We live in a world where half of us believe in possession. We live in a world where exorcisms have genuinely ‘healed’ some and the insane asylums simply killed us. We live in a world where one medicine on the right day will heal one and make another worse.

We live in a world where everybody ages in misery. You see it in their eyes. They look longingly at the end of their days. Without the energy to be awake all day, without the energy to speak. Every word will take it out of them, to listen will hurt them. Food is nothing to them.

We live in a world where planes, busses, cars or boats may go down at any point. Ask the executive who worked on the top floor of the twin towers how felt.

We live in a world where men can be lost for many many months, they return to our great society and live restlessly, their aches and pains get worse. Warriors killing themselves, nobody to help.

We know our politician don’t mean well. You give your whole life with tears just to do a little better.

Men take opioids and drone out the noise with podcasts and constant erroneous entertainment. Porn.

You muster up the energy to go to the Amazon, you take drugs, you vommit and shit yourself. You die. You come back. You are a changed man. And yet after some time, “maybe it’s time I go back and get more insights". Is this the best you believe of yourself.

Do you not believe you could simply look to the sky and the hills, see the blue sky and the clouds. Go fishing in the rain. Do you not believe that you could just sit there and say, “maybe it’s time I stop being a cunt.” You have thought it before, but you don’t change. Why not? Why is it so impossible for man, the inventor of rockets and performer of perfection, to simply come home and not be a cunt?

Why must you think about how someone else feels?

Is there another way?

How badly do you want it? How much do you hate right now? What else is possible? Possible beyond your imagination.

To create great art, lost in the process. To sip coffee and live effortlessly, unconflicted, completely thought through, unwaivered by the jabs and pokes of society, untouched by the deep cuts of your mother and family. Is this a life possible to you? What else is there to do other than exploring this question? What is available to you?

Why care about the words and insights of a man who does not even think about the beautiful life you aspire to? A man who takes carts to the bottom of a hill and says that Everest isn’t all that. Who laughs and says how cute at an animal in a zoo. When there are wild bears, tigers, sharks, salt waters, eagles, falcons, owls, horses, buffalo, hippos, whales. Why would you feel so impacted by these common men? Where does it hurt you? Which part of your crystal palace has it cracked? What fear did it arise with in you? What did the words remind you of? Why not sit down and think about it? This is a broken leg you are bringing to championship fight. Think of how much it must be crippling you, the remnants of these aches and pains are still with in you, I know it, you feel it, it is an annoying hum throughout your body. In your head, in your legs, a constant slight vibration, slowing you. Remember what it was like to be free, to not be aware of your body, to be as light as a dove, gliding over the tree, flapping its wing, gracefully, effortlessly, without resistance.

Remember Ronaldinho, remember that time you were playing football and it all came so easy, defending, passing, goal keeping, just effortlessly, simply, clinically. Remember gliding down that hill, losing yourself for a moment, being afraid and coming out of it. Feel how it would feel to dance, to play music, not impactfully, not for an audience, not to win or to score points, but reach your absolute bliss and perfection. For you body and fists to glide into the ribs of your enemy, is this something possible to the man who cares about what people may think.