How do you determine someone’s choice?

The obvious answer is to ask them. However, this implies that they know what they are being asked. Ask an atheist whether he wants God, and he’ll say “hell no”. On the other hand, ask that same person what they want and they’ll start to talk about happiness, love, fulfilment, knowledge and so on, basically lesser manifestations of God. Basically, such a person suffers from avidya, which is a very useful term from Vedanta, which poorly translates as “ignorance”, or “lack of knowledge”. In fact, a better translation would be “anti-knowledge”, things you think you know and you hold on to them as if they are important and you would be diminished by their absence, and they are merely nonsense that would have to be removed in order to make place for real knowledge. Basically, there’s too much shit occupying space in your head for reality to compete. So, how do you know what a person suffering from avidya actually wants and chooses?

Ask a woman what kind of a man she wants and she will start about all kinds of nonsense – he needs to be tall, good looking, fit, wealthy and powerful and so on. Then you make an online dating service that allows women to choose men that fit that profile, and they will all compete for the same 1% of arrogant whoremongers who will fuck and dump them, after which those women will complain that there are no good men left and all men are trash. No; you just created a superficial criterion that selects for good looking trash.

The problem those women have is that they are checking their instincts and they seemingly tell them what will trigger the feeling of safety and fulfilment. The problem is, they don’t know themselves and their true nature enough to predict. For instance, they can’t predict what will happen when they sit at a table across a person who is of average height, casually dressed, doesn’t have much money, but her soul clicks to him because he’s her actual partner. What she thought would be triggered by a tall, muscular guy driving a Lamborghini is literally nothing compared to what would happen when she meets her matching Lego brick. Also, when she would imagine a romantic evening with her partner, she would imagine nonsense such as a dinner in a fancy restaurant, or a bubble bath with candles and roses, and if she had all of that with a wrong person she would feel the wrongness, as if she were a caged animal. With the right person, she’d be doing absolutely anything, and she would have the feeling she expected from a romantic bubble bath with candles and hundreds of roses. The thing is, people have stupid, superficial, materialistic ideas about how happiness is caused; they think it comes when all the physical stuff is set up just the right way, as if the matter will cause them to be happy. In fact, that’s the exact opposite of how things actually work, which is why people predictably fail in their search for happiness. No, happiness doesn’t happen when you meet a tall, muscular, rich guy who buys you flowers and takes you out for dinner. It’s the opposite – when you meet the right person, you are so happy you don’t even perceive the physical matter, it can be whatever and it doesn’t matter in the slighest.

Biljana recently asked me how I felt about the new lens that I bought, the FE 135mm f/1.8 GM. I told her that I start caring about lenses once I make great images with them, the ones that make me feel great about the equipment that allowed me to take them. Until then, a lens is merely glass, plastic and metal, a piece of gear that means nothing to me regardless of how expensive and optically perfect it might be. Then I take a few nice pictures and start feeling good about the lens, or I take great pictures with it and have a feeling that it set me free and allowed me to create exactly what I meant to, and I start really loving it. I used to have lenses that were absolutely inferior to my modern gear, but I loved them because they allowed me to take pictures that were exactly what I wanted to create. On the other hand, the modern GM lenses are absolute optical jewels, but I hardly even started using them. I did create some nice pictures with them, but nowhere near what I made with Minolta MC 50mm f/1.4, MD 35-70mm f/3.5, or Canon EF 35-70mm f/3.5-4.5.

Emotional and spiritual significance has nothing to do with nominal material metrics, it’s like comparing the person you love to a better looking person you don’t care for. The better looking person is just a nice looking piece of furniture to you, a bag of meat with no significance. Sure, if you ask someone what they want, those objective material metrics will for the most part be what they are talking about, or they will talk about intangibles without knowing what they are talking about or how realistic those expectations are.

So, how does God know what you actually want, when you yourself can’t tell? Well, first of all you need to have options to choose from. If you choose God and heaven because they are all you know, is it a real, informed choice? If you choose hell because it’s all you know, is it an informed choice? If you choose men or women based on how certain physical attributes trigger your sexual instincts, are you making an informed choice, or are you merely manifesting ignorance of what you actually need? You can look at pictures of women all day and pick parts from each that look best thinking you could merge them all into one person and get the ideal woman, or as a woman you can look at pictures of men and think how tall and muscular your ideal man should be, but in reality, what will actually make you click is a soul connection, and you can’t get that by putting all the superficial stuff into one person and magically expect to get something ideal.

