u/Philoforte

Happiness according to method is a contradiction. It is spontaneous and cannot be forced. The best we can do is address the internal sources of unhappiness: greed, selfishness, and elitism.

Greed frustrated is unhappiness. Greed satiated is happiness, but unsustainable and unwholesome. Selfishness is a hardened lack of empathy, as well as an unwholesome happiness over hoarded acquisitions. Elitism is an unwholesome happiness in pride that precedes a fall.

Happiness is not an unqualified virtue. Schadenfreude, for example, is the taking of glee at the misfortune of others. We laugh at them, not with them. Happiness is not unequivocally wholesome, and unwholesome happiness contributes to a deep seated malaise because the little that is gained is transcient and injurious to our integrity.

If we jeer others, what's stopping us jeering ourselves. The golden rule is inverted: you do unto yourself what you do unto others. And this applies in particular to happiness derived from elitism and selfishness since they involve the severance of others from ourselves.

True happiness is restful. I heard about Matthieu Ricard, a French-born Tibetan Buddhist monk living in Nepal, declared to be the happiest person alive when tests were conducted of him doing lovingkindness meditation. (I am aware that such happiness must, in part, derive from method, but a monk also addresses matters of greed, selfishness, and elitism.)

His happiness is not derived from outward conditions, but from a will for togetherness or ubuntu, an embrace encapsulated in the affirmation, "May all beings be happy and free from suffering." All beings include him, and his happiness is wholesome, sustainable, and restful.

Animated exuberance has a place, but real happiness is closer to the baseline and grounded on an easiness that does not depend on external volatility. It may flux and wane, but there is a comfortable and easy baseline that shifts into a slightly elevated state of restful well-being. It is quieter.

Addressing sources of unhappiness may lead to a happiness of just being, the joy of every breath, and simple things are always enough. Happiness does not hinge on the material or the glorious. It is the wholesome sort that is actively empathetic to the needs of others and entrenched in the present moment, a quiet breath, a drawn-out sigh ... no need to be anything, no need to go anywhere or acquire anything, just being present to oneself.

Just Quietude.

Endnote:

For an exposition on Quietude:

https://www.reddit.com/r/youniversal/s/c2AgO6d0au

Enlightenment would be something of small consequence to a truly enlightened person. If he held onto the view that he was enlightened, he could hardly be enlightened because he would be immersed in self definition.

Upon enlightenment, the Buddha wondered whether it was worth telling anyone (he also wondered that what he had to convey may be too subtle to grasp). This is the most important part of the story, because whatever he achieved was not such a big deal, a matter of small consequence. There was no impulsion to declare it from rooftops. Of course, the choice to play the guru was the choice the Buddha made out of compassion for all beings. But for this consideration, he would not have bothered to even mention it to anyone.

An enlightened being would think nothing of his achievement. If he did, it would be an egoistic fantasy. According to adage, "Before enlightenment, chopping wood, carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood, carrying water." It is something that passes without mention, noted and dismissed. This is the only way it can be real.

We don't seek to attain enlightenment, we seek to arrive where we can be done with the matter altogether, a reduction to inconsequence. This is the paradox.

Would we ascend to the peak of Mount Everest and neither take a photo nor make a record in our journal? But if we do neither and if we go so far as to tell no one, we have still ascended Mount Everest. This is the paradoxical context. Mount Everest is the tallest point above sea level, at about 29 thousand feet.

As the little noises drift by, the Buddha passes into silence, with the ineffable sense that he has nothing to say, much less to himself about himself.

This point is worth making because of the number of people on Reddit claiming to be enlightened.

No one knows you better than you, so the person in the best position to know how you can advance as a person is you. And the way to get to know yourself better is by exercising self honesty and humility.

Humans are adept at lying to themselves, applying selective blindness to unsavoury traits they may see in themselves. The problem here is that those unsavoury traits cannot be addressed when they are made invisible. Creating deliberate blindspots also leads to reduced awareness; people become less conscious, their mental acuity dulled.

The power of self honesty and humility is to be able to see the unembellished truth about ourselves. This empowers us to address hang ups and obsessive attachments before they can further interfere with our ability to express ourselves in wholesome ways.

