It’s one of those classic religious paradoxes. A tricky little question: if fate is already set in stone, why even bother trying? To dodge the contradiction, they claim God gave people free will—the freedom to act however they want and deal with the fallout. Since cause and effect are undeniable, they had to find a way to reconcile preordained destiny with actual choice...
So, you’ve got this blueprint called destiny that’s unchangeable by definition, but then you have the blatant reality of cause and effect. They had to squeeze both into some kind of predestined framework just to prevent the whole concept from collapsing under its own weight. One contradicts the other...
Of course it bugs you if everything is scripted. It hits that logical nerve: do I actually have any say in how my life unfolds? Because if I don't, how can an action I take trigger a reaction that wouldn't have happened without me? You basically end up with two paths. Either there’s no destiny and life is just a chaotic pile of random causes and effects, or everything—even the stuff that feels totally spontaneous—is actually programmed, remote-controlled by the finger of fate. That brings us right back to the suspicion that we're being steered by something else entirely, which triggers that primal, gut-level fear. Being controlled by something I can't grasp, with no clue what its plans are for me. Worse, I can't pivot or influence this damn destiny; I just have to sit here and wait to see what happens. It leaves you feeling helpless, staring at these undefined rules that supposedly guide us, with zero proof of what's actually pulling the strings. Like a kid playing with dolls that think they're self-aware, while they're really just being moved by something else...
Just dropping this here real quick because I need to catch some sleep, and honestly, I’m feeling a bit under the weather... not the kind of thing you want in your system. Look, obviously you can't just take your frustrations out on other people, whether that's a slap in the face or ten years in a Gulag, but certain individuals—serial killers, for instance—just need to be removed from society to stop the bleeding. Even if someone is completely detached from reality, unfit for trial, or can't wrap their head around why what they're doing is wrong, we have to prevent them from hurting anyone, including themselves. It's on the government to allocate the funds to figure out how to help these people while also studying them to understand the human psyche. Maybe then we can actually prevent another kid from turning into a sociopath. Sure, society and upbringing play a part, but it's all connected...
If you want a constructive conversation, you need openness and at least some level of emotional restraint, because sliding into a shouting match is way too easy. The real trick in any debate is facing an opinion that’s the complete opposite of yours and staying chill—maybe even asking, "Okay, I don't see it that way, but walk me through it." If the other person doesn't start yelling or getting aggressive and instead sticks to calm arguments, you can end up with a talk where nobody changes their mind, but everyone stays civil and respectful.
But I'll leave that to the experts.
That's what psychologists and psychiatrists are for. The real question is, who treats them when they finally snap?🤷😁
Sometimes, when life is hitting you from every angle, it’s hard to find the patience to just sit there and take someone's outbursts, especially when you know they're just masking frustration, sadness, or rage. A cry for help? Here's another extreme, but spot-on example. Serial killers. There's no such thing as Hannibal Lecter or Michael Myers. They're just people with broken psyches, usually victims of childhood abuse. But no matter how much empathy you have for them or how well you understand their impulses, those types have to be removed from society because their behavior is antisocial, illegal, and plain dangerous. Should we throw them into cages, feed them nothing but bread and water, and keep them shackled until they die? No. Does the government actually have the will or the budget to provide lifelong psychological care for everyone? No.
Sure, you could argue that, but love isn't the only thing driving people, even if it’s one of the better reasons. You could spin it any way you want—claiming every destructive act is just a desperate cry for help (aka love) or a reaction to its absence. To me, reducing everything to that feels a bit too simplistic. People are driven by all sorts of things. It ranges from pure selfishness—which, fine, you could call self-love—to hatred and rage, which might be a plea for affection, or maybe they just aren't. Even if we tried to pin every human action to some core need for love, whether through giving it or rebelling against its lack, I don't think that covers the whole spectrum. And even if it did, the consequences of those "cries for love" range from incredibly noble to absolutely horrific. I get how compassion and empathy drove someone like Mahatma Gandhi or Mother Teresa. But at the same time, I can see how a total void of love could drive someone like Hitler, Mussolini, Frank, Hirohito, or Stalin just as strongly, if not more so... That doesn't mean it's okay to murder 55 million people just because a handful of dictators felt unloved during their childhood in a few different countries. We don't even have to go that far back. Look at extreme nationalism. Some claim it's just "love for the country," arguing you can build a love for humanity on top of it, but history has shown us time and again that it usually works the exact opposite way.
