Spoiler Alert Black Mirror

 Dear Future Historian,                                                                                 06/07/2023 Canterbury UK

I am so depressed today. Let me rephrase that. I feel so depressed today. The attention to detail in language, especially the written one I suppose, is crucial. I do not identify with my depression. Thus, it is not that I am, me personally, depressed as a state of being. Depression is an add-on. Something that I feel, but it’s not me. Like a smell. Like a thought. This is what meditation and mindfulness are teaching. Detachment from negative thoughts and feelings. You cannot make them disappear, you cannot pause them, you cannot mute them. Still, when you realise that you can just let them be as a noise in the background, then you can just continue your life—almost as if—they’re not even there.

However, you should never try to shut them up. There comes a point where, you realise that the background voices aren’t your enemy at all. They are just super anxious and over-conscious guards. Warning systems. But, not like a bot (no offence my dear Bots). Or, if like bots, then like the ones in the Black Mirror episode, the one that you got a conscious and sentient bot version of yourself, to set up the thermostat in your house and make your toast.

…

Back, after a coffee break. I do not have a bot making my toast and coffee, so I have to have breaks. I like breaks. I can stretch. I can taste. I can feel. It would be sad if bots were conscious and sentient emotionally, but not sentient physically. Not able to have a hug. Maybe, that will save us. The AIs will want to merge with us so they can feel, and we’ll agree to it to gain immortality. Fair trade, I guess. Though, it does sound like a very crowdy way of existence. I mean, we struggle to co-exist even outside of our head. What if there are more of us in one scalp?

Well, my dear future historian, I suppose it is not me that break the news to you (if you are a bit familiar with the academic discipline of psychology, or even just with social media related posts—how is the social media of your time?), but we do not need merging with AIs to get crowdy inside our heads. There are multiple egos and multiple personalities in each of us already. ‘Since time immemorial’, as Carl Jung would say. Wars start from within.

I am reading P. D. Ouspensky’s In Search of the Miraculous lately. I am now in the chapter about buffers. He speaks about emotional buffers. They are cushions, airbags, in between personalities. Conflicted personalities, with conflicted feelings, conflicted preferences, conflicted aims. They all live inside us, and are separated not by default, but by what we might call coping mechanisms. Their job, according to Ouspensky, is not to protect us from external trauma—as psychologists believe—but, from the trauma of the realisation of internal conflicts. That these conflicts are possibly triggered by external trauma, this he does not deny. This could be what social media posts call generational trauma. In any case, Ouspensky’s view is consistent with the social media’s idea that there is a way out of it.

However, his approach can actually make a real and sustainable difference. That is because he spent in it more time than the required to make a Facebook post while on the toilet. Plus, he incorporates in the book most of the ancient knowledge that kept our species alive since ‘time immemorial’. Yin Yang. The fact that (to use one of the book’s examples) if you try with discipline alone to overcome your forgetfulness, then even if you make it to be focus, you’ll probably end up being an easily irritated and unbearable person that always knows where their keys are. Still, the book does not leave you in that dead end.

He suggests self-observation, without moral inner commentary if possible, and without losing connection with the outside world. (I am a solipsistic egoist deep down I guess; I can’t even make myself say ‘real’ word for whatever is outside of my head. Note to self: What is that about?) This last part, the keep-in-touch-with-externality (the philosophic term, not the economic one), is the one most people that turn into new-and-old-agey stuff do not want to do. That’s exactly why they turned to those ideas in the first place. To get out of reality.

Maybe gamers and alcoholics are the only ones that have found a sustainable way of life for thinking beings. Oups. What if our AIs get mental health issues? Or is it our fear of death, and our endless need for resources that is causing our existential terror? AIs won’t have these problems. (Déjà vu. I think I’ve written that before). So sad if they can’t kiss though. That is what the people that are trying to escape, in any way, are missing. The meaning of life is included in a kiss. And, that is what is usually missing from a life based on escapism. No. I need to admit it. Alcohol and drugs are not the worst for escaping connection. Gaming isn’t even more. So many friendships and relationships started from gaming groups.

The ones that are impossible to reach are the ones that hide behind the self-righteousness of self-improvement ideas. It isn’t new. It started about 2500 years ago. Buddha said something, the crowds—that called themselves his disciples—thought he said something else, and then monasteries were created, and all self-righteous rich unpleasant family members were abandoned—or even willingly submitted—somewhere (how to put it nicely?) more suited for everyone’s needs, I suppose. The thing is that this is what Ouspensky seems to suggest about ‘negative’ inner personalities. Restrain them, after you make sure they won’t mess up your ‘balance’ like with the forgetful example.

…

Back from a break again.

