesn't it contain necessary responsibilities.  It's not anybody else who gets to be me.  It's me who gets to be me.  Therefore, I'm the only one who can be me.  And if I'm not okay with being me, then maybe I don't want to fulfill those duties and obligations that come with it.  But I am okay with being me.  And I see my position in History.  And I choose to act on what my heart knows to be true.  I'm the only one who can do it.  I'm the only one who can be me ever.  Once.  And I want to get it right.  I want to do what I am here to do.  Even if that means starting an new religion.  Even if it means I've struggled with faith, and worse than death, and recovery from mental illness with the most horrific turn in fate in order to experience and grow and nurture that part of me who needs to know something other than Christianity.  An Christianity which has only landed more and more people into fates worse than death; which they don't even understand themselves.  I am Christiannan.  My soul has settled on that fact.  I'm here to take up this extreme position of having an new religion this late in the game because I believe it is what God wants me to be.  When I say this, it is somewhat ambivalent; it is what I want to be for God.  But it is also what God made me to become.

    So what if our century held this much importance to God?

    Couldn't we just be big boys and girls and accept God was taking this in an new direction in the days of our own passing lives?

    And why wouldn't God do that?

    What was so misbegotten or unworldly about us that we didn't deserve to be let in on the secrets of an benevolent creator from time to time?  Even if it meant in all of History?  Even if it meant not just us, but because of us more people could be saved?

    Can media desensitization lead to fates worse than death?

    We deserve that connection with God in which we learn about the moral universe; and we understand that we take up those morals in order to deserve to continue living.  In order to make an moral decision, you need to consider death; but you also need to consider what's worse than death.  Both outcomes aren't optimal.  We need to act in order to avoid at every opportunity fates death and fates worse than death.  And sometimes avoiding worse than death means not avoiding death.  That's the first two principles; that's the agreement.

    Why would we want the whole human race to continue if it just meant we were to suffer for eternity?  Wouldn't we rather have an peaceful death and an end to our community or human life on Earth, or the destruction of our whole planet if we, humans, couldn't overcome the fate worse than death?  What if we could be responsible for avoiding so much suffering that we needed to end human progress in all finality?  What if our immoral way of life became so equipped as to escape out into the universe, where meeting other lifeforms and sentient beings we spread destruction and chaos?  Wouldn't we rather stop that before it could happen?  Do we really want the good name of Humans to be associated with, be responsible for endless and endless tragedy?

    There have to be reasons other than daily suffering for life to continue on Earth and elsewhere in the galaxy.

    We need to become stronger than worse than death.

    This is what happened when Jesus came to Earth; we were becoming stronger than death.

    In the Christianna perspective we have the added principle of needing to be stronger than worse than death in order for being stronger than death to count.  What did it matter we could live; if life meant forever suffering?

    Great, you're alive.  But you have no self esteem or pleasure.  You're like an Christian.  Exercising "selflessness."  The Christian contract means you agree to suffer for the sake of an better moral humanity one day.  People constantly on one another for who can suffer the most like Jesus did or in the name of Jesus is the kind of thinking that leads to an phenomenon maybe God wasn't ready to express yet in the life of Jesus: fates worse than that particular crucifixion.  We need to remember, that one of the aspects of crucifixion was to make Jesus suffer so; that it would be worse than death.  That he would wish to die immediately than be put through more torture.  This was perhaps the crux around which his life was built.  He didn't wish to die immediately.  People thought maybe, incorrectly, he wished to be put through more torture.  Enough torture to get his point across.  But when it resulted in his death.  Everyone knew the worst thing that could have been done had been done.

    It wasn't an question of whether he was suffering an fate worse than death anymore.

    But that he had finally been put to peace and now they were suffering an fate worse than death.

    The telling of his resurrection is, therefore, maybe more evidence that the human community as an whole would come to suffer this fate worse than death together: that someone had killed one of their first messiahs.  The story of his resurrection is the story of the traumatization of an whole community.  People asking themselves whether it was necessary to confront death's meaning this way.  That it could be reversed.  Clearly evidence of trauma at an community level.  Maybe worse than death; though in Jesus's case shorter-lived.  Now resided as an community spectre.  And could be even worse one day if we weren't careful.  It could have been worse enough that he didn't die as soon as he did.  It could have been so bad that his fate was no longer about the human dilemma of the line between dying and worse than dying.  If his people would suffer an fate worse than death he would rather die.  And so he stood to oppose it.

    What was worse than death anymore?

    If death was the only price, then he would gladly die to free humanity.

    It was the most gruesome thing in history until the 21st century; when the peoples' mind had been changed and we now had advanced psychology terms for everyday behavior.  We didn't have to worry about being crucified for bad behavior.  We had terms like 'self esteem' and 'instant gratification' now.  The game of life and death was changing in an age when it was more likely that an ego undergo an experience of something worse than death.  Community shaming, body shaming, hate, racism.  It wasn't about killing bodies anymore but something even more subversive that we had to avoid: the fate worse than death.  And we were being given an chance to recognize we now had different morals and customs in History; an planetary culture worth saving.  Even if the ego now knew death to be not the worst possibility.  It may be because of the first two cravings of the human soul: to die well, and never to suffer anything worse than that.  If people knew how to die well in the 21st century, better than they did during Jesus's time, then maybe it was more that they were struggling to wrap their minds around this new fact of mass production, mass media culture, and 21st century luxuries the world had never seen before.  We could be lost in it.  Without anyone to care about us.

