An addistraction is a neologistic contraction of addiction and distraction. If you’ve got one, had one or currently are on one you know just what I mean as it wraps its tendrils around your brain and forces you to see through its frame and everything else you know you should be doing and would be a far better way of using your talent, effort and skill rolls downhill and way out of your grip as you’re fully engaged with pushing the boulder that you grip to the summit.
For what? Ask your Self.
Spotting is the first step. Questioning the next and then forcing yourself to do something else the third because it all comes down to Hyper Avoidant Distractivity as previously mentioned but the difference with an Addistraction is that it can be a substance too as well as something you just do. Gaming, for quite a few, falls into this binge as does compulsive masturbation if you can’t get the energetic sex that would quench your immense drive for orgasms. By the way that in and of itself is a prime symbol there is something within your nervous system you wish to eject because its presence is what makes you anxious and to deal with it means one needs to become aware of what ticks under the surface so start by examining what gets you hard or wet because that offers a hint that is often linked with that which you want close but can only do via the distance a screen brings. We’ll speak of this later, just giving you an example. Here’s another one most never suspect and even the one who had it didn’t think was a problem:
“All I do is win” were the words he said and ever since an infant he’d been driven to outpace those around him with a relentlessness that veered on ferocious. His parents were astute enough to notice and pushed him towards the throes of competition in sports as well as rewarding his stream of A grades with whatever he says he wanted and thus its no surprise he became a business magnate and stacked chips to the ceiling as he outworked the rest and gave it his all and everything. “Its war, can’t you see it?” he said as he planned and strategized how to bring an end to those who would dare step or encroach upon his realm and beyond the boardroom he wasn’t averse to physical intimidation as he kept his ear connected to the pavement thanks to the chins he’d checked after a few drinks and a wrong glance in his direct led to the taking of offense as the yell escaped his lips of “This is the fight I’ve been seeking” as he repeatedly slapped himself and let a stream of invective fly from his lips “So I’m nothing huh? More than useless? Not worth a light? Don’t think I’m a problem?” he screamed as he advanced upon his target who was at this moment having second thoughts about the frisk that he’d picked because he’d simply wanted to impress some girls by showing up the businessman who was talking to them as he wanted their attention on him and this outcome isn’t one he envisioned from one suited and now booting his head in.
He ripped him and his two friends to shreds and the bouncers knew it best to dead the evidence, look the other way and pretend nothing happened because with him its on till the end and those who got on the wrong side of him often encountered more than enough problems that went above and beyond the civilized thing of just obliging someone on the cobbles. That and he always tipped well when he’d found a vent so if someone was stupid enough to step, well, then its up to them to collect their teeth from the pavement because once the man sees red then it won’t end until someone is near death.
With bloody knuckles, torn linen and immense grin he came strolling back as the three girls who started it all of were melting as they vied for his attention. “Which one of you gives the best head? Matter of fact why don’t you all try one after the next and whoever can handle the length can come back to mine for some sniff and drinks then you can tell your friends about the sesh”.
When next I saw him I set him a challenge:
“I bet you couldn’t, if your life depended on it, act scared to death of the next bunch of kids trying to impress the girls by fronting on you”. “Talk sense. Why would I want to do something so stupid? Besides, they had it coming and if you’re old enough to talk ish you’re old enough to get hit because grown man games come with grown man consequences. Speaking of which, did you see those three? Pure filth. I don’t know if they were attempting to outdo each other of they really were that in to me because we ended up emptying the war chest and spent two days going at it. My nose and loins are raw red” he said as he touched his nostrils with a tenderness that belied his weekend.
“So you can’t do it? Finally, we’ve found a challenge you can’t win. Ladies and gentleman, you are Witnessing a loser doing what he does he best” I said clapping and playing up to the imaginary audience as he started seething and frothing. “Listen” he said, with teeth totally clenched and violence barely reined in “You and me we’re friends, but even friendship has limits so never, ever talk to me like this again”. “I wasn’t talking to you at all, I was speaking to them” I said gesturing at the audience that didn’t exist in the flesh but did in his head. “All of that power, all of that strength. And for what? To attempt exorcising the demons your grandfather suppressed when the white men “Bud, bud, ding dinged” him and spat on him when he first came to the United Kingdom.
“You, he… What? Who… Who told you?” he said with palpable regress as he was knocked for six. “Have you been speaking to my parents. Thats private family business. How dare they…” he exclaimed as the rage started spinning again and he put his fist through the wall and started pacing. “They didn’t say a thing. You did. Or he did to be more accurate” I replied and let him have his vent. “Five foot six, quite thin. Not in the least bit intimidating and yet his temper was immense but not as big as his hatred for this nation where his father sent him against his will because there was no future for him in the village where he was always fighting against those who said he had nothing as they’d jeer and call him shoveler of excrement”.
“Listen, we’re Singhs. There are no castes in this. Thats all feeble minded superstition and stop doing that spooky bit around me. All I need is business consultation and a few of those handy tricks about my energetics. Not interested in the rest of this because I’m the one thats paying. You dance to the tune I set so leave my personal life out of this because thats exactly what it is. Comprehend?”. He was in an ambivalent state that oscillated between rage and releasing a huge flood of tears long held within and I knew I’d accomplished what I’d intended and now just had to wait for him to reach the state of disequilibrium that would come now the old Addistractions weren’t working.
“OK, cool. I quit. Take this a freebie, a bonus session and if you want to hire me back again it will be my usual fee times ten with no negotiation. Later”. And I left.
