5 Reasons to Facilitate the Curbing of Giving a Fuck

(The is the unedited essay as it should have appeared on dumblittleman.com)

Pretentious title, but far from a call to adopt a stance of apathy within this wondrous and dynamic reality we exist together in.

Fuck no, quite the opposite.

The insight I’d like to share with you today is the equivalent of an open-handed, movie-cliche slap to the face, regretfully but lovingly administered to pull a panicked comrade back from the brink of a full-blown meltdown catalyzed by a collapse of rational, critical thinking.

This short read is nothing special — basically a reminder of the shit you’ve always known, but for some reason decided to stuff far too deep into your travel pack, making access an annoyance whenever the velcro flap of necessity is cracked. And of course the bug sprays and painkillers at the top of the pile provide less incentive to dump the bag to re-evaluate priorities of survival.

My motivation this day is to encourage within you a willingness to consider the game you’re immersed in from a different hilltop, one with a joy-horizon not obscured by the clouds of stress or grief.

Brevity is always the best way to get a message across, so let’s sink our teeth into the meat of this feast, and skip the greens for a time when protocol dictates we munch on smaller fare to prolong social interaction — those rituals where we regret not staying home to jerk off instead of spending an afternoon wishing Cousin Patty kudos for having her fucking braces removed.

Enough ramble, let’s dive in. We’ll subtitle the piece “Practical considerations to stop taking our lives so seriously…”

Reason the First: You’re Gonna Fucking Die!

This is definitely the most obvious and important point I need to share, so if your attention wanders to YouTube videos of dogs wearing hats before you read this essay’s completion, at least commit yourself to finishing this first segment’s diatribe, and you’ll still walk away with a much needed reminder to stop giving such a serious fuck to whatever drama encompasses your life.

I can’t speak for Jesus. I can’t speak for yogis, mystics, or other tight-lipped people about prolonging a physical body eternally, but I can suggest to you there’s a high degree of probability the animal vessel you occupy will slowly break down, become enfeebled, and endure a six-foot covering of dirt, or an unceremonious barbecue behind closed doors, severing your tangible connection to this physical world.

So let’s look at death from both sides of the coin.

If you believe in a mechanistic, uncaring, fluke of a Universe, that big-banged you from dumb luck and random chance, every second of your existence here should be valued as the only shot you’ll ever have to experience happiness or contentment. So why would you spend one fucking second engaged in the grief and stress of doing shit you don’t want to, with the belief that death leads to eternal void? Why would you fill your days ingesting toxic food, tainted water, and the ridiculous ideas corporate entities endlessly serve to keep you in perpetual fear of living out your most heart-felt desires?

If you believe in continuity of spirit, eternal life, or any form of reality after the Earth-plane, the same basic questions apply — why would you spend a single second in fear of tackling head on each and every beckoning to revel in the experience of a unique, fleeting world? What could an eternal spirit possible have to worry about, aside from the suggestions of hellish torment religious dogma loves to fill our brains with? Fuck the fear, the time to jump into the deep end is now.

Whatever your beliefs, the most important thing you need to realize is the only time you’ll ever have at your disposal is this very moment, right here, right now. If your job is shit, quit it. If your woman sucks the life from you, ditch her. If you tap the snooze alarm ritually because 10 more minutes of unconsciousness would be preferable to engaging the tasks on your day’s to-do list, time to consider making fundamental changes to the way you navigate your reality.

Stress and misery are not requisites to Earth-existence. They are adopted behaviours that can be disregarded by climbing a new vista — one with a less smog-filled view, fewer vendors of worthless shit, and no connectivity to mind-numbing media.

You can start climbing any moment you choose.

Reason the Second: Your Telepathic Skills are Most Likely Shit

I’ve met some bonafide empaths and psychics over the years, but, for the most part, humans are unable to step into the minds of their fellow creatures and accurately read the thoughts/emotions/intentions of the entity standing 2-feet from their face.

When we inject our personal spin on the motives of another, our egoic speculations are almost always cause for grief. Judgement and faulty perception lead to obsessive and tormenting conjecture, such as…

“That bitch must hate me. Why else would she have said that? Look at her hair. What the fuck was she thinking? I wonder if my ass looks fat in these jeans. Oh shit, I forgot to check my Facebook updates, I’m sure someone liked my recent post by now. I’m gonna order nachos, I think they’re gluten free. Oh yeah, forgot about that nasty bitch. I bet she hasn’t gotten laid in a decade…”

And on and on…

The point here is simple and quick:

Stop giving a fuck about judging other people’s journeys when you’ve never sampled their footwear, and stop giving a fuck about what people might think of you.

Entire lives from cradle to grave have been based upon concern for a complete stranger’s possible thought forms that might conceive a less than worthy acceptance into the herd.

You wanna impress someone? Impress yourself, and forget the tortuous speculations of how fellow explorers might perceive you.

Adopt an empathetic approach to life, applying it both to yourself and others. Keep in mind that your travel comrades have been just as duped as you to believe iPhones and designer clothing have any bearing on self-worth. The contributions necessary to healing this broken world will never come with a “Made in China” stamp.

Reason the Third: You’ve Been Lied To

I’m doing my best to keep these points as concise and simplified as possible, but there would be nothing more fulfilling to me right now than to break into a 97-part series about all the bullshit we’ve accepted over the years as “truth.”

From politics to health to relationships to government to history to the very nature of the cosmos, everything our protectors have weaned us upon is fucking shit — manipulated, twisted, and skewed so far from authenticity that “facts” are more accurately perceived by assuming the exact opposite of whatever vomit the media spews out.