    So what if you had all of the necessities for life anymore?  For now, it seemed there could be fates happening to you that didn't discriminate based on whether you had all of the luxuries money could afford.  Instant-gratification culture had brought about an state of mental suffering and depression that could be worse than anyone's conviction about the value of their life.  Historically, we may say life was conventionally thought of as sacred.  But maybe, in the 21st century, not so much.  You could have all of the necessities and still be an moral coward or depressed (an Fate worse than death rather than an Destiny).  And our world was coming to its further enlightened status.  There was another moral well to draw values from now.  We knew better now from individual experience that death wasn't the worst thing.  Life is not only about staying alive; but being in an state better than being better off dead.

    Human sensitivity to this problem had finally reached its breaking point during my lifetime.  Self-esteem, self-confidence, and pleasure could be lost even if the body continued to be healthy enough to live.  Mental health wasn't necessarily dependent on an healthy diet; if one had everything (physically) that one wished this didn't necessarily guarantee one's happiness either.  We were starting to sense that happiness itself was necessary to have an reason to live.  But so often we found ourselves without it.  We were so privileged in ways our ancestors knew nothing of.  But we were not yet guarded from the pitfalls of globalization that lead to terror.  We were caught off guard by having such an abundance of food and commodity that we now needed to adapt to an more common struggle.  Among or between one another.  That game of having the most fun despite our history of human atrocity.  It all amounted to too much for us in most cases.  We couldn't have any fun and our lessons were all ruined because of dictatorships and regimes.  We weren't just struggling to survive anymore.  We were struggling to have an reason to.  We were struggling against an Psychological challenge that goes hand-in-hand with mortality: we need to be happy.  We needed to do more than just live.  Subsist.  We needed to thrive.  We needed corporate enterprise and material Capitalism.  We needed homo economicus and the pursuit of the beautiful business model; one which would have the most virtues over its competitors.  We needed long-standing peace in order to heal our communities.  In order to fill everyone's needs.  We needed to invest in an sustainable and renewable future.  We needed to invest in the common man again; the spirit of business and industrial competition.  The spirit of fairness; of friendliness.  We needed to show one another we were one another's reason to continue.  And you could find happiness with us because we loved you.

    We needed talents and showcasing.  Diversification of artistic merit of all kinds.

    People who would be brave enough to go after their dreams.  For what did we have in this life, really, if not our dreams?  The new global marketplace and economy needed to become more and more an place where people could make their dreams come true.

    Self is the self of the 21st century who says, while we may have tipped the balance in History in favor of less people dying badly; now we were bearing on the other side of the balance scale.  The side in which, although people were dying less badly they now run the risk to have lived badly.  Which was worse than dying badly in some cases.  And an balance had yet to be struck for all of civilization.

    The way I sought to restore the balance was with the message of Anna; an pair messiah with Jesus meant to be associated with the fate worse than death moreso than the first messiah.  The least that we could have learned from Jesus was that death is bad.  Because that's all we did learn from him, in some ways.  But we didn't even have words for what this was yet.  We didn't have words to describe how much worse than death his fate actually was; and all we could take from it as an people was that it could not be repeated.  And so I wanted to instate an new messiah, Anna.  Who would come to stand-in for all of the people who had ever suffered an fate worse than death; and all of those fates worse than Jesus's.  We never did want that to happen in History.  The full moral picture I had learned from God took Jesus's moral philosophy an step further.  I wasn't trying to avoid worse than death by dying; but I wasn't trying to avoid dying by suffering the fate worse than death.

    Death is just the absence of worse conditions.

    The final release from all worldly suffering.

    If humanity cannot overcome the fate worse than death; we may need to consider other options.

    What is it worth to us; that how much worse than death we experience is it worth to have to finally and quickly say the first conclusion: we could end all suffering forever.  Say we (as we are unless we change our minds, make the decision to follow me, believe that the Christianna has an valuable point) escape into the galaxy where we spread human corruption to other intelligent beings?  Wouldn't preventing that from happening be the first thing?  (Perhaps the first thing about their important travel here in contrast with our important travel there (to them and their universes)).  We had to perfect humanity so that they would want to come visit us in outerspace at Planet Earth.  It was our duty as non-trivial science agents and possibly the most religious of all of us.  But when it is in flux of what that definition means; it is fair to say you identify on some scale and part of it.

    Therefore it is our duty to perfect the human soul before we ever have our hands on deep space travel.  We cannot be let to become like an virus breaking out into intergalactic culture.  We need to access new intergalactic resources and life forms responsibly.  Acknowledging an moralistic need for consideration of what's worse than death.

    Therefore self is the continuation of other selves; the whole project of humanity as we grow outward into planetary space.  By taking up Jesus's role as other selves who understood his message.  The need to have an reason to live in this universe indefinitely.  The need to have an reason to live in this universe indefinitely is fulfilled by picking up and continuing on the traditions of the foremost leaders among our ancestry as selves whose will it is to do that.

    What could be more egotistical than thinking all of this about Taoism?

Go to Next Chapter