donderdag 17 november 2016
Lysander III: "The General"
My mother got inspired by a friend to name me Lysander. She first thought of naming me Alexander, which was interestingly enough another historical figure known for military conquest and war. But Lysander sealed the deal. She thought it was a Spartan hero - which he was. A quite particular, fiery and harsh one though.
In my early twenties I discovered martial arts and the 'dark side' of spirituality, both of which I practiced to the fullest degree. Me embracing this to such an extent was basically a covert outflow of my desire of being a 'strong' man. This desire was especially strong based on what I had lived, and felt myself as, before - which was being an anxious, insecure, depressed and disempowered stoner. I had to make up that and thus I decided to walk the 'hard path' of 'the warrior/fighter' where I was going to be victorious and the best, and only the best. And with that I decided that that 'the end justified the means' - by all means. With this I directly tapped into my reservoir of sub-/unconscious repressed anger to make this happen, deciding to claim victories - every bloody fucking day.
Within living this I became extremely harsh with myself and felt the need to be highly critical, self-judgmental and repressive with myself in order to push myself to claim the 'victories'. This was with literally everything that I did, even in the smallest of actions. My life became a battlefield where I fought with anything that passed my way, as everything became a quest for perfection. Nothing less was considered valid or good enough, even more so: it was a direct failure. On top of it all I also fervently embodied the antithesis of the 'sins' I set up for myself (inspired on Satanic liturgy), of which 'stupidity' and 'weakness' were two of the claiming chieftains. Hence the quest for strength and wisdom commenced. I embraced the fight, and would become relentless with myself to become 'invincible' in all that I did - I was to become a Nietzschean "Übermensch".
Walking this path I started to embrace and relish control, fire, anger, fury, destruction, black metal, fighting, relentlessness, abuse, deceit and the demonic - to a point where I even admired the fascistic. This was all playing in the loops of an extensive energetic addiction I built up over the years - and I felt that the stuff I lived was making me 'great' and 'superior' - aligned with great conquests, victories and wars.
Through self-adorned warpaint I related to myself and the world. I became a Spartan general towards myself where I tolerated no excuses, no weakness and no stupidity. I had to move, and I had to move fast and perfectly. There was always another battle to be fought.
Many of my close ones have noticed things - of me spiraling in a certain direction different from who I was before - but they they couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly (apart from me being very structured and 'tight'). This was because I was mostly practiced my beliefs and inner workings covertly; it was mostly a war I fought with myself - an inner war in my own head. And through this inner war an inner division was building up within me where the polarity of superiority/inferiority dictated that I had to suppress and dominate my 'weaknesses' with 'strength'. Basically this meant that my fears were banned to the realms of subconscious prison cells and my 'mistakes' to the realm of the cursed and damned. I repressed myself in my vulnerability, gentleness, simple joy, playfulness and spontaneity while trading the here for the future - living in a place somewhere over the top of a huge mountain which I was supposed to climb. Dripping with sweat and the dirt and blood painting my fingernails I clawed myself upwards, to a superior Valhalla as represented by some image I had created of myself in the name of 'success'. A huge task to perform. It made me tight, super-structured, occupied, worried, restless and busy of course.
And obviously, this suppression of myself through my 'Spartanism' created a big divide within me, as I marched over all my fears and deeper desires in the name of militant glory - not looking at what was really going on beneath the surface. For there was something deep within me - something silenced yet heard. And it was shivering and crying. This 'entity' was the 'little boy' within me that I refused to give a voice and who I blatantly ignored. It just had to shut the fuck up and deal with it. It was the little boy that enjoyed life, but lived in fear and chains. At a certain point it was so repressed that I didn't seem to know who I was as that little boy. I forgot who I was underneath all those ideas and images and drives and pursuits. And thus I became a 'grown up' through dominating and silencing the innocence and youth within me. It was the superior/inferior polarity at work, creating the inner divide where one part of me shouted and marched, and the other shivered and hid.
Meanwhile I was getting stuck and frustrated. But I didn't ask the right questions as to why I got stuck and why I didn't actually push through with projects, or even really wondered why I woke up many times in the middle of the night filled with fear, sadness, melancholy and deep hurt. I simply chose to 'deal with it' through working harder and becoming even more ruthless and repressed with myself. I just didn't see and realize that it was my own militarism and inner repression that tried, but could not, kill what was there in the dark and the deep - which was my inner divide, sabotaging anything real coming to fruition because I could not stand as a unity with myself and what I was doing. You cannot have two captains on a ship and sail truly effectively - especially when they are at war with each other where the one is shouting orders and the other is hidden away yet still in reality controlling half of the ship's directions. This inner split created an un-directiveness, resulting in sailing in circles and never reaching the destination. Yet, in the meantime, I was always and still frantically on the search for that promised land that just had to be somewhere at the horizon... Compounding more frustration, which effected to more shouting and silencing - resulting in more spinning and 'sailed circles'. Man, you are getting really fucking lost.
Obviously, this made me feel 'broken' and utterly stressed - for time was ticking and there was seemingly nothing I could do about it to make things really better or effective. At a certain point I could not bear it any longer. I needed a helluva way out.
Continue reading the next blog: Lysander IV: "The Hopeless Romantic"