Ironically, I can probably sum up this segment faster than any of the others with a simple statement. It comes not from a paranoid, untrusting asshole who rebels for the sake of rebelling, but from one who has experienced the buffet of media and culture first hand, once as a naive diner, and now as an evolving, open-minded connoisseur of forgotten delicacies…

“Do not accept the sustenance proffered without sampling the fare. It makes no sense to fill your belly with fodder that causes indigestion, bloating, or queasiness just because it’s familiar, convenient, or steadily dined upon by the rest of the tribe. If the menu is unpalatable, learn to cook for yourself.”

Reason the Fourth: Other Realities Exist

It tough to broach this topic in the mainstream without coming across as a foil-hatted nut-job, but I have a sneaking suspicion within a decade or two, this next topic might just become the motivation for humans to rediscover the adventurous, limitless nature that lies at the core of our essence.

The subject here is lucid dreaming. I will forego elaboration for the sake of a concise post, but would urge you to do a bit of research into this fascinating practice while waiting for the next season of American Idol to start. Let me share with you the key insight I’ve learned from conscious awareness while in the “dream” world…

Earth is not the only game in town. No matter how much the gods of science and media love to dismiss the things they can’t measure, and shout out to the Associated Press and Reuters that the most effective means to achieve peace of mind is to respect war-mongering governments and establish respectful careers to procure wife, house, family, and dog, there’s far more happening under our very noses than the Facebook updates and Netflix subscriptions we’ve come to accept as comforting norm.

There are other realities beyond the JunkieSphere we inhabit. I’ve visited, I’ve played ball. If a man of science wants to tell me there’s nothing more to my astral experiences than a delusion of synapses firing in my brain, I could easily make the argument Earthland conforms to the exact same parameters.

They’re equally both real, or both fake. No further elaboration needed… if you want to explore beyond your shitty job at the office, and renew your zest for life, I’ll give you a dozen links to start your journey of lucid dream exploration. Or just call me, I love shooting the shit with weirdos. Track me down through the bio.

Reason the Fifth: Egos Are Bullshit

Perhaps another obvious one, but worthy of a last loving slap to the face.

You can shift your ideals and views of the world you live in with a single thought. Your ego is a fiction you’ve created to provide a frame of reference to experience the world, but it doesn’t have to control you anymore than Instagram does.

An ego is capricious. Fickle, fluctuating, and endlessly malleable. The wider you open your doors of perception, the less controlled you’ll be by it. The less you define it, the grander your nature will become. The less often you feed it the spiritual Cheetos it joneses for, the wider the panorama of clarity will stretch, facilitating an ever deepening understanding of cause and effect.

Maybe your wife isn’t a whore, she’s just insecure about rejection because her daddy focused on his bowling league at a time when she needed his attention the most.

Maybe the person you hate at work isn’t a cunt, bitch, or vindictive monster because she never gives you the days off you request, maybe she’s just feeling impotent to change her own world, unconsciously projecting her short-comings on the people around her.

Maybe life here on Earth isn’t the stress-filled, grab-as-many-prizes-before-the-circus-ends kind of carnival we’ve been led to believe it was, maybe it’s a unique opportunity to discover the very nature of who we are, what we are, and why we’ve chosen to pay the extra five bucks to enter the freak-show tent.

I’m not an expert on evolution, creationism, or pretty much anything else for that matter. I can’t say for certain why humans wander this planet, but I’ve committed my days to digging as deeply as possible into the existential questions that on some level haunt us all, embracing the topics that have more substance than fretting over the best way to shave one’s balls.

Perhaps candy-floss isn’t the healthiest thing to walk away with as the carnies shut down the midway for the night, but I’m in no position to judge what might satisfy the longings of a wayward soul. We’re all doing our best to understand the endless stream of data thrown at us, and the only way to do so is to experience the roller-coaster with arms up in the air as it peaks each crest, open and willing to ride out whatever dips, twists, and turns lay ahead. Sometimes the attraction sucks, and other times we feel compelled to buy another ticket. Either way, it’s up to us to choose when and where we ride.

Life is an amusement park that should be enjoyed, not wandered through in fear of every megaphone-announced call to action. The snake-oil tonics and rigged bottle-toss games will always be part of the show, but we can pass them by just as easily as convincing ourselves happiness couldn’t possible exist without partaking in whatever the rest of the crowd is doing.

When you pass a long line of humans standing patiently, waiting to give the flavour-of-the-month a lick, don’t feel compelled to take a position amongst the group. There’s a good chance the raspberry/crack cocaine swirl wasn’t engineered with your best interests at heart. Sample if you must, but also consider walking past the bright and colourful kiosk, knowing another quick-fix likely won’t satisfy the longing in your belly for spiritual satisfaction.

Eventually we’ll get to where we want to go, but only after donning our hiking shoes and accepting the eventuality our feet will get muddied.

And that’s why so few people stand on Mt. Happiness. If the path leading to it was already well-worn, equipped with safety lines and neon signs, we’d all be up there.

You’ll likely need a machete to find the hill you seek. Snakes and spiders will definitely await the trek, but once you’ve filled your soul with the stunning view after an exhaustive final push to peak its summit, the pitiful knolls you’ve been continuously encouraged to frequent will never satisfy again.

The really fun shit is still out there. The adventure only awaits your willingness to embrace it with fascination and wonder, knowing limitation is merely a concept defined by Fox News and the fiction writers of science who profess their wisdom as absolute.

Grab your hat and walking stick, and find out for yourself.

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