01-04-2018, 07:43 AM
So here's my current attempt at a DMSI mental bookmark before migrating to SE, in the form of a few representative private journal excerpts from the past couple of weeks. Sorry about the length, but my private journal (me talking to myself) is even wordier than my public one.
Excerpt #1:
Very few of us seem to see how self-fulfilling prophecies work, probably because we don't want to. We feed our own self-delusions. Yet so many of us set the table, cook the food, and then, failing to consider the side dishes or clean-up, complain that the meal is exactly what we prepared. Our perspective loves to self-reinforce (and turn its own drawbacks into blindspots) as long as we feel the need to be endlessly right about how we see it.
Many of us forget that "all people" are not all people. We don't see those that we don't see. Clearly registering maybe a few hundred out of billions at any one time. Whether we miss them on purpose or by accident. Some are intentional visibility choices and blindspots, and others are more incidental ones. Anyone points out an exception afterward, and we're quick to disqualify, reason by reason, whatever doesn't fit our perception, defending what we've already decided is the truth (to justify our existing perception as "correct") instead of reconsidering what may be closer to the truth (and correct our existing perception).
The first all-people limiter ("on purpose") is about who we choose to incorporate into our lives, sexually or otherwise. Several of us set our attention on the most common attributes that we want in others (qualities often based in things like envy, pride, greed, or fear), not the rarer ones (based on compatibility, sincerity, and depth). Examples: Prioritize youth and appearance, which aren't really as rare as people treat them, and, suddenly, I'm emotionally upset (angry, frustrated, whatever) because the young and pretty world that I assemble for myself seems largely immature, shallow, or utterly random on the inside. Prioritize those who can't emotionally hurt me, forgetting that all emotional intimacy includes some risk of harm, and the safer world that I assemble for myself seems emotionally distant or uninterested. Prioritize those who will pull me out of my shell, and the motivated world that I assemble for myself seems demanding, pushy, and unrelenting. Prioritize those who need my support and look to me as the hero, and the needy world that I assemble seems unable to take care of itself without me. Prioritize brutal honesty, and the frank world that I assemble may never spare my feelings, callously voicing opinions that, while honest, are interpretation only, not fact. Prioritize those who want me most, and the stalkers that I assemble may tear me and each other apart in a jealous rage. We select our world's negative bias when we insist on its positives.
This isn't the universe or society punishing us for wanting what we want; it's us forgetting to remember the other side of the coin when we toss our wish into the fountain. To read the entire contract before signing. That the cost per item should be one that we're willing and able to pay before we check out those selections in our world's personal shopping cart. That the advertised flaws in our purchases are acceptable drawbacks, not disappointments to enrage us later. What we target (and with whom we surround ourselves) says something about what we'll get, and what we've deemed unimportant is left as the (sometimes predictable) potluck minefield beneath it. As much as people claim to understand the law of attraction, very few of us seem to react to the costs and consequences of our desires as if we understood what we said that we did. We say "I know exactly what I want" while ignoring the fine print, EULA, disclaimers, and other posted warnings and then confidently screw ourselves over. And then get upset that our purchases had the exact flaws that we dismissed as unimportant, crediting the products for buyer's remorse instead of ourselves for buying precisely what was advertised.
When I assemble my world around me, I prioritize its membership (all relationhips, not just sexual partners) based on how its prospects feel about me, how they treat me, how sensible they seem (measured against my own unique scale of sense), how interested they are in my existence, and far rarer (and hopefully more mutually balancing) qualities than "Are they hot? Are they cool? Are they any other popular temperatures?" That leaves me with a world designed to make me emotionally happier, even if the scenery isn't a plentiful buffet of wall-to-wall hotties and coolest-of-the-cool best buds. Whenever my emotionally happier world turns up any sexually attractive members, I've already weeded out the craziest at the door, and the interest in me that got the rest through the door gives me a leg up on whether that ember becomes a smolder, flame, bonfire, or inferno. And, so far, I've been OK with how the monkey's paw has been reading those blueprints.