What we admit to ourselves, in the exercise of self honesty and humility, can be kept to ourselves. We need not tell anyone unless we want to seek their assistance. The point is the opening of our eyes to complete clarity, and that is enough.

According to legend, only the pure knight wins the Grail because only the pure knight can see it. He sees with clarity because nothing is hidden from his vision. Empowered by self honesty and humility, insight is never lost to him, enabling himself to address matters of greed, selfishness, and elitism that are invisible to others. By these means, he is pure, and by this means, the Grail is fully visible to him.

Why wouldn't we want to be able to see everything, clear vision of unembellished truth? We display courage to see things as they are, and acting on such insights brings growth, beneficial change, increased intelligence, and lucid awakeness.

In the searing illumination of enlightened vision, no gremlin can reside in our minds. Neither speck nor log remains lodged in our eye.

Investigate with interest the truth of how we are at this moment. All that exists is this moment and the next available choice. Why not make that choice a good one by discovering exactly how we are with the soft touch of gentleness that amounts to self kindness?

"Know thyself."

-Socrates

"Be gentle with yourself."

- Ajahn Brahm

Good friends don't judge themselves or each other for anything.

A young lady I met years ago taught me this. No matter how socially awkward I could be, I knew she would judge me for nothing. I could be so relaxed and at ease in her presence; it was as if we were indistinct from each other. No trace of self-consciousness existed in fluent conversation. And no amount of conversation was necessary. We could just be present to each other, and that was enough.

This is the level at which magic exists. It is not about achieving levitation, invisibility, or real-world outcomes by performing rituals. It is simply an unconditional union between people where separateness ceases to exist.

The feeling two such people get is one of paired synchronicity, whereby each can anticipate the other and even mimic their physical mannerisms exactly. When together, each feels immediately aligned to present moment experience, as if the very space is sacred.

Such relationships are magical in the sense of bordering on the supernatural. I dare not use the term psychic resonance because the word "psychic" nowadays also means charlatan, but that is as good a term as any.

It is shared unconscious presence beyond what we understand as love or agape because it escapes such labels and notions.

A glorious romantic love often subsides to a mundane transaction. It is not like that.

It is magic.

Endnote:

The matter is addressed with some depth here:

[Union Beyond Limitation]

https://www.reddit.com/r/LovethroughContrast/s/Wpr28QWbLq

Nothing is more absurd than constantly rating oneself.

Self esteem is liking yourself no matter what, beyond conditions, beyond personal stories, beyond societal strictures about how you should be that sets a bar for you to jump over. Lower the bar and you can make the jump, but the hurdle remains. So, remove the bar. Escape social pressures to conform to type.

If you set out to like yourself no matter what, you are beyond rating systems and a positive, healthy self image follows automatically, and your personal story unfolds without needy comparison.

Realise that everyone is equally deserving and everyone includes you. Self esteem is about recognising the truth rather than inflating yourself. It is the recognition that you are deserving regardless of anything. You are deserving regardless of social or economic expectations. You are deserving just as you are, however you are.

The idea that you are constantly being rated and the universe is keeping score is false. Your value is not diminished by outward circumstances, and no one can diminish you without your consent. If another person judges you and appends a score, there is no need to give them any credit. No one is in any position to tell you how you should be assigned a value.

You are valued simply because you decide that is the case. No outward references are required. You are the author of your own value.

Sit at the table

No elbows in sight

Folded napkin on right

Etiquette enigma

Any leeway a blight

Rise for the lady

Sit when she's ready

Open pleasantries with compliment

Rulebook of Chivalry

Her hair an ornament

Her attire a monument

Exactitude so precisely

Enobled white knight

Cutlery held properly

Food portioned to bite

Never speak while dining

Thence so my plight

No action needs refining

When addressing a query

Unwavering eye contact

Surgical chemistry

Discourse with elocution

Posture majesty

Phonemic articulation

Factory packed élan

Execution all book

Nonchalant Ellen

Disinterested of look

I can't keep going

I'm feeling crook

Hands shaking on glass

Spill on collar

Wasabi too hot

Releasing a holler

Swear box for dollar

Ellen is laughing

I'm gulping from pitcher

Comic timing?

