As we have finite time, it behooves us to be careful about which endeavors we choose to pursue.  This requires a clear understanding of one’s proclivities and limitations, and how our personal inclinations manifest into desires.

So one of the most useful practices we could ever engage in is to turn our awareness inward, and study ourselves.

At a certain point, if someone doesn’t break away from their [the guru/holy book/tradition/etc.] and find their own way, then the best turn of events would be to become bitterly disappointed with what they’ve chosen to venerate, because that would be the only way to move beyond fawning adoration toward actual transcendence.

Despite the frustration, the start-and-stop hitches of any endeavor in its initial stages are incredibly valuable.

Those fitful experiences are real-life lessons in how to execute faster, more efficiently, and with greater skill.

If there is an all-powerful, all-knowing force that comprises all of existence, I don’t believe we reach It through deep meditation or a powerful “trip.”  We don’t need to—It’s always there and we can’t help but be It, and we certainly can’t escape It.  If It exists, I believe It’s indulging in a fantasy where It’s composed of separate parts, so that It may appreciate Its own benevolence through every conceivable perspective, and that “we” are simply It’s dreams.

If there is a God, I don’t trip that I’m It, (S)He’s tripping that (S)He’s Kent.

In my opinion, the right amount of worry is determined by a cost-benefit offset (whether the worry is made worth it by a probable outcome) in regards to a desired result.  Because in the objective sense, worry is useless; we’ll all pass away, meaning the only relevant question is:  “How do I maximize fulfillment in the time I have left?”

Striving to do my best and adjusting my strategy to be as effective as possible is more than just practical; I’d go so far as to say it’s spiritual.  In striving to do my best, I—by necessity—reduce egoic considerations of self.  In seeking to adopt the most effective strategy, I sharpen my perception of myself and the world.

The rest of the stuff—the books, the psychedelics, the meditation, the rituals, the philosophy—seem like icing on the cake.  If they assist me in doing my best and streamlining my approach, then great.  If not, then it’s time to set them aside and focus on the basics:  discipline, focus, and strategy.

I suspect that the deepest function of tribe and custom is to pull each member of the group forward into ever-increasing levels of capability, so that when their moment of truth arrives, they can either lead the collective through a time of darkness, or break completely away from a ritual-bound mob.

If one can deal with either scenario, personal responsibility is fully recognized, and fluidity of spirit is fully realized.

In the scope of an argument, attacking the position—and not the person—makes for better people.  Especially as it becomes more and more heated, and attacking the person becomes incredibly tempting.

Failures and victories are valuable feedback; they’re avenues through which the world mirrors our faults and clarities back to our perception.

They can also be traps, if they’re taken as excuses to wallow in arrogance or self-pity.

When I can face “the bad” with levelheaded objectivity, any craving for “the good” fades away, and I can navigate both with clear attention.  Enjoyment, even.

Ironically, at that point, it’s ALL good.