Tree Burning
And Watching from a Psychically Safe Distance
The World is Your Lab
I knew you would appear.
You did a little wish-granting this past week, didn’t you, dear reader? Played the role of djinn for a bit?
I know you did. That’s why I knew you’d be here. I summoned you.
It was my desire. I intended for you to be here.
I rubbed the lamp to bring you. I rubbed it with the passion of a hotblooded woodworker sanding smooth a wooden dowel.
I take it you’ve got some small dribbling of your desires now. You must at least think you know what you want, which is exactly where you ought to be. That means you’re ready for the fun part. You’re ready to start living them. You’re ready to start experimenting.
I want you to think of it as exactly that. An experiment.
You’re an intelligent and sophisticated person, my dear reader. I know this because why else would you be here?
But we’ll assume for a moment the neurally-challenged are also in attendance, or perhaps that your mind is still being an autismo. Framing this as an experiment is like handing your mind a fidget toy. The inner autist is quelled by the assumption of reason it provides. The mind is far less likely to have a freakout if it’s not being overstimulated when you introduce something new.
I challenge you to suspend your disbelief for this experiment. Whatever beliefs you assume going forward, I want you to fully entertain them throughout the entirety of it, to the best of your scant abilities.
Assume the world is your lab. As we talked about earlier on, beliefs are input-output machines. Your job as the researcher is to record the real-world results of the beliefs you hold.
For the doubter, what’s the harm? So many beliefs are stupid, right? Held by the smoothest of brains? An intelligent person would never fall for anything stupid. In fact, I’m sure you will prove yourself correct. Then you can return to your miserable existence, asshole having regained enough of its pucker to kiss the head of the Black Cube’s vile, cubic pecker.
But for those who already know the power of beliefs, you know exactly what I’m asking you to do.
Choose your beliefs wisely, but not yet.
Come. Take my hand.
It’s okay, no homo this time.
Let me show you the way.
Chopping Wood
We wander still through the darkness beyond the first door.
It is in darkness that seeds grow, dear reader. Your beliefs are the seeds you will plant to bring your desires to life.
I told you to think of three desires. Now you will choose one. Just one for now.
Imagine your desire is a fully grown tree, everything you wanted fully realized. What fruits does it bear? In the fruits, you see the labors.
Go ahead and pick that fruit. Take a good look at how ripe and succulent it looks, how it feels to hold it in your hand.
Now, smash that fucking fruit.
You heard me.
How does it feel?
Do you feel loss? Do you feel sad? Averse? Confused?
You shouldn’t. It’s only one fruit. The tree is full of them. They grow back.
Let’s assume I handed you an axe and told you to chop that tree down. In fact, here you go. Get to work Paul Bunyan. Don’t you dare look away. You will watch as your tree crashes to Earth. And now, we’re going to set it ablaze.
This is how you should look at your desires. Fully realized, then light them up like a bonfire, baby. Woo!
“I don’t understand, David! Why did we waste time with these desires if you just want me to burn them? When am I going to get girls?”
My sweet, but puerile reader. Do you not realize the kindness I’ve rendered you? If you can’t imagine letting go of everything you consider precious, you will have nothing. Especially not women. All in life is already yours, if only you’d realize it. You probably think I’m being cryptic, but I couldn’t be clearer.
It’s not too late to turn back. The first door is still open. If any of this isn’t jiving with you, Star Man, then hop on your UFO and gravitationally bend yourself the fuck out. Fall into a black hole for all I care. If you thought this was some New Age, hippy-dippy, high vibes nonsense, you were sorely mistaken. I deal only in the realm of reality, my friend.
But if you’re still here, look. The remains of your smashed fruit upon the ground. A seed.
Plant it.
Your attention provides the light it needs. Actions in accordance with the belief are the water it drinks. The ashes of your old tree provide fertile soil for the new. It will regrow into your new tree with time and care. And like all things, it will eventually die again too. Sometimes sooner, sometimes later. Sometimes it never becomes a tree at all. That’s life.
If you think all I’ve given you is a metaphor about a seed, you might have snacked on one too many lead paint chips as a child. I guess you’ll need me to spoon-feed you again, huh?
My painter’s chip cookie monster, I just revealed to you the second key.
Magic Trick
Let me ask you something, dear reader.
If you lost everything today, would you still be you?
If your answer is anything but yes, you still don’t understand who you really are.
Understand, I’m not asking if you’d be unphased by it. Loss hurts. That’s a fact. I’m no Stoic, and I don’t care much for Stoicism. If you need to cry like a bitch, be my guest. I would never judge you for it. (But don’t let the bitches see it. They’re ruthless.)
What I am saying is, if you confuse you with the things around you, you’re going to have a bad time. Not just with gaining swagger, but in living life. You’ll have no swagger, no bitches, and you’ll be miserable.
You must let go of everything. Anything you see is energetically dead, remember? To define yourself by your outer circumstances is to become one of the undead.
Now, hold up. Don’t you dare even open that soy hole of yours. I already know your complaints.
I’m not telling you to be an ascetic. If I look like one, it’s only because the powder burns lots of calories and these succubi keep me drained. I am a man in demand. They just can’t help themselves around me. They want to succ my bus.
Like the J-Man said so long ago, be in the world, not of it. Yeah, yeah, that’s not his exact quote, but it is the gist of it. Just shut the fuck up and roll with it, okay?