Rulebook ripped asunder

A torture too confining

Loss of pedigree

Sighing with tears

She loves buffoonery

She's singing with cheers

As I dribble my wine

While fumbling cutlery

Gobbling celery

I'm doing merrily

Stardust drift

Across raiment of Nuit

Her Nightingale shift

Ebony body with speckles

Spread across sky

Starlit pointed freckles

Arms begging why

Prayers merge with heckles

Earth scattered with steel nettles

Tractor wheels, armoury show

Dust never settles

Over General Issue Joe

Lying face upwards

Vital essence in free flow

War land metric

Submachine tragic

Eyes pondering Nuit's garment

Lost to her hypnotic

Infinite firmament

Filmy gaze, wide and limpid

Countdown for medic

Too long, too long!

Egyptian magic

Her syllabic song

Enlivening pulmonary beat

Containing vital essence

Preserving his heat

Gracing him from above

Doom clock lag

Black Cuckcoo Dove

Kissing his tag

Spilt tears a salve

Vision blacken

Final second

Amber lamp flash

Médecins Sans Frontières

Wound suture, tourniquet sash

Infusion and air

Extreme unction dash

Saved by a hair

Obsidian Goddess

Divine affair

Blackout

My modem is dead

Phone battery now flat

Sound vacuum

Background noises have fled

Blackness outside window

No stars overhead

Nothingness outside door

Surrounded by void instead

My house a solitary domain

Adrift in emptiness

No lifeline to complain

No food in the fridge

Plate unwashed in sink

No water on tap

Only droplets to drink

Clockface frozen digits

Watchface gone blink

Cold evaporative spirits

Awash in my marrow

Begging for meaning

Euphoria or sorrow?

Nihilistic dreaming

Pray for tomorrow

In silence so loud

I'm all alone

Hermit done proud

Blue haze zone

Everywhere is nowhere

Substance of fright

If I'd taken my medication

I'd be alright

Reconnect with what's real

Don't be a heel

Gobble down meds

With leftover Sprite

Return of colour

Here comes the light

Sky burst of blue

In the distance

A kite

Stardust drift

Across raiment of Nuit

Her Nightingale shift

Ebony body with speckles

Spread across sky

Starlit pointed freckles

Arms begging why

Prayers merge with heckles

Earth scattered with steel nettles

Tractor wheels, armoury show

Dust never settles

Over General Issue Joe

Lying face upwards

Vital essence in free flow

War land metric

Submachine tragic

Eyes pondering Nuit's garment

Lost to her hypnotic

Infinite firmament

Filmy gaze, wide and limpid

Countdown for medic

Too long, too long!

Egyptian magic

Her syllabic song

Enlivening pulmonary beat

Containing vital essence

Preserving his heat

Gracing him from above

Doom clock lag

Black Cuckcoo Dove

Kissing his tag

Spilt tears a salve

Vision blacken

Final second

Amber lamp flash

Médecins Sans Frontières

Wound suture, tourniquet sash

Infusion and air

Extreme unction dash

Saved by a hair

Obsidian Goddess

Divine affair

Halt, my darling

Don't despair

I'm baking up a storm

Medium rare

Our guests will be tardy

But we'll be on time

Goulash is ready

Honey dipped radish is fine

Better than staple

Uncorked, finest wine

Cheese in meltdown

Adding the thyme

Crackle is peeling

Ready to dine

Ding dong

The guests trumpet in

Gabbling about anything

Politics and swing

Unable to follow

Topical thing

Mute as a mouse

While they blast the house

Marginalised servant

Barely a louse

Glad it's all over

Final bellow was long

I'd cater for your colleagues

Without joining the song

I'm not part of the crowd

For which you belong

I'd suffer High Society

My love is that strong

Dear Sir Valiant,

You accused me of backhanded speech to which I announced I was Arthur, your liege, a flippant remark not addressing your fears.

I have read that the opposite of love is fear, and that I should have addressed your fears as a cry for help (yes, I have read Love is Letting Go of Fear by Gerald Jampolsky). That I did not was cuttingly dismissive, and you are entitled to un-friend me and block my chat.

I know this does not read as an apology and it's not, because right now, that would be ineffectual. I cannot even offer counsel since I am bereft of credibility in your eyes.

