— You Must First Envision It

The Hero’s Journey, as conceived by Joseph Campbell, is a recurring narrative pattern seen in myths and stories worldwide. It is a transformative voyage in which a character, often a hero, embarks on an adventure, faces and overcomes a crisis, and then returns home changed or transformed. It is a cycle of death and rebirth, of descent and ascent. The hero must face their deepest fears, confront their darkest demons, and overcome seemingly insurmountable challenges.

Every hero, at some point in their journey, encounters death. This is not always literal death, but often a metaphorical or spiritual death. It’s the point in their journey where they hit rock bottom, where they experience their darkest hour. It’s a severe wound that leaves a lasting scar, a pain that they carry with them forever.

For me, my darkest hour came when I consciously released myself from the dead-end confines of boozing too much, too often. From that day, life became marked by endless nights of a curiously welcome anxiety. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, every night…2am, 3am…4am. The purpose and the cure was self-evident: redemption—on my own authority and by my own standards. I was to throw myself into my work, seeking solace in the routine, the repetition, the aesthetics, and the achievement. I pushed myself every night and day…a million reps of work.

I strove for the emergence of something beautiful. I could already write content. I already had a blog of 20 years with thousands of posts and millions of words.

But I wanted it to be beautiful at first glance, and by my own making. … Not the conception of some designer who’s applied the identical thought process to a thousand blogs before.

And it is beautiful. Unique. There isn’t a blog on earth even close, in the way that I want it to be.

When the 1-year milestone arrived and passed, I began to notice a change. I was sleeping better, my anxiety was lessening. But instead of feeling relieved, I felt a sense of loss. I miss my drudgery, my struggles. They had become a part of me, a part of my identity. I’m strangely regretful for healing, for allowing even the slightest hint of complacency to re-enter my life and who I’ve become.

I fight back by pushing myself even harder, even physically harder, through the gym and fasting. I refuse to allow myself to become weak, to become ordinary.

I refuse to laugh anything off.

I aim for heroism, and I aim to bring other men—and women of high tolerance—along with me…kicking and screaming…for those few self-selected individuals who’re up for it. It’s a miniscule percentage of the earth’s population…the lazy, stupid, and weak…getting progressively lazier, stupider, [fatter], and weaker.

No rest for the weary.

We harbor disdain for an easy, comfortable life. We’re misanthropic and include ourselves. Original Sin applies to us, and it’s for us to struggle to overcome its ultimate judgment to have lived and to be found, in the end, wanting. We contain our pride, allowing only brief celebrations upon high achievements after grueling work.

We are meant to struggle, to suffer, to overcome.

I have no fear, except the fear of being a coward. I crave the challenges, the struggles, the pain. It’s the only path to greatness, the only way to truly transform and evolve.

I envision a hero, and I will not allow myself to forget who I am to become. I will carry my scars proudly, wear my pain like a badge of honor. Because it is through suffering that I grow, that I become stronger. It is through adversity that I will become a hero.

High Resolution Conscience: Diet Dogma, Fasting, and Ass-Busting

Afraid Of Everything

The Unimaginable

Feast and Bust Ass; Then Famine

Who Are You and Who Might You Become Instead?

Nobody ever gets even 1-minute younger.

From the first letter of this sentence to its period right here —>.

(…you’ve gotten older, and the rest of your life is shorter)