Also, people who have no knowledge of God will talk about how God needs to be this or that – omnipotent, omniscient, the only one etc., and they never understand and expect the most important thing that makes everything else irrelevant – how God makes you feel. They expect to see something great or magnificent, but they don’t expect their sense of self and reality to change in his presence. They don’t expect that God makes you realize your true self when you’re in his presence, they don’t expect to not care at all whether he’s omniscient and omnipotent once they see him, because the what happens to them is something they never expected, something they never knew to expect, and something completely different from anything they would describe beforehand. You expect to be awed from the outside, and instead the cage for your soul shatters, and you are no longer small, limited, afraid, ignorant and alone. The presence of God isn’t about how you perceive God, it’s what presence of God does to your sense of self. It’s like living your life like a black and white photo and then not only growing colours, but photo shatters completely and you are the reality of the captured moment, not only visual but emotional, perceptual, everything.

How do you know whether you want that beforehand? You couldn’t know enough to say anything meaningful about it. However, once you have such an experience, how do you know whether you chose it? Let’s say you can’t just repeat it at will. But you can choose it by choosing to make it precious to you, by choosing to make other people feel like that, making them feel that the chains around their soul shattered, that they are no longer in a small dark room but in a wide, endless space within. You can choose to give light, love, happiness and knowledge to others. That’s how you choose God – by being to others what God’s presence is to you. You don’t become happy by wanting to be happy and collecting all the things you associate with happiness. You become happy by removing limitations from others the way God would remove limitations from you, were you in his holy presence. You truly choose things by doing them to others.

I would continue the last article with several stories, of the kind that never happened and yet keeps happening daily.

Story one. “Friends” hanging out, slightly drunk, telling embarrassing stories about each other in front of third parties. “Remember how he was simping over that slut like a damn idiot, it was terrible, he was buying her flowers and writing her love letters like a total beta NPC. She was stringing him along for months while sucking off Chad and Tyrone, and we all knew it but we didn’t tell him because it was funny to see him make a fool of himself in front of everybody”.

Story two. Heroic warriors hanging out, slightly drunk, telling stories about each other’s adventures. “Remember how we barged into a jungle where a gang of armed robbers were camping, while we were just hanging out aimlessly. They jumped us, and he just instantly snapped into warrior mode, took out his weapon and started weeding them out like they’re nothing, and they were seriously hardened bastards and murderers. It was so awesome to look at, I’m getting chills now remembering how much he kicked their ass.” “He’s not telling it right”, the other hero answered. “It’s true that I came at them hard as they jumped us, but I had tunnel vision and didn’t survey the environment properly, and missed three bastards hiding in the foliage, and he saw them aiming at me behind my back and took their heads off before I figured out what’s going on. I owe him big time, he was so much tactically smarter than me that day, that it wouldn’t have been a victory if not for him. I’d have kicked ass until I got killed, but thanks to my buddy, it all looked easy instead of it being my funeral”.

Story three. “Guys, I have to tell you something embarrassing about Joe.” (everybody giggles, Joe thinks “here goes…”). “When we were camped out near Kandahar, the dumbass commander had the camp placed in the valley between two hills and stationed guards at the entrances of the cauldron. Of course, the Taliban crawled down the hills quietly during the night, ended up right in the middle of our encampment and started shooting at the tents and throwing hand grenades. We were all running around like headless chickens trying to figure out what the fuck is going on, and Joe was in his underwear, balls hanging out, grabbing a heavy machine gun and starting to spray the motherfuckers with heavy metal. He got five of them good, to the point where the rest started losing their shit and the rest of us sleepy bastards managed to wake up enough to join him in kicking their ass. He looked like a fucking god of war or something, nuts out, peppering the hostiles with vengeance; I wouldn’t be too surprised if he zapped them with lightning from his eyes or some shit, that’s how awesome he was. He saved our butts, and the idiot commander later reprimanded him for facing the enemy in improper uniform. Can you believe this shit?”

Story four. Women hanging out and complaining about their husbands, trying to make themselves important by criticising and belittling them. The last one feels uncomfortable by the whole atmosphere where women try to impress others with how cool they are and how stupid, weak and boring their husbands are. Eventually, she decides to speak: “I am very sorry that all of you seem to feel the need to belittle your marriages and yourselves in this manner, and I wish to have no part in this. My husband is smart, focused, good and I keep thanking God every day for letting me find him. Everything is so much better when he’s around and if I had to complain about something, it would be that people outside the family don’t know enough of what a wonderful person he is”. Then the rest of them start making faces and snorting with contempt, and she takes a good look at them, excuses herself and leaves, making a mental note to avoid bad company in the future. She comes home, the husband asks how it went, and she shivers and says “may dear God save me from ‘friends’”. She tells the husband the details and he makes her popcorn and cocoa before bed, while the crazy harpies proceed to plan how to cheat on their husbands and destroy their families.