Sometimes it's just an adrenaline rush in a high-stakes situation, triggering those raw, primal instincts deep inside us. I'm not saying this to prove everyone is a selfish jerk. Some people are, some aren't. I just don't buy that love, or the lack of it, is the sole engine behind everything humans do.
Look, I don't want to sound like a total jerk here, but everything I laid out in my last post isn't necessarily some kind of disaster or a curse. Honestly? It’s the opposite. There’s actually a certain level of romance in the way people struggle to find meaning—often in pretty moving ways—within their own heads, trying to make sense of their lives and everyone else's too...
That internal drive is nothing more than pure persistence—call it willpower if you want.
Is it fueled by fear of failure, the hope for a payoff, or just a raw obsession with something? Whether it’s collecting coasters, lurking on some hyper-niche forum, or killing yourself at the gym to jump further, run faster, or lift heavier while playing pretend as Tarzan from Appalachia... it doesn't matter. All of that is just a reflection of the impressions life leaves on you. If I’d been into Star Trek instead of Conan as a kid, there’s a good chance I would’ve gravitated toward science over fantasy. To put it bluntly—though I'm oversimplifying here—I probably would've headed to an art school instead of a tech institute.
How does it all play out? Why does one person lean toward Conan while another goes for Spock? Since we're on the topic, it mostly comes down to your environment and what was shoved in front of you growing up. Did you spend your time building model planes and ships, or were you obsessed with action figures—warriors, princesses, witches, monsters—building imaginary castles and haunted ruins in your head...
Besides a bit of parental influence and them bleeding their own interests onto their kids, what else tips the scale between Conan and Spock? Maybe a psychiatrist could give me a straight answer, but honestly, I don't think there's any grand mysticism or cosmic purpose behind it.
Sure, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe destiny exists, or spirits, or reincarnation, or whatever. But since there’s zero hard evidence proving fate exists, I’m leaning toward the idea that it’s all just chance. A chain reaction of micro-events and a natural predisposition toward certain things. Is interest in something predestined? I don't know. It's like wondering why one kid is genetically built to sprint while another is naturally better at math. Heredity? Some forgotten gene from the early days in Africa, or just a random spark from an ancestor who happened to be good at numbers? It's no more mystical than wondering why someone ends up with curly hair when both parents have straight hair.
I think if people feel they need the concept of "fate," it's because they can't stomach the idea that everything they see—including themselves—is just the result of a random initial impulse followed by a mess of coincidental causes and adaptations. To avoid that discomfort, they invent some massive hidden plan. They sit around hoping Peter Pan, King Arthur, Captain Picard, or Neo will show up to reveal the terrifying possibility that none of this actually means anything. Or maybe it does, and I just don't know... but again, no proof...
Timothy Kern11 said:@lone rider, I wanted to add a few thoughts to that physics analogy. I agree that the dominant forces today aren't exactly romantic, hippie-ish, or even anything resembling old-school chivalry. But they aren't as distorted as they look on the surface, either. Beneath the facades built up by the mainstream media, there is real human substance—people who understand the truth but won't show it until a critical mass is ready to step forward. That’s why I think some external influence is actually necessary. It can act as the catalyst to start that process of uncovering the truth. People are already starting to reveal themselves, but it's usually hidden behind a mask of rebellion or hyper-aggressive posturing. Underneath all that noise, you'll find bitter, romantic souls using aggression to hide their pain. That aggression isn't true malice; it's a cry for help and a demand for change. And those changes should head exactly where you pointed them in your post.
