The role of fear in identity

I notice that I rebel against anything which integrates me into the system.

It’s a complete loss of self identity to pay taxes, for example.

I notice that I have relied on women to integrate me. My tax accountant for over 20 years was a woman who rescued me from my habitual delinquency regarding conforming to the Australian Tax laws.

Immediately, I want to complain about the laws. I have to hold back from going on a tirade about them… really takes a lot of self restraint to just put a “full stop” and get back on point.

So, this is an exploration of my rebellion. The very feelings Richard suggested I look into 8-9 maybe 10 years ago.

I find it so incredibly difficult to do tax requirements.

Yet, and back to the point, the women in my life seem to be able to accomplish these tasks, personally, and even professionally with something like enthusiastic vigor.

I am really afraid of doing anything like such a responsible thing.

However, there is something about fear in the whole mix.

I have never really considered it, because any mention of “fear” is immediately repressed in my identity.

I don’t want to be them, because I see so much fear, yet I don’t want to be a rebel. There is nothing out here but dusty stories.

I wrote these two statements around 15 minutes apart. The first, I was trying to acknowledge it, the second I was back to trying to acknowledge it.

So that I am being honest, as I have always wanted to be, there is around 1 dried gram of “Mazatapec” in my system. It is a far less potent strain, and I am pleased with the synchronicity of having access to progressively less potent strains.

To the point though, perhaps facing finally the fear of “conformity” is the key for me.

I want to keep rebelling though. The temptation is so strong. Manipulating those who are enamoured with fearful subservient attitudes is so very very appealing.

I understand, as I always did, the mentality of dictators. It’s just so easy to get the fearful to do one’s will.

Why would anyone give up such power, except for the possibility of an actual paradise?

For everyone. A paradise for everyone

Which, is of course the ultimate actualist male dream; that a fearful woman would poke her pretty (or otherwise) head out from under that blanket and consider the possibility that something far more is at stake than our own “precious”.

There is nothing more malicious on this planet than to bring more of us into existence without first considering whether we even enjoy being here to start with.

The question, as always, is whether we want to live in a dream world, or we want the actual one?

Right now, as I live in a world where neighbours are brawling daily, where I have to consider what I am carrying would make a good weapon when passing someone doing weird things in the shopping centre carpark, what a actually am I choosing here?


I completely agree with the choice of Richard and Vineeto to live as far away from this madness as humanly possible.

It’s a completely sensible choice.

I have a meth addicted bi-polar woman in my peripheral social circle. Adamant that it’s everyone else’s fault. Like Shashank’s meme, there is nothing wrong with me; it must be the universe!


The underated driver of identity.

What’s more, it seems I have to be angry to explore this territory.

Yet, behind that anger is the part of me who wants to protect my “precious” claim to the throne.

Why is my dream world more important than her dream world?

Well, firstly, I don’t require new members of the species to justify my existence.

I got new members which I scramble to be the best example of a marginally thoughtful father, however, that was never the dream; that is the consolidation prize.

The dream is to be here on my own merits. As an entity, sensually existing, enjoying.

The enemy is, and I have loathed so many years to say it, but that belief I need someone else to endorse my existence. Primarily, through considering it a worthy exercise to learn how to pleasure me.

There, I said it. That’s all there has ever been to the entire drama.

That someone would see me worthy of their attention to detail sexually, in and of itself.

The penultimate dream.

That I exist in a worthy state.

This isn’t entirely true though.

I remember finding immediate peace, from the turmoil of desire and love from just the idea of having a daughter.

The ultimate human. The daughter.

And in her I would finally find the woman who actually has a chance of knowing who I am.

In me she would confide the ultimate agency, and through her I would change the world.

But alas, such a lofty dream.

I am sure the reverse is also a dream of many. That they, a woman, would control the power of their sons.

In all cases, disappointment is the result.

Because, they project the power to overcome fear onto the other gender.

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(I love how because this is my thread, I seem not to be limited to the “5 unanswered replies” rule! Viva la power!!)

As always my excuse is I am the “tip of the iceberg” of the seething reality of humanity.

I should include that, and what Craig said to me many many years ago, in my “signature”, if we had such a thing;

Craig; “I don’t know why anyone who be interested in actualism without having a PCE”.

Indeed. What would be appealing about a paradise for all without it resting on one’s attractiveness to the opposite sex?

It’s the only game in town, Mr Craig. The only game.

I just happen to be a almost rational participant, poking my head, more than what is welcome, into the space of those who seemingly can walk between such a paradise, and this reality of utter suffering, and still, deem it something of a “take it or leave it” choice.

I guess I am the curious onlooker of such a thing even being possible.

And from the gallery, perhaps, out of sheer wonder, I will become free.

Signature ends here.

And in honest declaration, so does 2.2 grams of tidal wave kick in.

I am almost pretty sure no one is going to die.

Which is all the reassurance anyone has stepping out the door in the morning, has.

So, до свидания друзья.

(Not said in any suicidal way, or for drama)

The whole world is trying to turn over last last stone, where the last bit of me is desperately trying to JUST be a kid!!!

О боже мой.

Me desperately trying to make sure the translation is correct.

Why did they want a project on Antarctica when we all really just wanted to know how to be with Gemma!?

The only way out of ANY OF THIS is to laugh.

I have always had a problem with taxes and other formalities too. Like I am too special to be dealing with this trivial shit. How dare they waste my precious time.

But there is a fear of responsibility and accountability. I want to be like a child without the adult responsibilities, hence wishing robots did everything for me. Too often I was perpetually allowing those resentments to dampen my felicity, I have made a lot of improvement in this area though.

Those who have friends or family who reported such an experience and we don’t doubt the sincerity of those individuals. Otherwise, I would have never have discovered or been interested in actualism.

If a person I didn’t “trust” or have as close a relationship had introduced me to AF instead, I would have probably been even more hostile and possibly never have even have attempted to sincerely apply what is discussed in the method. Though after years of attacking Richard from every conceivable angle, the validity of the simplicity of considering whether you are being happy and harmless can still come through as a sensible life approach.