At first, I thought existence was malevolent, and so in an effort to be good and noble, I spread warnings and admonishments. Then, I realized whether or not it was true, I got more benefits in believing existence was benevolent, so I once again tried to coerce others into believing the same.

Later, I realized I’d rather just trust that’s the case, and unless explicitly asked or given a synchronistic nudge, let folks believe whatever they believe. If benevolence is indeed the existential default, I figure everything will be okay in the end, even if it takes a little while longer here or there.

I believe love for oneself means being willing to push others away. Not cut them off necessarily, but clearly communicating what isn’t acceptable. Ironically, more often than not, it’s done wonders for a given relationship. But if I try to keep a relationship through clingy appeasement, it typically fades due to increasingly begrudging erosion of tolerance, or the inevitable eruption where I’ve reached my limit. I’d rather just be upfront, lay down the boundary, and go about my day.

I’ve shifted away from associating abundance with time and resources, to associating abundance with infinite possibility. The idea that something good can come from something bad, that someone can turn mistakes into wins, and that a seemingly hopeless situation can resolve into unexpected delight.

For me, drafting is about consistency–hitting a word count or set amount of time. Editing, however, is about quality and refinement–going over the manuscript again and again until the ideas and descriptions are as clear and crystalline as I can make them at that time. So I don’t really see it as being a “good” or “bad” writer. It’s about consistently drafting and editing ad nauseum.

It’s a lot of time to spend staring at a screen. The most important thing for me is to have fun while doing it. If there’s no fun in the process, it’s a soul-killing way to spend your time.

“Writing what you know” is a great place to start. For me, personally, it’s not a great place to stay. I like to write about giant robots, enchanted swords, and psychedelic blends of magic and machines. I’ve never had experience with any of those things.

I’d rather write about what I resonate with, in full defiance of my limited experience, and shamelessly honor my imagination. (Which, if existence is infinite, may be portraying events in some other when, some other where, as a crystallized iteration of boundless possibility).

Strangely (or maybe not), it seems that if I allow my internal reaction to something, it leads to peace with the very thing itself. That doesn’t necessarily mean I endorse or agree with it, but that I live my life without spending effort and focus on internal rejection, even if I outwardly (and ironically) have to reject the very thing I’ve made peace with.

Eventually, with enough time on a designated path, I believe it will lead to the realization that one must blaze their own trail.

I think of challenges as dips in the road. If I hit them at the right angle and speed, I get to fly for a bit, maybe shift over onto a better track. I also might crash and get stuck, but maybe I can dig up a diamond or find something cool on the pavement beneath me.

Is that foolish? Maybe. False? Possibly. All I knows that it makes life much more enjoyable for me.

While acknowledging an outcome, I find it useful to internally allow my emotional reaction to that outcome, even if it’s an antagonistic expression, such as anger or avoidance. If I try to jump straight to acceptance, I often leave an unresolved tangle of conflicting emotions, which nag and exhaust me if I fail to process them out.

For the sake of logic (based on my suspected premise that reality, at its core, is nondual consciousness) I like to entertain the idea of a higher or deeper self: an aspect of individuality that isn’t bound by time and space, that communicates more through intuition and synchronicity than right-angled thought. It’s how I differentiate between fulfillment and hedonism–my greater aspect desires fulfillment, while my surface consciousness (if not aligned with its higher segments) can fall prey to self-destructive indulgence.