I agree things are backwards right now, but I don't think you should retreat from reality like a hermit because of it. Quite the opposite. You have to stay engaged. You have to laugh, listen, speak up, and participate. That is the only way we can actually impact our surroundings and drive the changes we want and deserve.
The problem is that when everything is rigged and selfish behavior pays off, society—especially kids—is presented with a conclusion that seems perfectly logical at first glance. It basically tells them: why bother with anything else besides chasing cash through shady means? Do that, and you'll be a big shot in society. Meanwhile, you've got these losers preaching about education and outdated, naive views of the world, trying to convince us—and we know what's up here—about some romantic nonsense. On one hand, that mindset is understandable because society essentially turns a blind eye to, or even encourages, these toxic principles. This doesn't just lead to crime; it leads to a total decay of critical thinking. Society splits into groups: those who bury their heads in the sand (out of helplessness, exhaustion, or pure disappointment) and those who, as we all know, step over bodies to get whatever they want. Of course, it's not strictly black and white, but it's pretty close. In such a fractured society—where the solid middle class is shrinking, leaving people who aren't rich enough to throw money around like confetti but aren't poor enough to struggle for every cent—we see this exact kind of ideological divide. Sure, some kid in a hip-hop group might vent his frustrations on stage. Fine. That's a form of critique, a cry for help, though in many cases, it's just mindless ego. But if nothing is done to change the status quo, it remains just a flashy performance. And whether a local rapper actually makes it depends more on connections than actual talent.
I see retreating from reality as one way for someone to live exactly how they want without hurting anyone else. If someone buries themselves in books and movies, imagining they're a character in a fantasy novel living in a treehouse, that's their right, provided they aren't causing trouble. On the other hand, I think staying aware of what's happening around us is vital. Only then can someone—if they actually have the will to think—develop awareness, criticism, and hopefully, action. Unfortunately, or fortunately, that's a whole different topic. The only thing that gives a person true security (with imagination being a nice bonus) is financial independence, but that's opening up a whole new can of worms... Look, even in the Wild West, if you actually look at the history instead of the movies, things weren't exactly romantic. You didn't have Clint Eastwood, Charles Bronson, or Sam Elliott strolling down every dusty street, and let's be real, the women weren't all looking like Claudia Cardinale or Angie Dickinson. It was gritty, exhausting, and frankly, pretty shitty. Sure, there were good moments—there are in every era—but it wasn't a postcard. It’s the same deal with Vikings not looking like Norse gods, or knights being anything other than a bunch of guys fighting for themselves. Fortunately, fiction takes those real eras and their people and turns them into myths. It’s not really about the violence or the constant struggle caused by lacking modern tech... though that defined their lives. Instead, the stories focus on qualities like courage, integrity, fair play, and freedom of thought.
briskraven28 said:But that’s precisely where the lack of trust shows up—when we start deciding what's best for someone else. Thinking "I don't want to hurt you" or "I want to protect you" (all under the guise of "good intentions") implies we view that person as less capable than ourselves... and frankly, can one truly trust someone they deem less capable? So, I am in total agreement with N'dugu; there is no room for "intentions" in a real friendship—because wherever there is an intention, there is a goal, and wherever there is a goal, there is calculation. (intention = calculation) I could understand a friend staying silent because they simply weren't ready to talk about it, but withholding information specifically to protect me... well, that's where things start to feel wrong.
Something crossed my mind. It might be a tangent, but it fits here: that sense of satisfaction and fulfillment you get from being the one to offer comfort, support, or a shoulder to lean on when a friend hits rock bottom. That little hit of dopamine you get from helping someone close to you almost makes you wonder—do we secretly hope things go south just so we can step in and feel useful and fulfilled? Obviously, I don't want anything bad to happen to the people I care about, but I won't lie about how good it feels to provide that support when it matters most. Especially since, and take this with a grain of salt, I have zero patience for weakness. When I can help a friend fight back against their circumstances—whether that means letting them vent through rage, break down and cry, or pivot into some manic, hyper-productive mode just to cope—I'll do it. Anyway, just throwing these thoughts out there... might be drifting off-topic, but seemed worth mentioning.
