There was a recent reply and link on another forum concerning someone who conducted a 38-year search for self—his discovery?:
“I always thought that if I kept searching and exploring, I’d discover who I truly was,” said Speth from his Wrigleyville efficiency. “Well, I looked deep into the innermost recesses of my soul, I plumbed the depths of my subconscious, and you know what I found? An empty, windowless room the size of an aircraft hangar. From now on, if anybody needs me, I’ll be sprawled out on this couch drinking black-cherry soda and watching Law & Order like everybody else.”
“Fuck it,” he added.”
Well, this kind of idiot deserved the outcome he did—searching endlessly for “self” like it was some kind of subjective/objective thing to be discovered. Anyone going around “searching for self” is going to end up just like this jerk. The Self is nothing perceivable or conceivable. Go around looking for it and it will always evade you. If you’re someone dopey enough to be going around looking for self in this fashion, then the first step is to admit the accompanying logo with this blog-post. Otherwise, just hang-it-all up and do as this jerk says:
“Trust me—there’s nothing out there for you to find,” Speth said. “You’re wasting your life. The sooner you realize you have no self to discover, the sooner you can get on with what’s truly important: celebrity magazines, snack foods, and Internet porn.”
Just brilliant there, Speth—yep, just as suspected, nothing more than a doomed maggot munching away on the defiled fecal-matter of your own making—you sure found your “self” at last!
Bon Appétit, pal, Bon Appétit!!!