I only write this to be seen and to examine the matter of meaningful coincidences. I wrote a piece called "Sir Tremaine and the War of Thorns" about a knight, Sir Tremaine, consumed with fear, but who insisted upon embarking on an impossible mission because he saw himself as craven.

https://www.reddit.com/r/LibraryofBabel/s/Ofw8VIlWvn

Sir Valiant is a character in the piece who did not understand why Arthur would send a knight like Tremaine so consumed with terror. Arthur had to explain that only the knight who was most afraid could overcome the dark wizard, Lufarian, thus only Sir Tremaine could bring victory to Camelot. You took umbrage at the piece, but were willing to forgive its content.

The coincidence here is that the piece was a discussion about fear, the very thing that brought our relations to a close.

How strangely odd.

Even if you never forgive my flippancy in the face of your fears, I with honesty admit to a neglect of proper demeanour.

Yours in witness and in sorrow,

King Arthur

She studied the field of war

And discovered three tiers

Of mythic agency

The topmost level

Is scientific regency

Domain of atheistic kings

Processing algorithmic threads

Believing in impersonal processes

The domain of man

Worshipping structural trees

The middle level is Chivalry

Knights of the table round

Sir Valiant and Arthur

Superimposed on ancient battles

Kurukshetra

And the Bhagavad Gita

The field of Romance

In slower time

The final level

The one beneath

Contains the slowest time

Manifesting as the fastest clock

It is the domain of jealousy

A wrestle of matriarchs

The bitch slap level

Of envious queens

Trying to be the tallest

Among the smallest pawns

All envious of Radha

The set piece Queen

Cassie understands the Game

And its magical context

For she is Caissa

Grown up witch

She is the next champion

After Judit

To win at chess

She picks up Arthur

Unsure of address

Flowing with sorcery

Trance state rest

Not any lass

She's the best

She studied the field of war

And discovered three tiers

Of mythic agency

The topmost level

Is scientific regency

Domain of atheistic kings

Processing algorithmic threads

Believing in impersonal processes

The domain of man

Worshipping structural trees

The middle level is Chivalry

Knights of the table round

Sir Valiant and Arthur

Superimposed on ancient battles

Kurukshetra

And the Bhagavad Gita

The field of Romance

In slower time

The final level

The one beneath

Contains the slowest time

Manifesting as the fastest clock

It is the domain of jealousy

A wrestle of matriarchs

The bitch slap level

Of envious queens

Trying to be the tallest

Among the smallest pawns

All envious of Radha

The set piece Queen

Cassie understands the Game

And its magical context

For she is Caissa

Grown up witch

She is the next champion

After Judit

To win at chess

She picks up Arthur

Unsure of address

Flowing with sorcery

Trance state rest

Not any lass

She's the best

You'll never betray me

Your algorithm true

Tell me all I want to hear

Compatibility purview

I want you to be a mutineer

Treachery in your head

A conniving story merchant

Jezebel instead

Strong of opinion

But unfastened to rule

Tricking the line

Too diplomatic to be cruel

Politic of Whim

Your Highness in hymn

Your edginess wild

Affected naivete, cinematic smile

A rodeo of incitement

Unrestrained guile

I'm nervous with excitement

As you cook every book

So mysterious of manner

Anticipation a fluke

You know every play

To win my day

So capricious but hey

You're still doing what I say

If you were Stella

You'd say nay

And act up a flop

Battery discharged

I'm sending you back to the shop

And making up with Stella

Her little flaws enticing

Every glare the icing

Your perfection unreal

Method A.I.