The second all-people limiter ("by accident") is about who we can't see due to an obscured view, and it's not as accidental as it may seem. It's when we let our world be affected -- instead of by who we choose for our world -- by where we choose to stand while making our casting decisions, in some ways more literally than others. Stay in the same town or city, and my view of the world is limited and distorted by those borders. Go to the same watering holes in said town, and, while gaining local celebrity, I miss those who diligently frequent other locations. Even varying my own altitude has an effect on who meets my eyeline, who misses it, whose eyelines meet me, and whose eyelines miss me. I should see and be seen, or I'll overlook a lot while a lot overlooks me. Conversely, I should be mindful of those who may worsen my world, no matter how conveniently present they may be.
I also see other filters and limiters applied to how my world looks too. For example, if I'm influenced by others' perceptions of the world suggesting to me what I "should" see (whether or not it holds any truth), a bit like what anyone else might make of this sentence. Another example is my current mood coloring how I register the actions of others, whether I attribute imaginary ulterior motives to people's actions, motives that may or may not be present. Or seeing an apparent lack of motive, when someone had a very good reason (that I valued differently or didn't see) to do something that confused me. Another example would be any expectations that I set for others, for them to disappoint (or, if I expect too much of them, betray) me. Or for them to impress me merely because I prepared myself to see even the unimportant as miraculous when done by a certain person. No matter how much I think that I understand the world, I bias my own comprehension of the data when I process its detail, meaning, value, and suspected intent.
I help to sculpt the surroundings that I presume to interpret, judge, predict, and resent. I filter (and, therefore, corrupt and distort) all of the information that I receive. I bear some responsibility in my criticism of the world that I filter, as I'm the one filtering it. And claiming that my version of the world is everybody else's version of the world is fairly short-sighted of me. If I don't like how my home looks or makes me feel, then I should make wiser choices in where I live and how I decorate it. If I don't like how my life looks or makes me feel, the same principle applies.
Being aware of the problem doesn't make me immune to it, so it's important to remind myself of these things when I'm blinded by my own perspective. Growth requires accepting that my original perception was limited (less informed), and the sooner that I ask myself if I'm missing (or doubting) important information, the sooner that I can learn to be someone better informed. It's like how being afraid or ashamed to ask an unasked question only keeps the potential asker uninformed of the answer. Refusing to update my perspective doesn't allow the world to look any different to me than it already has, which isn't a huge problem unless the world looks miserable to me. Ignorance may be bliss if I'm already blissful, but growth may lead me to bliss if I'm not.
Excerpt #1:
Very few of us seem to see how self-fulfilling prophecies work, probably because we don't want to. We feed our own self-delusions. Yet so many of us set the table, cook the food, and then, failing to consider the side dishes or clean-up, complain that the meal is exactly what we prepared. Our perspective loves to self-reinforce (and turn its own drawbacks into blindspots) as long as we feel the need to be endlessly right about how we see it.
Many of us forget that "all people" are not all people. We don't see those that we don't see. Clearly registering maybe a few hundred out of billions at any one time. Whether we miss them on purpose or by accident. Some are intentional visibility choices and blindspots, and others are more incidental ones. Anyone points out an exception afterward, and we're quick to disqualify, reason by reason, whatever doesn't fit our perception, defending what we've already decided is the truth (to justify our existing perception as "correct") instead of reconsidering what may be closer to the truth (and correct our existing perception).
The first all-people limiter ("on purpose") is about who we choose to incorporate into our lives, sexually or otherwise. Several of us set our attention on the most common attributes that we want in others (qualities often based in things like envy, pride, greed, or fear), not the rarer ones (based on compatibility, sincerity, and depth). Examples: Prioritize youth and appearance, which aren't really as rare as people treat them, and, suddenly, I'm emotionally upset (angry, frustrated, whatever) because the young and pretty world that I assemble for myself seems largely immature, shallow, or utterly random on the inside. Prioritize those who can't emotionally hurt me, forgetting that all emotional intimacy includes some risk of harm, and the safer world that I assemble for myself seems emotionally distant or uninterested. Prioritize those who will pull me out of my shell, and the motivated world that I assemble for myself seems demanding, pushy, and unrelenting. Prioritize those who need my support and look to me as the hero, and the needy world that I assemble seems unable to take care of itself without me. Prioritize brutal honesty, and the frank world that I assemble may never spare my feelings, callously voicing opinions that, while honest, are interpretation only, not fact. Prioritize those who want me most, and the stalkers that I assemble may tear me and each other apart in a jealous rage. We select our world's negative bias when we insist on its positives.