When I think about friendship, I can't help but feel like its true essence got buried somewhere in the past... leaving us with nothing but old stories to go on.
I'm not really talking about how everyone’s turned into a total materialist, or how everything nowadays gets filtered through some lens of self-interest and profit. It’s more about the lack of time... and more importantly, the complete absence of any real criteria that would even allow us to hope for change in the first place...
The death of critical thinking, the vanishing demand for knowledge-based careers, the decay of culture and art, and work itself... honestly, where do you even start... The problem is a total lack of passion. People don't bother working on anything that actually matters unless there’s an immediate payoff. Everyone's just chasing that modern holy trinity: clout—whether that's being the talk of the local pub or trending on social media—status symbols, and hanging out with a curated crowd based entirely on those first two...
Friendship... it used to require this level of selflessness that people today act like is some kind of legendary heroic feat. It's not even a real thing anymore. You don't even see it in the stories we tell kids. Nowadays, the plot always ends with the girl riding off with the richest prince in the kingdom. Honestly, who gives a damn about genuine love if he isn't showing up with the keys to a Ferrari and enough gold around his neck to sink a boat...
The fact that someone would actually step up for a friend—even if it’s just a platonic thing—and go out of their way to carry the heavy lifting without being asked... people just write that off. They call it being a pushover or just plain uncool and passive. It’s like you can’t even show up for people anymore because you're too worried about looking desperate or being judged by the crowd...
Let them think if they even have the brainpower left... They can ponder whatever they want, but I still stand by what I said. Real friendship isn't just some business transaction or a way to climb the social ladder. It’s something else entirely, something that doesn't fit into any of those shallow categories...
In my old, romanticized, hippie-cowboy brain, friendship carries the same weight as keeping your word, being brave, staying honest, and playing fair. It’s about selflessness and, above all, love. But I’m not talking about that kind of love where two people try to pull magic tricks just to get laid... I mean the kind of love found in those silly picture books, where you share something with a brother, cut it into uneven pieces, and give him the bigger half... Nowadays, most people would just laugh at that. At best, they’ll give you some lip and say, "Hey, why don't you just split that evenly among us, brother?"... The more time passes, the more I expect that "dear brother" to just plow right through us and snatch whatever little we have left... So what now? Honestly, the easiest move is just to shrug your shoulders and admit there's nothing left to be done... Maybe we can't. Probably can't do much about it, honestly... but that doesn't mean we just drift with the current and let life shape us however it feels like. There’s this beautiful analogy in physics that perfectly captures the state of society today and just how easily the masses can be led... An object at rest stays at rest until some outside force kicks it into gear... basic physics. Look, I’m just not interested in letting outside forces mess with my head, especially not the kind of nonsense that's running rampant these days. I'd rather just do my own thing... Even if it’s for nothing else, I’m doing it because I can't shake the feeling that I haven't betrayed my own principles... even when everything happening around me makes it look like the whole world is upside down... So what if they are. Doesn't mean they're actually any good. Can't people just change? Whatever. By refusing to play along with that kind of compromise, at least I get the satisfaction of knowing I didn't trample over my own principles...
Let them laugh and call me a weirdo if I drop cash on some random gift for my best friend. I don't give a damn if they think I’m being frivolous. Like their desperate climb for social status comes for free or something... Give me a break. If they can't wrap their heads around the fact that I can spend an entire night hanging out in a room with a female friend without things turning physical—and that those nights are actually more meaningful and worth way more than chasing a pack of shallow, airheaded models—then fine. Let them believe what they want. Who cares. They’ll never get it anyway. Their priorities are basically the exact opposite of mine... Giving something to a friend, or someone you love unconditionally, and actually finding joy in their happiness—knowing it was your actions that put that smile on their face? To most people today, that’s some incomprehensible mystery. They see it as something worthy of scorn, if not outright insanity. And that's not even touching on anything bigger than that...