Letting go of everything is the ultimate goal for the man of swagger because it means you have what so few do—a rock solid foundation in the Eternal Self. But it’s also the hardest difficulty in this wacky game called life. It’s what we call David Must Die mode. (What an apt title.) You’re not ready for that yet. We’ll get you there.
Back to the point. The seed and the tree.
The seed is belief. The tree is the identity it grows into. This is because what you want—the fruits—comes from you.
You need to be the you who has the thing. Getting the thing and then becoming that version of you doesn’t fly, my guy.
Do you think I get girls, therefore I am David Jagger?
Puh-lease.
I am David Jagger, therefore, I get girls. Asian baddies, especially. I am him. I’ve got that direct connection to Him. He’s in my Favorites, tippity top of the list. We chat all the time. We’re cool like that.
Identity is not your Self. If it was, you wouldn’t be able to pin it down, now would you? It’s not even your mind. It’s simply a result of your beliefs and the actions that support them. In so much as you choose your beliefs and actions, you choose your identity. It is fluid.
What was it Bruce Lee said again?
“Be semen, my demon.”
Something like that.
Now, I want you to see how I’ve drawn this altogether, dear reader. I want you to appreciate my artistry.
Remember our first two lessons, the ones about attention? How we practiced watching thoughts and feelings come and go?
You were practicing letting go.
Open your hand. In it, you’re already holding the second key.
See how I did that? Magic trick, baby.
Psychic distance is necessary for getting chicks, achieving your desires, and communing with the Self. The latter is most important because the former two will come, without effort, by achieving it. Psychic distance reduces the seriousness of the situation. It becomes a game. You still want to win, but if you lose, it’s not the end of the world. You restart and try again, or find another game.
This is why we smashed your fruit. Chopped down your tree. Burned it.
There is nothing wrong with desiring or experiencing. The problem is when you cling to it. No one likes a clingy bitch.
When you stop clinging and achieve psychic distance, you’ll find that lady life chases you.
Love to Lose, Lose to Win
Life may be a game, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take the game seriously. As long as the element of play underlies it. It’s a deal, but not a big deal. You should play it like a true pro gamer. I play these Jezebels like a true pro player.
I don’t care if you’re a man of faith or a cognitively-constrained atheist. Life as we know it exists either because the Father, He Who is beyond our mortal reasoning, saw fit to create it for reasons beyond our understanding, or because nothing turned into a singular, fiery hot point that exploded into everything, even though nothing should beget nothing. The whole thing is a paradoxical joke.
You’ve got essentially two options with varying shades. Either you accept it’s all in God’s hands, or that there’s no point to anything at all. Both reduce the weight you carry, so your skinny boy arms can carry it. That doesn’t mean you don’t carry it, it’s just lighter. It’s okay, not everyone can carry the weight of the world like I do.
Accept that, whatever your endeavor, you may fail. And that’s okay. You may lose everyone and everything you ever love, but you will still have me. In your darkest hour, Davey’s here for you. Always here for you. I’m your valuable friend. You’re stuck with me till the end.
If failing causes you distress, you’re too focused on having things. I don’t hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re a necrophiliac. You’re into energetically dead things.
You should be focused on being the guy. Be the guy, and you will always have what is his, while it is his, while you are him. See your desire, orient yourself accordingly, go through the motions for the sake of going through the motions, and let go of the outcome.
Love to lose and lose to win. As with chicks, once you stop caring so much, suddenly they get interested. Those who know know, but if you’re reading this you probably don’t. Not yet. But you will. If you do your homework, that is.
The sooner you start this, the better.
Take your one desire and make that your sole target. Nothing is too absurd. Okay, I take that back. It’s absurd to think you could ever be as great as me, but hey, shoot for the stars.
Now, walk a little closer to that target. No, no, even closer. Close enough that you can hit it, goat throater. You’re Bob Lee, but you don’t have the Swagger yet. You’re not getting that 2,200-yard shot. You can walk it back incrementally as your aim improves.
Fuck timelines. Days, weeks, months, years. It all feels the same when you’re tripping through the Akashic Records.
You know what? Forget I said that. Let’s just say you put too much pressure on yourself when you create deadlines. You take it too seriously despite it being arbitrary. Deadlines are for corpo cucks. No reader of mine is a corpo cuck, and if you are, we’re going to burn that tree and plant a new one.
Start acting as you believe the guy in your desired end goal would.
Start today. At all times. While you are shooting at the target, while you are slaving away for the Black Cube, while you are anally-vomiting that 4:00 AM Taco Bell you know you shouldn’t have eaten.
It will feel weird at first, but become more natural with time as swagger expels the cuckoldry from your being. Make good use of your attention. These keys aren’t one-use items. They stay in your inventory for the rest of the game. You can switch them off, but you’re shooting yourself in the dick.
In all of this, accept that failure is always within the realm of possibility, but carry on as if it wasn’t. Bravery isn’t approaching the girl absent of rejection. It’s approaching the girl despite knowing she may very well be disgusted by your hideous visage, pepper spray you, blow her rape whistle, and kick you in the cock for saying hello. (This is a you problem, not me.)
Trust the swagger. When it’s pumping your loins, you’ll know. You’ll know, too, when the cuck energy is castrating you. Use your lamp (attention) to stack the shiny things (evidence) you need to convince the autistic djinn the wish was worth his effort. Eventually, he will see things your way.
Now, go.
Reading will only get you far, cocksplat. Time to test the theory.
Return next week with the results of your experiment.
Wǒ ài nǐ.