I have a different view on personalities. Bibliography and self-help groups, seem to suggest a Christian, or even Pagan approach of the inner world. They imply that in each of us there are archetypes, demons, the god of war, hormones, or however you wanna call them, that are taking control of our behaviours and thoughts. A control which we better fight back for. The positive message they have is the power of the individual against these immortal archetypes. The individual might be mortal—they all preach, each with their own different jargon—yet the path of the hero is to fight with these powers; not externally, but internally.

Fight them and make sure that you conquer them. This is the only way to gain back the lost self-control. So that you are a predictable member of society, and you don’t cause too much trouble. Despite the fact that, humans destroy the planet and everything they touch, and we either live by God’s grace (till Armageddon), or we shouldn’t be at all, or whatever. Either way, they reassure you, it is ok to lock them up in your brain’s dungeons eventually, or even extinguish them—the negative voices—because not only they are not you, but also, they are archetypes, thus immortals. You don’t do them any harm. You just don’t let them harm you.

These are the existing narratives. Genocidal as f@%&.

I am here to change that.

Inside my brain there are no monsters. No evil or subordinate egos that are sabotaging me. Just multiple MEs. With different preferences, different…

07/07/2023

What the ultimate solipsistic f@%&?!

As you can see, I didn’t even finish my sentence yesterday. I was interrupted and then too tired to continue, so I called it a day and started my daily—nighty actually—pilgrimage to the gods of narratives in front of the box (TV). I’m watching the Black Mirror series lately. Last night I saw the episode with the so-called roaches. For the ones unfamiliar with it, Black Mirror theme is dystopian sci-fi in the near future (that’s a very confusing way to put it, when what I call future is probably your past, my dear future historian).

On the episode I watched last night, our protagonist—spoiler alert—is a soldier on his first day on the battlefield. The enemy seems to be what they call roaches. Some kind of mutated into terrible and non-verbal vampire-like humanoids, that are referred by it, and should not be treated, or thinked of, as persons. Most of all, they should be prevented, by all means, from reproducing, and should, obviously(!), be extinct as soon as possible. Long story short, the protagonist finds out that the brain-implant the military put in him—with his consent by the way—has total control of all of his senses and makes him see some normal people, the military targets, as monsters.

Oh, no, no. he is reassured. You see, they tell him, they look like normal people to your eyes, but their DNA scanning shows a different story. The roaches curry vulnerability to autoimmune diseases and stuff, and they should not be allowed to keep contaminating the human race. Eugenics fully. The worst eugenics story ever (I hate how brilliant are these writers, bless them). And now, imagine me watching that last night. Wandering if I should overthink (next summer—2024—I hope I’ll publish my ‘How to overthink properly’ book). the solipsistic aspect of the point I left unfinished yesterday about internal wars, or if I should freak out about ‘coming out of the closet’ for being neurodiverse with a few autoimmune issues. I will initially state the obvious—nothing is obvious as my high school language teacher was always saying.

First: Eugenics = Bad. Very Bad. Any government, leader, drunk dude at the pub, anyone at all, that is trying to convince you otherwise should be exterminated. Like the Daleks do.

Second: No. No one should be exterminated. Genocide = Bad. Very Bad. Any government, leader, drunk dude at the pub, anyone—including me—that is trying to convince you otherwise should still be NOT exterminated. That’s the whole point. Otherwise, as it’s been said before, it’s like ‘screwing for virginity’.

Ok, now that we saved the world by explaining the basics, let’s go back to our previous topic. What’s in our brain? A squat full of people that need to be evicted in order for the landlord to take his property back? An infected building that needs an insects and pesticides extinguisher? Or what?

My head is not infected. It is not occupied. I admit that it is a bit crowdy at times, one might say. But, I say: ‘There’s always enough space where there are good vibes’.

Let’s now examine a hypothetical case study. Imagine a toddler that happens to be brilliant. Maybe also neurodiverse. Our toddler—lets name them Charlie, just because I don’t know any Charlie and it’s also a gender-neutral name—happens to notice things most people don’t. Minor facial expressions that autistic people can read so well initially, but then people around them freak out feeling like an open book in front of them and thus they are gaslighting them enough to make sure that soon they will lose all sense of ability to read facial expressions at all. Back to Charlie. Let’s say Charlie also has dyspraxia. None of Charlie’s conditions are spotted by parents or professionals.

One day Charlie is eating strawberry ice-cream. Having dyspraxia and still only learning to balance, Charlie drops the ice-cream in the most phantasmagorical way. Charlie is very upset for losing the ice-cream, but Charlie is smart. Charlie does not react at all for the first moments. Charlie looks around to assess the situation before reacting. Now, Charlie’s father happened to be looking—a rare event—at the cinematic fall of the ice-cream and in a moment of clarity he sees the symptoms of dyspraxia in Charlie.