Fine, let them think what they want. I'd much rather be called crazy if it means keeping the sound of laughter and the honest, happy eyes of my best friends in my head...
Amanda Roberts21 said:I read him a long time ago, but what you're saying really reminds me of his journeys into other realities.
Beyond that, it brings to mind those hypnagogic states—you know, when you're drifting off to sleep or waking up from a nonsensical dream where you're lucid, and suddenly thoughts, visions, and sensations become weirdly, even bizarrely, intertwined.
Plus, I'm honestly not even sure what "reality" is anymore. Are we just conditioned to see things the way we do because society and our upbringing—with their careful selection of impressions—have dictated what we should look at, how we should look at it, and how we should experience everything?
I was reading recently about how at birth, a child has the highest number of neural connections in their entire life. As we grow through conditioning and upbringing, most of those connections snap, leaving only the ones that get heavily reinforced through repetition and training. Think about that—it means we start with infinite potential, only to spend our whole lives narrowing it down. We aren't just limiting our opportunities; we're shrinking our very perception of reality. In a sense, we're just regressing as we age.
Be careful with the castaneda stuff. Take small doses, go slow... don't end up blowing a fuse or something. 😉
Read the Power story and Journey to Ixtlan this summer. Don Juan and Don Genaro are pretty interesting characters. I dig how much their philosophy ties back to nature.
Lisa Barnes3 said:seriously, why does everyone have "Bab" in their name?🤷
🤣
Who knows? Maybe it's just some old-school thing... Actually, Bab means father, not mother. It's an Indian suffix used for saints and avatars. For example, Meher Baba translates to merciful father.
Nicholas Edwards10 said:I'm curious about what you guys actually feel when you see feet. Is it passion? Pure arousal? Just a physical rush?
Is looking at a woman's feet basically the same high as looking at her chest??🤷
Arousal, obviously. It's the same deal if breasts are your thing too. I'm not talking about the standard view where everyone's supposed to be turned on by them. Feet are more of a specialized niche. They aren't just generic body parts like asses or tits. To me, fetishes for parts of the body that aren't inherently sexual baits feel more intimate. For instance, someone might find feet totally gross, while someone else could spend all day with a woman's feet on their face and love every second... whereas nobody really calls breasts "gross" unless they're just flat as pancakes.
wanderingscout22 said:How do I actually move past this? I really don't want to be defined by a fetish... though, if I'm being honest, I know for a fact that I am when it comes to feet.
Why would you even try to "cure" yourself? Honestly, the whole idea of needing a cure is what gets me. It’s not a disease, for God's sake. Some guys dig big chests, others go for backsides, some like certain hair lengths... whatever. I've got a thing for feet and plenty of other stuff too😍and it doesn't cause me any trouble whatsoever. Just own it and enjoy life...
Just a little something, though it was quite a while ago. I’m planning on diving back into his work this summer. I’ve read plenty over the years—stuff from Sai baba, Meher baba, Babajia, and the like—but it’s been ages since I really sat down with it. There’s some interesting thought there, even if I prefer keeping my distance so I don't end up following anyone blindly like a mindless drone...
What's going on here, people? Another thread died? Figures. Nothing good ever lasts long enough... I was actually looking forward to reading more about those folks who are stuck in limbo—knowing they aren't what they claim to be, wishing they could be something else, but just being unable to make the jump. What an absolute mess of words. Honestly, the devil is in the details. All these weird vibes you guys are putting out are starting to rub off on me. Oops.
Charles Smith8 might be onto something there. Who knows what’s buried in our subconscious from back before we even realized we existed...