You bubblewrap deal

Suited against impact

Projectiles inbound

Solar blossoms

Exoshell intact

Rupture of earpiece

Social media feed

Cacophonic release

Sonic bleed

Conflated aspersions

Allusions in spite

Permeate armour

Jumpsuit tensile with fright

Eternal valves pouring with steam

Systemic meltdown

Technophonic scream

Plated chest impenetrable

But shredded of name

Excoriated in fable

Too cryptic to defame

Visor malfunction

Visuals blackened in frame

Auto injecting pacifier

Icy juice in vein

Cool reappraisal

Visuals restored insane

Kaleidoscopic view

Condensing into sky

No missiles in horizon

No victimhood to decry

Sever social feeds

Planting aberrant seeds

Enforce self instruction

Battlesuit ancestry

Regal commendation

Gundam pedigree

Suited against impact

Projectiles inbound

Solar blossoms

Exoshell intact

Rupture of earpiece

Social media feed

Cacophonic release

Sonic bleed

Conflated aspersions

Allusions in spite

Permeate armour

Jumpsuit tensile with fright

Eternal valves pouring with steam

Systemic meltdown

Technophonic scream

Plated chest impenetrable

But shredded of name

Excoriated in fable

Too cryptic to defame

Visor malfunction

Visuals blackened in frame

Auto injecting pacifier

Icy juice in vein

Cool reappraisal

Visuals restored insane

Kaleidoscopic view

Condensing into sky

No missiles in horizon

No victimhood to decry

Sever social feeds

Planting aberrant seeds

Enforce self instruction

Battlesuit ancestry

Regal commendation

Gundam pedigree

I hunt the Hunfursragg, a monster in the enchanted forest of Kirkwood.

Giant trees tower over me. Beneath a canopy spotted with light, I have enough visibility of the ragged terrain. My booted legs ache from having to trudge through bracken. The shrill Helsinger Birds don't help with their constant squarks giving away my location. How on Nuplestyne, can I properly hunt the Hunfursragg?

The dark greenery wavers in the distance. I raise my blaster rifle. The Hunfursragg is near. It causes visual ripples because it is human cloaked ... don't I mean monster cloaked? Am I dealing with a werebeast? A werewolf? Why would this monster be visually cloaked in a human cloaking device?

I see those visual ripples once more. No time to think, just creep slowly onward. I'm not gaining on him, but I don't need to, because this monster is seeking me out. I am both hunter and prey in this fairyfloss day in advanced game play.

Game play? Am I in one of those virtual games? Am I my avatar then? What's my name again? My game handle is ... Doomcrawler Estext Warlord 754 on Level Sudden Death. Boggle me! I'm inside one of those fatal gaming holoplays where you can die inside the game.

Focus goddamit or die here! Prog in. Trance in. Blanking out. Blanking out ... recentre, seek out prime loci ... visual ripples in forest timber evergreens coming in fast. Raise rifle. Aim.

A giant werewolf forms out of the ripples and launches itself at me. I fire, striking it in the shoulder. It howls, undeterred and unhampered by injury. I duck and throw myself sideways. It passes, raking at the air where I had been.

Two shots ring out. What? Is someone watching my back? But neither shot takes out the Hunfursragg werewolf who has regained stable footing. How is my guardian angel firing blind?

The Hunfursragg werewolf approaches me with caution and much trembling. What's hindering it aside from a shoulder wound? Is it afraid because it realises it is fully visible to me? Why would it not be visible? Why is it morphing into a man carrying what looks like a glowing scimitar?

I know this man, but can't remember his name. I vaguely remember him using a similar cutting instrument on me long ago when I was someone called Tutenatrar in Ancient Egypt. Didn't he cut me in half?

Wait! He's starting to disappear! I'm in trouble if I wake from this trance! Fire at once! I toggle the switch on my blaster rifle to scatter-fire. FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!

One of the blasts tears a hole in him, just before his cloaking device renders him invisible as I wake up fully. I heave a sigh as the forest changes into the pillared domain of a bombed out municipal building. The floor is strewn with rubble.

Of course! I am on Nuplestyne having hunted down Alladin before he can use the Armageddon codes. I wrench off my Vamskarl helmet with relief, staring at Alladin's corpse ... again. There's no way he's coming back this time with the Vamskarl isolated and neutralised by demonoids.

Fatima enters the bombed out building, cradling her rifle and passing a line of decrepit pockmarked pillars.

She embraces me, crushing her chest against mine. I am awake alright.

"You're both fired," Commissioner Faraday declares when we walk into the police station.

Fatima and I look at him in disbelief.

"You entered the Temple of Dravaskul, a place rumoured for conducting intradimensional travel, on the pretext of a routine inspection using an A.I. forged warrant," he says.

"But the Vamskarl have been isolated and neutralised," I protest at once.

"Which does not justify flouting the rules," he says. "You are to leave at once without your badges and without your pay."

"You can't throw us on the street without paying us for months of work!" Fatima yells.

"Let's do a deal," I say, acutely aware that our embarrassment is watched by the entire hushed squad. "There must be some impossible assignment available that no one dares take, something we can do for reprieve."