All the eugenics propaganda his father had ever came across with started all together playing in Charlie’s father’s head, in that moment. His own child being… No, no, no. He’s thinking. This creates a micro-expression of disgust in Charlie’s father face. FYI, Propaganda against anyone different needs to trigger the reflex of disgust in order to be effective. Charlie sees that reaction exactly as it is and decides that this is not OK. So, Charlie has a meltdown. Dah. Of course, Charlie would have a meltdown. Then Charlie’s mum, who is self-righteous with a lust to be the victim, comes to ‘save the day’ and cleans the fallen ice-cream, while at the same time Charlie’s father is also having a meltdown. Stereophonic meltdowns. Charlie’s mum favourite.

Charlie then decides that they must have caused this mess. It must have been them. Toddler Charlie is willing to accept responsibility. Or, either way, whoever’s fault it might have been, Charlie is determined to not have this outcome of a situation ever again—a very unrealistic target for anyone interacting with others. I love Charlie. So very determined for a toddler. Respect Charlie. Respect. Being unable to stop the autistic meltdown issue, Charlie from an early age manages to transcend the meltdowns into shutdowns, and never have strawberry ice-cream again. Easy-peasy. Only, in order to do that, Charlie had to lock up in a brain-dungeon the memory of that day. Charlie’s memory stayed locked up in there for ages. Let’s call the locked-up Charlie, strawberry-Charlie.

Never having a change to get over of that day, and never finding out that it was ok to have a meltdown when you are a toddler, and your ice-cream has just fallen, and you can read on your father’s face the disapproval of your very existence, and stuff. Self-doubt started merging in Charlie. Now we can say that Charlie has been conditioned. The strawberry-Charlie, will get no chance to get over it, being gaslighted even by the in-control Charlie, who rejected this part of themselves as fast as their father did, and declared that strawberry-Charlie was worthy to be locked-up; controlled; transformed. The child was ‘saved’, by the mother’s prayers and Charlie never had a meltdown again as a child. ‘What a miracle. Prase the lord.’ Yet, every time Charlie met toxic masculinity, Charlie had violent fantasies. One day Charlie asked mum about them. Mum reassured Charlie that these are ideas that the devil is putting in people’s minds. And, they should not be listened. Ever.

Locked-up in there, strawberry-Charlie had tried other means of communication. Some of them less graphic. But, at the end, that was the only kind of message-form the in-control Charlie seemed to pay attention to. With any less violent way of communicating, the toxicity detector part of Charlie’s brain, strawberry-Charlie, that was still locked up, got no response from Charlie.

Years later, strawberry-Charlie fails to warn Charlie when Charlie gets involved in a toxic relationship. When Charlie is being gaslighted, Charlie is also gaslighting strawberry-Charlie, forcing themselves to believe that these violent thoughts are the problem in the relationship. During a horrible fight, Charlie is being too underestimated by their partner and the gaslighting is so NOT settle enough, thus it fails. The toxicity is now clear to all internal spectators. Charlie, in a moment of clarity, opens-up the door of the internal dungeon. And, no wander, the locked up for 20 years strawberry-Charlie comes out and has the biggest meltdown ever.

The toxic partner instantly gains the upper hand again. ‘I’m not gaslighting you. It’s you that’s F@%&ing nuts.’ Charlie needs to accept that. Charlie is not crazy nor stupid. Charlie knows it’s crazy to deny you’re crazy after you broke your spectacles, and you pulled off a handful of your hair out. The recently released strawberry-Charlie is walking, willingly this time, back to the dungeon and will stay quiet for a while. Till triggered again.

Meanwhile, Charlie, having being disappointed by Christianity—that did not help to silence the demons, and did not help dad being less of a d!%& and mum being less pathetic—turns to… less medieval suggestions. Psychology speaks about scary disorders, equally scary as mothers’ demons, Charlie thought. Mindfulness and new-agey ideas, on the other hand, seems miraculous. ‘Empty your mind. What a glorious idea’, Charlie thought. That might work. No need to unfold past traumas and craziness. Just shut them all down. How civilised! How elegant! We are all frequencies anyway, or vibrations, or hormones and genes; it doesn’t matter. Either way, we can be reprogrammed, conditioned, controlled, blah, blah, blah. Take the control back.

Charlie spends 15 years in this relationship, balancing between quilt for the occasional meltdowns, the daily shutdowns, the violent thoughts, and the millions of other internal dialogues that explore the archetype of guilt. On the other side of the scale, strawberry-Charlie needs to balance the actual brilliancy of their mind, that totally sees what is happening and has no way to convince the in-control Charlie that the guilt is coming probably from being manipulated; is not genuine. It’s more like guilt against their own selves for locking them up, or something. Anyhow, Charlie could have thrived academically and stuff, but has been too occupied balancing the madness of society, while thinking that they’re mad, and all that.

