“I reached out for something to attach myself to—and I found nothing. But in reaching out, in the effort to grasp, to attach myself, left high and dry as I was, I nevertheless found something I had not looked for—myself. I found that what I had desired all my life was not to live—if what others are doing is called living—but to express myself. I realized that I had never had the least interest in living, but only in this which I am doing now, something which is parallel to life, of it at the same time, and beyond it. What is true interests me scarcely at all, nor even what is real; only that interests me which I imagine to be, that which I had stifled every day in order to live.”
Henry Miller, Tropic of Capricorn
Rightsizing life
The reduction of ambition rightsizes one’s life. All of a sudden, those magnetic forces, trophies, hefty pocket books, and rich attractions lose their lure. All the stylization and mimetic desire mean little. The sheep collective drown in the waterfall of white fountains. What matters is cultivating a satisfaction with fomo that becomes intrinsic. The reward…
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