So, you see, there are multiple ways of hanging out with friends over a beer and sharing stories. There’s a whole art of narrating something in a funny way so that you extol someone’s virtue, or pretend to make slight fun of them while in fact praising them for being awesome, elevating them in front of others. Or, you can tear someone down and create resentment, discord, pain and humiliation, while pretending it’s humour. Also, it takes some virtue to see that something is developing in a nasty direction and either counter the bad narrative or just remove yourself from the situation completely. Basically, weak people seldom have the courage to counter a popular but evil narrative from their “friends”, and to rather leave the company altogether than to continue participating in it and destroy their lives.

I’ve been thinking how in the mid- to late-1990s there was that prevalent assumption in the “spiritual circles” that we are in the middle of some major global awakening, rise of global energy, mass Kundalini awakenings, spiritual insights and awakenings and so on. Here in Croatia, you couldn’t find a bus stop that didn’t have ads for Reiki-something, something-meditation or some guru or another. Even on the TV, there were esotheric/spiritual/something “shows”, popularising things from spiritual healing and health food to various gurus and spiritual schools.

Then, in the early 2000s, it all went “poof”.

My working hypothesis is that the popularisation of the social networks and smartphones completely shifted the interest from some kind of transcendence, however limited and flawed, to human interaction online, which essentially consumed everybody’s focus and energy. However, that’s not all. I also think there’s a lesson there about the illusion of choice.

You see, someone who was there in the 1990s would be inclined to believe that gurus, spiritual techniques and schools and transcendental realities in general were something common, if not ubiquitous. Enlightened gurus are dime a dozen, advertising themselves and competing for your attention, and you’re obviously so important if they all want you. You have a choice. Even if you chose something, a better thing might be around the corner and just waiting for you to get aware enough to notice.

It was all a circus, for the most part. Guys in Swami clothes and/or with weird names were mostly spiritual beginners with one or two samadhi experiences, all copying each other’s homework which is why they all sounded the same and there was this illusion that spirituality is a standardised thing, all rivers flowing to the same ocean and stuff. My students at that time mostly felt like I’m something normal and common, and if they don’t like my approach, a better guru is around the corner. Even I, myself, did not appreciate the uniqueness of my position.

In hindsight, there was no abundance of gurus and spiritual teachings, merely Hindu copy-pasta and lots of wannabes. The abundance of choice was like the abundance of make money fast and penis enlargement schemes on the Internet – all fake. If anyone knew what they were doing (and there were some), they had no following; those who had a following were all worse than useless. There was no global energy awakening, no ascension into higher realms, no “New Age”, all “channellings” were fake. “Kundalini awakenings” were almost all symptoms of mental disorders. The abundance of choice was just an illusion. It was just me and probably a handful of other, equally unknown people, our voices drowned by the cacophony of charlatans.

For people who had an actual opportunity to achieve something, this illusion of abundant choice was incredibly harmful, because most of them stagnated, missed their chance and will eventually have to do things the hard way. I think their situation was comparable to that of pretty girls on dating sites, where everybody seems to swipe right on them, but since they think wrong, they match with tall, muscular, rich guys who just fuck them all in a circle, while they live in an illusion that thousands of matches mean abundance of choice. Size of the haystack says nothing about the number of needles within. It just turns them into free hookers who soon rack up body counts appropriate for sex workers. Thinking you have abundance of choice is how your life gets wasted and at one point you wake up and realise that, other than the fact that half a kilometre of cock went through you, you also arrogantly rejected all the options that would actually work for you and make you happy. Now those good guys are married, your soul is crushed by all those side-fuck experiences, your youth is gone, and there seems to be nothing good to hope for.

The ego high created by the apparent choice is deadly. You think you’re on top of the world while you crush the best things in your life underfoot, and when the ride ends, it’s all gone. The choice that never was, the actual choices you arrogantly rejected, the time that passed riding the wave of illusion, and then you’re left with bad karma, ruins of a life you never started living, inflated ego and bitterness of being used.