The Existentialist

Existential Writer / Speaker / Coach

The Existentist

Philosophy, psychology and motivation for a life of purpose and passion.
Discovering what it means to be truly alive.

  • Mumbai, Maharashtra, India
  • +9193-2020-1350
  • info@theexistentialist.org
  • www.theexistentialist.org
Me

About: Happiness

The Existentialist is an extension of About:Happiness, committed to helping our clients lead richer, fuller, happier, more meaningful, more fulfiling lives. We help you find your answers to age old questions like:

What's my life purpose? 90%
How can I be truly happy? 70%
How do I become my best self? 95%
What's my role in the the world? 60%

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  • The unheard voice

    The unheard voice

    People achieve catharsis in different ways - exercise, sex, music, food, good sleep, friends, spending time with a loved one, alcohol, drugs. I do it through writing, or at least hope to. It's hard to put into words the intense (lack of) emotion I currently feel, but there has to be an outlet. Solace sounds like a distant and academically comforting term. So do friends, and lovers. There is nothing man can't do when he works to the best of his mental prowess, very little that he can without it's cooperation.

    Society rewards extroverts for their default behaviour. The world rewards and outward display of everything - emotions, words, opinions and actions. Even a temporary introvert must suffer the punishment of misjudgement, and decisions taken for him, on his behalf, without his permission. The world loves labels, although it's constituents hate being labelled themselves. Money matters, and so does drama. The best actor wins the prize for richest, most sought after, most respected, most loved, most credible source of coexistence. The introvert watches on, waiting for his turn. Waiting for the adjudicator to ask his opinion. He would likely wait forever, unless he makes peace with what really is, what really matters and who we really are. The answer to all this is of course - nothing.

    I ask myself the same questions time and again, sometimes desperately, sometimes unknowingly, but the virtual nag remains. The weight. Sometimes I forget what I am after, but do always remember that I am after the answer, the solution, the elixir. There are times I can't think straight like right now; when logic, purpose, drive evade me, let alone belonging. But there remains a belief that this can be done. That next time will be the time. But also that unfortunately not this time. I'm just about sick of hearing 'not this time' now, it's been way too long.

    An introvert needs to be very self assured to survive, and thrive. And thrive he can, but only when the internal demographics have sorted themselves out - with constant tidying up, repainting and renovation. Society doesn't do any favours, but it never has. Coexistent and competitive - that's the way we are designed to live, although I question the designer. We are also preached to live with passion, aggression and strong resolve. Society rewards people of strength, especially among men. It also punishes the weak and vulnerable, in all forms and quite consistently. Indecisive is weak, flexible may also be considered weak. Impatience to achieve goals, misalignment with society, and any displays of incompetence - physical or mental can mean a big setback in this points based scoring for individuals within society. On the other hand, show-boating, cockiness, abandonment of those that live independent of social code, ridicule, social canvassing, use of clout to achieve or trounce - these are considered traits of strength and nobility. The opinion of the man with the strongest backing is always right - but this backing may not arise from competence or rational election. Society is flawed.

    The independent introvert does not only get out-voiced by the extrovert social, he is also everyday fighting a battle to safeguard his colour, his stance so that one day he may be able to overcome the non-existent noise and live in personal righteousness. And hopefully influence a crowd of his own.
  • Back to blogging?

    Back to blogging?

    I try to make sense of it all, classify everyone I know into stereotypes. Well I guess everyone does. But it's funny how these stereotypes blend in, and it seems more like a spectrum than two extremes. Also, it's very queer and interesting how these perceptions of people I have change over time. I now understand that my mental picture of the world is not absolute. And while some have a more clear picture of what they see around them as others, ultimately they are all just perceptions. Life is dynamic. Nobody sucks forever, nobody is at the top forever. There is a constant ebb and flow, and one needs to be mindful about that.

    I now tend to recognise my own bursts of dopamine, some natural, some induced. But I try not to get too carried away by them, lest I turn into a candidate for a bipolar disorder. Things have been good, but of course they can be better. Then again, they have been worse, for me previously and for others now. It is always good to put things perspective and realise that it can always be better but it's never too bad.

    I feel the burst of dopamine right now, and am consciously trying to conceal it, channelise it instead of going overboard and then losing it in a valley of lowness.

    (I do need to learn to finish what I start)
  • Zebra

    Zebra

    And so I find myself at the crossroads again, much like where I usually find or put myself into being. I am walking on the line that separates the Self and the Other… of societal independence and societal acceptance. They’re both tempting roads to go down on, for different and in fact conflicting reasons. And I the observer must not take a stand, much as I would like to. I know where I belong and I have once relinquished it for what I need to be, or ought to be, or what a bunch of people believe is the right thing to do. That collective wisdom advises you to follow the cash, feed your greed, satisfy your lust… or rather attempt to do so, for all I know. The righteous path sits quiet and righteous, as it should… nibbling away on the conscience, biting off parts of the visible soul for any misdemeanour. So who am I then? What I want to be or what I ought to be? Answer’s clear in the head, but the head is not clear about who it serves. In the meantime, I present myself as the deserving pig from Guinea, treading the line while never really enjoying benefits of either route. And then they call me a Master of the Decision Sciences. I haven’t seen John Galt yet, but I need to see him soon. Or never.
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