From here Charlie’s story can take many paths. Maybe, Charlie lives in today’s (my today) western world, where social media explain at some point to Charlie about gaslighting and neurodiversity, and Charlie gets out of this relationship, releasing out of the dungeon the previously misconceived strawberry-Charlie, and swearing never to allow any narcissist gaslight them ever again. This last resolution, not to be in contact with any narcissist again, externalises the archetypical need for separation and alienation towards some another; the evil narcissists this time. And thus, the cosmic balance of imbalance is restored.

What am I even saying?

Just don’t lock up anyone, before you hear them out. And, make sure there is always freedom of speech, and NO eugenics. And, NO genocides. Just don’t hurt people for the sake of safety. It’s at least stupid. Because, think about it, Charlie could have been forced to live, or die, as a roach in a Black Mirror episode, or could instead potentially save the world. We did say Charlie was brilliant, don’t forget that. I need a break.

Back.

What I need is to wrap up my point if I even have one. My point was just that Ouspensky is saying that if someone had no buffers and had a simultaneous acknowledgment of their conflicted personalities, and ideas, and needs, and all that, then they would freeze, unable to cope. Or, what an autistic person calls daily routine state of mind before coffee. How come, all these new-agey and religious ideas lead to what ends up being a disorder, or total annihilation (see Nirvana and giving up all decisions to God)?

08/07/2023

Hello again,

Still Black Mirror nights. How solipsistic again. I was saying to mum yesterday about Black Mirror’s dystopic warning of technology, and mum was like: ‘Only people who’ve done bad things, and don’t want anyone to know about them should be afraid of modern technology. When I was lost 3 years ago in the alleys of Canterbury, it was with the help of my phone’s GPS location sharing that you found me’. And then, I see the episode with the paedophiles being exposed.

I’ve talked before about that, my dear future historian. Haven’t found a single soul—other than mum—to agree with me about the virtues of transparency. I had suggested (would be good if you remember where; I don’t; I leave referrals for you future scholars) the acceptance of full transparency (the whole Big Brother inevitable dystopia), in exchange for the full transparency of whatever is happening under the political and business tables and universal income, coming from selling our data for personal advertisement.

Of course, luckily for you my dear future historian—although a Kassandra never saved the day—Black Mirror has explained to me what a terrible idea that would have been. For starters, even if recreational drugs where to be legalised (imagine the Soma in Brave New World), people would still have to go a long way before they are ready to have nothing to hide from their loved ones. Because, it’s them they want to hide from; more than the authorities. This is why in the Brave New World they did not allow exclusive relationships. So that people won’t start getting jealous, and then start want to hide things, etc. This and so they will never form trusty relationships and be stronger than the system, of course. (Suggestion: Singapore, since you continue giving me views, why don’t you buy my books?)

…

09/07/2023

Ok. That’s it. I quit. For now.

Please tell me, my dear future historian, that I didn’t just now quit forever.

Well, I am still writing as I am declaring I will stop. So, there is hope, I hope.

I know my philosophical ideas at this point are, to say the least, incoherent. And, the main reason I have a philosophy degree is to prevent that. Yet, this is my creative writing work, and art should not be propaganda, just raise questions. A philosophy book I’m thinking to write in 2025. But, that is not to discussed here.

The thing is, I spoke with a friend today. He told me he read my welcoming to the A.I’s (see previous post). And then, we started chatting about other things and I told him that I feel a calling (now that I say it our loud—I mean in ink—it sound kinda stupid) to talk to people about Preferentism, freedom, and all that. And, what does he reply, my dear future historian for Gaia’s sake? He asks me what Preferentism is! After he said he read my last post that, I was under the impression that, I did make it clear what Preferentism is.

Maybe, I am not good at communicating anything, and it’s 2am, and I want green tea mochi ice cream, and that is not fair, because I don’t have green tea mochi ice cream. Goodnight.

PS for the contemporaries: I know I have delayed the fourth of this Dear Future Historian collection. This has been the last post I do, to ‘complete’ what I hope to be only the biggening of my ongoing dialogue with you and the people of the future (if I get over of the fact that people do not really understand what I’m saying, because I have 7 pages of randomness, thinking I’m saying something). And, I also know that, I probably have missed spelling and grammar mistakes. But, I am not writing for the ones that read only for he form. I have actual, although chaotic apparently, things to say.

Thank you for reading this.

Stay safe and take care.

Lotous Leah Daphne