This isn't the universe or society punishing us for wanting what we want; it's us forgetting to remember the other side of the coin when we toss our wish into the fountain. To read the entire contract before signing. That the cost per item should be one that we're willing and able to pay before we check out those selections in our world's personal shopping cart. That the advertised flaws in our purchases are acceptable drawbacks, not disappointments to enrage us later. What we target (and with whom we surround ourselves) says something about what we'll get, and what we've deemed unimportant is left as the (sometimes predictable) potluck minefield beneath it. As much as people claim to understand the law of attraction, very few of us seem to react to the costs and consequences of our desires as if we understood what we said that we did. We say "I know exactly what I want" while ignoring the fine print, EULA, disclaimers, and other posted warnings and then confidently screw ourselves over. And then get upset that our purchases had the exact flaws that we dismissed as unimportant, crediting the products for buyer's remorse instead of ourselves for buying precisely what was advertised.
When I assemble my world around me, I prioritize its membership (all relationhips, not just sexual partners) based on how its prospects feel about me, how they treat me, how sensible they seem (measured against my own unique scale of sense), how interested they are in my existence, and far rarer (and hopefully more mutually balancing) qualities than "Are they hot? Are they cool? Are they any other popular temperatures?" That leaves me with a world designed to make me emotionally happier, even if the scenery isn't a plentiful buffet of wall-to-wall hotties and coolest-of-the-cool best buds. Whenever my emotionally happier world turns up any sexually attractive members, I've already weeded out the craziest at the door, and the interest in me that got the rest through the door gives me a leg up on whether that ember becomes a smolder, flame, bonfire, or inferno. And, so far, I've been OK with how the monkey's paw has been reading those blueprints.
The second all-people limiter ("by accident") is about who we can't see due to an obscured view, and it's not as accidental as it may seem. It's when we let our world be affected -- instead of by who we choose for our world -- by where we choose to stand while making our casting decisions, in some ways more literally than others. Stay in the same town or city, and my view of the world is limited and distorted by those borders. Go to the same watering holes in said town, and, while gaining local celebrity, I miss those who diligently frequent other locations. Even varying my own altitude has an effect on who meets my eyeline, who misses it, whose eyelines meet me, and whose eyelines miss me. I should see and be seen, or I'll overlook a lot while a lot overlooks me. Conversely, I should be mindful of those who may worsen my world, no matter how conveniently present they may be.
I also see other filters and limiters applied to how my world looks too. For example, if I'm influenced by others' perceptions of the world suggesting to me what I "should" see (whether or not it holds any truth), a bit like what anyone else might make of this sentence. Another example is my current mood coloring how I register the actions of others, whether I attribute imaginary ulterior motives to people's actions, motives that may or may not be present. Or seeing an apparent lack of motive, when someone had a very good reason (that I valued differently or didn't see) to do something that confused me. Another example would be any expectations that I set for others, for them to disappoint (or, if I expect too much of them, betray) me. Or for them to impress me merely because I prepared myself to see even the unimportant as miraculous when done by a certain person. No matter how much I think that I understand the world, I bias my own comprehension of the data when I process its detail, meaning, value, and suspected intent.
I help to sculpt the surroundings that I presume to interpret, judge, predict, and resent. I filter (and, therefore, corrupt and distort) all of the information that I receive. I bear some responsibility in my criticism of the world that I filter, as I'm the one filtering it. And claiming that my version of the world is everybody else's version of the world is fairly short-sighted of me. If I don't like how my home looks or makes me feel, then I should make wiser choices in where I live and how I decorate it. If I don't like how my life looks or makes me feel, the same principle applies.
Being aware of the problem doesn't make me immune to it, so it's important to remind myself of these things when I'm blinded by my own perspective. Growth requires accepting that my original perception was limited (less informed), and the sooner that I ask myself if I'm missing (or doubting) important information, the sooner that I can learn to be someone better informed. It's like how being afraid or ashamed to ask an unasked question only keeps the potential asker uninformed of the answer. Refusing to update my perspective doesn't allow the world to look any different to me than it already has, which isn't a huge problem unless the world looks miserable to me. Ignorance may be bliss if I'm already blissful, but growth may lead me to bliss if I'm not.
