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So I finished reading Waking Up, by Sam Harris. Would reccommend it, it’s less a pure “spirituality without religion” manual as perhaps a way to lure pure, innocent atheists into looking at secularized Buddhism.

Which means it ended up being more up my alley than I was anticipating.

The book mentions that the first part of of our brain that becomes “conscious” is the right side of our brain, which is non-verbal. The left, language-baring part of our brain activates later and eventually dominates the other part of our brain…

so essentially, what could be our actual self is eventually shoved into a corner and falsely replaced by a chatty asshole that feels the need to endlessly describe and create a false storyline for everything that occurs. Ever.


Relatedly, I have found out that I yell at myself just as angrily for forgetting to check the mail when I’m doing my laundry as I used to about getting high and completely screwing up my life. Then I start laughing and feel insane.


Otherwise I’ve still been trying to figure out the buddhist soul thing, and keep feeling like I get close to understanding it, and snapping back to not. Is that even possible?

Essentially what is “me” is constructed of a mixture of other materials, generations of other people’s decisions, and a heavily flucuating mindset and a weird little durable body.

And we’re all as weird and complex. Sometimes I hook into the feeling, sometimes, at work, that there’s hundreds of us hooked up to computers, having our own internal dialogues and having our own quiet battles, while parroting the words of a human being we are never going to met, but will know intimately for a few hours.


Love just seems impossible to me now, considering how we’re all just kind of isolated in these mind/body units that are not really capable of understanding ourselves, and have no chance of completely understanding the world around us or the other people in it, no matter how hard we try.