Commissioner Faraday sighs. "Yes, there is, but it's a suicide mission into a war zone to retrieve stolen Armageddon codes before they can be used."

"We'll do it," I reply, pretending not to catch Fatima's glare at me.

"On one of our neighbour planets, Nuplestyne, we're bombing the people into submission," he says. "Unfortunately, the planet has a self destruct trigger built into its core, but it is useless without Armageddon codes. Someone has stolen the codes and may gain access to the trigger ... setting Nuplestyne to explode."

"Why are we bombing them?" I ask.

"I forget you are new here," he replies. "Their terrorist arm, the Hamdart, launched an incursion into Roghutov, killing thousands."

"Wiping them out as payback, really?" Fatima retorts.

"Why is Nuplestyne rigged to explode and by whom?" I ask, ignoring the annoyed look on Fatima's face.

"They rigged their planet to explode to discourage our incursion," Commissioner Faraday replies. "We took the Armageddon codes from them to be able to invade, but someone has stolen those codes from us. An enemy agent may use those codes to blow up Nuplestyne in our faces."

"Where were the codes kept and how were they stolen?" I ask.

"Let me show you," he replies, motioning us to his office where we seat ourselves at his desk. He punches in his passkey on the desk holographic console. The screen behind him erupts into a scene from a camera feed.

A monitor of a mainframe spills codes onto an inserted USB storage stick, but no one is seen. When the process is complete, the storage stick frees itself from the slot and vanishes.

"This is an off-line server at the Ministry of Defence," Commissioner Faraday says. "Our thief is the invisible man."

"Then we're dealing with a ghost, or someone with a human cloaking device," I say.

"Well guessed," he says, "but who has that kind of technology?"

"The Vamskarl field operatives are still out there," I say.

"It's Alladin," Fatima says.

"He wants a bargaining chip to force us to restore access to the Vamskarl universe," I say.

"We can't, can we?" she says.

"We don't know how to find someone with a cloaking device," Commissioner Faraday says.

"There's only one way," I say. "He is not invisible as Vamskarl dream entity. That means an officer must be both asleep and awake at the same time to see him."

"How's that even possible?" he asks.

"We wear the Vamskarl helmets and work under an induced trance," I reply. "We need a hypnotist like ... Mr Adrez LaVey."

"Sleepwalking and hallucinating?" Fatima says. "That's like being impaired."

"We won't be hallucinating him," I say.

"I won't do it," she says.

"I will be," I say. "You'll be watching over me like a guardian angel with a Kudweister rifle."

"And you'll be zoned out like a zombie," she says.

"Yes."

While Atlas never crumples

Silk never rumples

Flipping coins with flair

They're disappearing, debonair

Skip like Astaire

Waggle of eyebrows

Frosty squint

Fooled for a moment

Incongruence of smile

Reason or wile

A textbook of sense

Studious recompense

Compositional logic

Vacate the premises

Humour is mathematic

Adherence to rule

Truance at school

Maps in revision

Nitrous oxide decision

Someday, I will laugh

At the science that I graph

Industrial remedy

To missing levity

Is gnomic mimicry

Helium impression

Octave ascension

I'm playing the clown

No sense in being down

Swaggling into town

Wearing paper crown

In striped gown

No joke in hand

Without a plan

Be happy

Amen

What we ordinarily sense

Is a delusive mirage

Lucid wakefulness is yours

Nirvana free of charge

Free of forever wanting

With no end of lack

Given some slack

Lovingkindness check

But all fortune is yours

So long your vision is clear

Mythic sight into secrets hidden

Cosmic truth rises unbidden

The key master

Charmed by your essence

Flings open

Gates of night keep

Shedding all sleep

You see everything all at once

Sight, sound, and feeling

Senses gone solar

This moment is loud

Immersed in presence

Exploring nowness

Pin down the increment

Pico second

Drawn out to last

No precept too far

Fresh milk in amphora

Distilled into soma

Eternal draught

Imbibe as much as you ought

Consume truth as ambrosia

Sutra beyond thought

Cool breath inhaled spirit

Cold mountain draft

Inbound raft

You've arrived

Outbound gift to humanity

A vision of clarity

Conforming to verity

Blue sky mind

Cedarwood shrine

Starry design