Today’s essay is dedicated to what the Hedonist knows that the Ascetic doesn't.
I won't go so far as to say that the Ascetic is cheating, more so because it's impossible to cheat than for any other reason. On this path of remembrance of our wholeness, there is only remembering, so there can't be any cheating. There's no way to counterfeit remembrance.
I feel such grief about the Ascetic path.
I don't entirely know why, but I know that it saddens me when people dear to me choose it. It feels counterfeit even though it's not technically. There's something in me that says “don't believe the hype!” It's all fine and good, but there's so much that feeds the spiritual ego. I mean, it's just a fricking all-you-can-eat buffet num num nummies for the spiritual ego. It's a Pooja table and ghee bath of presents to the spiritual ego, you know. God knows I fall into that so easily.
As strange as it may seem, the path of Hedonist is correct for me.
If wishing this path away could make it so, long ago I would have dealt with that baggage, but here we are – here we are with the paraphernalia, the contraband of the Heretic, and the very, very real consequential decisions those entail. They are no joke.
It costs plenty to be a Hedonist, for the whole society is structured by the Ascetic who in large part have run the bureaucracy of things… certainly not the entirety of the system, but the structure thereof because that's what the Ascetic is good at – the denial, the limitations, the routine. This order creates an enormous amount of strength in its rigidity, and then we are thankful for this for it must exist. However, it is not all of existence, and it is not the entirety of the truth. They have put in place the penalties and laws that determine what is and is not contraband.
I feel grief for the Hedonist, for I am one, and it's taken me a long time to stop hiding.
It costs a lot to tell the truth, but it costs more to hide, and it costs from a place where currency can't put Humpty Dumpty back together. That essence of self that it costs to not speak the truth can’t be purchased with money or even your own hide.
I just have to keep asking to be burned away that which isn't me. I feel the lightening of my being, but it feels like loss so often when I forget to remember, but when I remember to remember, I see myself changing from a carbon ember to the white ash, to the smoke.
And I remember.
I remember the essence of myself in this incarnation, in this body, in this flesh, there is a desire for a lusty, luscious, juicy, wonderful, abundant life.
Of course, many fears arise. Have I paid my dues? Have I earned it?
Is it ever possible for anyone to deserve… anything? Such my sense is that either none of us deserve to live a lusty, beautiful, juicy abundant life or else all of us deserve it. I cannot imagine a universe where some of us deserve it and some of us don't.
For who would be the judge except we ourselves, and doesn't that just get us right back to where we started?
So instead of being here or there, away or close, left or right, top or bottom, you find the center of the known universe in ourselves.
Then we go there to remember, because this is what the Hedonist knows that the Ascetic doesn't, although it is not cheating because there cannot be thus, if there was a thing called cheating, this would be it. What I mean by this is – you gut yourself when you deny attachment by not allowing it to be in the first place.
How can you know attachment without loss? Can you know loss without attachment? There's nothing to acceed from without attachment, of course.
I ask you to consider getting attached, being attached, stepping inside the body, fully inhabiting all the pieces, scanning, noticing where you've inherited loss of connection. Which square inch of your being has been disowned?
Don't worry about why it was disowned. It's always interesting, but not important – not always. Anyhow, you'll know it if it is.
The Hedonist knows what a joy it is to inhabit every square inch of this being, to use the carnal thoughts for what they're for, and to be the being that inspires us.
Inspira
“Inspire” means to breathe, to pull the spirit into our body.
The beautiful thing about Spanish is that the words for “to take a deep breath” are “inspira profunda,” which transliterates as “inspire profoundly.” That's so much clearer of an understanding of what it is to be a spiritual being. It means that you breathe deeply, that you inspire profoundly. It doesn’t have to be much more complicated than that.
I feel like crying. I feel like begging, I feel like flaying myself open in some sufficiently beautiful way that will inspire the Ascetics to consider your Hedonist brothers and sisters and to let yourself be confronted not by us but by yourself.
Please remember that it is you that is confronting yourself. Even though I may seem that I have given you this reaction, that I have triggered it in you, that is to give me far too much power.
I really hate that.
We so often say “she triggered me,” which is straight-up victim mentality. “I was triggered” is more neutral, but it's still passive voice. The grammar nerds will tell you not to speak in passive voice, and I agree. “She triggered me” is more than bad English, it’s bad sovereignty.
Whatever the other person was doing, it's just a behavior. It's not who they are. It's hard to remember this.
“I reacted to this Hedonist.” That’s what happened.
I triggered myself when this person did this thing… but how much harder is that to say? How much harder is that power to stand in within yourself? ‘Cause I hate it... there's a hardened part of me that just hates that vulnerability of my own sovereignty. I don't want to hear “I did that to myself.”
Please, for your own sake and for mine consider empowering yourself in this way so that we can both stop projecting on each other. It's time to see clearly, beyond our judgements.
We somehow have to start to put Humpty back together, together.
This is not a lecture from a Hedonist to Ascetics. It really is me rolling over with my spine on the ground and my belly facing you like a cute puppy to say “come pet me, I want to be friends.”
The drop
Yeah, if you choose to come along on the path of the Hedonist you're going to feel some stuff. I feel a lot of stuff. This is the ticket to the popcorn shows that you already bought.
I just want you to know the heart and belly you incarnated with, and I want you to feel your viscera. You're a vibrating field of the tender finest vibrations and of the biggest earthquakes of your soul. They are so beautiful. Everything in between is worth every bit of it, especially the moment right after the rollercoaster drops.
I want to say I'll be there for you at that moment, but I can't know that this isn’t so, because some of these pieces of the path we must walk alone. Please remember in those moments that others have walked this path before. Feel their footsteps calling backwards from the future, leading you onwards. Be grateful for those that have gone before in this place, and this space you will begin to fold time.
It’s an honored place. It is a sacred one. It is a path your feet must walk.
So if this has reached your ear ears in a prominent time or in a prominent place, consider your role in this space and time. Can it be defined by a box as small as the one that you have been putting yourself into and out of and into again, tightening down the corners? Is this really working for you?
If it is not, the day will come, the moment will bring a crack in the bell as it rings. You will know, never again, will it be rung in that same way, in that same place, in that same time, and in this space of knowing and doing that which you've never done before you will find yourself a Hedonist once more.
Abrazos from Oaxaca,
Cris and Team Dragon