I remember certain things I was dead sure I hadn't experienced in this lifetime, only to realize years later that I actually had. It was just that my current feelings, doubts, and desires had layered over them so much that they felt like distant echoes from some ancient past. It’s the same deal with dreams. I remember once, when I wasn't exactly a kid anymore, watching a horror movie right before bed just as an experiment. I never really had issues with it back then—nothing more than your average kid—but recently I decided to intentionally watch the Texas massacre, the old 1974 version. I tried to analyze what specifically makes that movie terrifying without letting it force its way into my head so I couldn't sleep. Turns out, I still couldn't sleep. But the fear wasn't about someone actually breaking into my room with a chainsaw; it was more of a creeping dread from the sheer wrongness—and I hate using that word because "wrong" is so subjective—that permeates the film. It’s the atmosphere, not a bloodbath. Anyway, not to drag this out, but I've come to the conclusion that if dreams have any meaning at all, I don't recognize it as such. To me, it looks like just a way for the brain to process impressions gathered during the day. The brain just sorts them into designated slots, clearing out the excess. Something like that. So why didn't I dream of anything else equally unsettling after a movie that hits that hard? Simply because that impression stayed fresh and unprocessed in my brain. One other thing feels weird. This sounds ridiculous, but I used to be able to feel it, though I haven't in a long time. The easiest way to describe the sensation would be this: imagine your lips are covered in tiny ridges, making them feel rough, like a piece of corrugated plastic tubing. With that sensation on your lips, a second feeling kicks in, as if your lips are rapidly sliding left and right, or back and forth, sliding over one another. Sounds silly, I know, but it happened to me more than a few times.
Look, I wasn't exactly born through the usual channels. I don't get this sense of moving through some kind of tunnel, just these jarring, opposing extremes. One second it’s something perfectly smooth and sterile, pure white, then suddenly it’s heavy, jagged, and rough. Something tiny holding up something massive. It all just plays out like a series of flashes passing right in front of my eyes...
It’s not hallucinations. It’s more like this sensation... thoughts constantly clashing over something massive yet somehow tiny at the same time. Like this quiet voice that manages to be piercingly loud, almost screaming at me, wrapped up in this underlying fear. Then there's the feeling of sliding through something perfectly smooth and level, only to slam straight into chaos—a nightmare of jagged edges and sharp points—and I'm moving through it all at high speed.
This exact thing has been happening to me since I was a kid. It only hits occasionally, so I never really gave it much thought, but reading this definitely caught me off guard. Usually, when it happens, I first see something incredibly pure, white, and completely smooth. Then comes the dark stuff—crinkled, rough, and sharp. After that, it's images of things that are impossibly huge followed by things that are microscopically small, or a mix of both. Like seeing something massive and heavy standing right on top of something tiny and distant. That whiteness and purity before the rough, crumpled part sometimes gets even thinner, paler, and finer, just before hitting that jagged mess. And there's never an emotion attached to it, like sadness or joy. Just a sensation...
Anthony Rivera17 said:You're being far too broad with your generalizations... just look at how "primitive" communities manage to live in harmony with the environment through self-sufficiency... the root of our current crisis is painfully obvious = the white man... I'm not being a racist, but history bears it out, and no argument can truly refute it... EVIL began its expansion in lockstep with the expansion of the white man, and it happened precisely at the expense of everything else... Those communities that the very same white establishment branded as "primitive" and decided to wipe out if "assimilation"—basically forced conversion—couldn't be achieved... a process that continues to this day:
That’s exactly what I was getting at in my first post. It’s not about using natural resources; it’s about using them without being greedy. I'll give you this: in this specific slice of history, white people are responsible for most of the crap that's happened to the planet. If we had just used resources at a sustainable rate that didn't screw anyone over, we wouldn't be in this spot. But that manufactured delusion—the idea that white people are superior and exist just to conquer and enslave everything in their path—created the disaster we're dealing with now.