Now for those of you wondering let me fill you in on what I’d noticed during our interactions because its nothing psychic, even though I’m exceedingly empathic but is far more to do with psychospiritual inheritance. Lets take a cup and pour some liquid in. Then we’ll carry it around for a lifetime and let it soak up the energetics of all you’ve felt yet not expressed. It becomes more intense as we progress as the strength just keeps growing even though the volume doesn’t shift as the concentration isn’t diluted due to the life unexamined. That was his great grandfather aka shoveler of excrement. For those not aware let me fill something in:
India is ruled by a caste system. Meaning you are born into whatever your parents did. If you’re top pick then you win by default without doing a thing and if you’re the lower tiers that traditionally engaged in the works of sanitation, shoe making or other such things then you’re virtually untouchable and seen as three fifths of a human being. Sikhism is a pretty recent religion with some quite egalitarian principles when it comes to seeing women as equals and attempted to abolish this. It failed horrendously in this sense because female infanticide is still immense as a girl generates a net debt for the dowry one must service to spend on her wedding (which is always a lavish event but the other side gets credit) and the caste bit is ingrained within not just the culture but peoples mindset as well. This is quite intriguing when examined as it shows you the whole nature vs nurture thing in full effect because those who are used to throwing their weight around and getting what they wish do so at home as well and thus set the example for their kids. They see how others acquiesce and defer to the presence of their parents and thus inherit the same modes of thinking and being as the way it is and thus propagate the cycle.
Not a problem if you’re top pick but the chap from this example came from the opposite end of the spectrum and thus a few hundred years ago when one his ancestors decided to convert religions and thus drop their inherited caste name in exchange for the generic Singh they’d thought it would generate a change in fortunes. Didn’t work in that sense because everyone still called him by his old trade name of what he did but they stuck at it and by the time the boy who would grow to become the protagonists great grandparent was born there was an immense amount of rage rolling around in the bloodline due to having to bite their tongue and perpetually getting the short end of the stick from the wealthy land owners who liked a drink and were fond of music so they’d throw him a few rupees to play the drum and sing songs that aggrandized them.
His words sounded like silk but felt like venom as it was all so humiliating but the more they drank the better they tipped and he was making far more in this line of business than he was from cobbling so he stuck at it. Thing is his son would always tag along and thus his energetics were impressed by the tales of valorous legends of which his father sings and he took them as a frame of reference for himself and his greatness as all children are immensely egocentric. Add in the testosterone laden boasting, drinking, excess and occasional casual violence of the landowners and he, totally unaware of the process, designed and built a blueprint of taking no mess, being ferocious and living the lyrics his father would sing to pay the bills.
The kids around him railed at his impudence as he attempted to rise above his boot polish status and he’d happily dole out the violence that was impressed in his consciousness as what gave the wealthy and powerful the status he was craving. For the high caste kids getting beaten by one from the depths was exceedingly humiliating but they were pampered and he, now in his teens, was battle tested and walked around with a couple of chips on each shoulder that he dared others to touch so he could show them what happened.
One of his fathers friends who’d known him since back when offered to buy him a ticket to the United Kingdom and had a place for him to rest because he, in his old age, had turned to religion as a way to assuage the guilt of killing so many of his children in order to keep the land in the hands of his sons hence no girls were allowed to live and such sins were weighing heavy on his conscience. Grudgingly the boy accepted, even though he knew not a lick of English, but anything was better than this because there was simply no future, no options in this village.
Across the seas they went and he’d later recollect that time in the ocean with those just like him who were seeking something else was the best he’d ever had because landing in a place cold and distant bought him a rude awakening as to what racial violence truly is. You don’t need to speak the language to know the disrespect of getting spat at by the local NF who then gestured that they’d rather you left their fine kingdom as your kind are not welcome. Their methods of fighting were totally different to his as in the village it was open palmed strikes that seemed to be laced with tenderness in contrast to the rage filled fists and kicks as they stomped him into the pavement for daring to meet their anger with aggression. When the Police arrived they locked him up and beat him again with their truncheons and thus the mood was set for his time in this place which more than lived up to the reputation in the village that the English were a bunch of heartless dogs fueled purely by self interest.
Eventually the people he was living with found their fixer who speaks a little English and they managed to get him out and thoroughly admonished him and made it seem like he deserved it. “Son, this isn’t the village. This is a wild hostile place and they hate Brown skin. You can’t beat them or join them so keep your head down and make money instead. We’re all in this together and if you start causing problems it will reflect on all of us because these skinheads burn down buildings and are very, very wicked.”
He acquised. What choice did he have? But the rage he’d felt since childhood that he’d inherited from many generations of being seen a less than human due to the caste system was a time bomb ticking and thus he started drinking to quell the rage within. Hard work, tireless saving and he went from almost nothing to something as an arranged wife was shipped in as his father banked on his investment and thanked his stars for the little slice of land she brings and they had two children into whom this rage distilled as they went to schools and were treat different by their teachers and the rest of the kids who lined up to say they stink or “Why do you have a bun on your head?” in response to his proto-turban.
The kids got into their fair share of fights and endured bullying and after a generation when the protagonist of this adventure stepped into the flesh their family was quite rich. They lived in the West End and had a home like a palace due to generational wealth and buying properties then renting them out to people just like them. The profits were immense and they were a far cry from the days when caste set the limits but the old demons weren’t dead, just asleep within and awaiting someone who would animate their presence and give them life again after a few generations of suppression.
This is what I saw enlivening the drives of the successful businessman with a proclivity for violence that was mentioned in this missive although he was entirely ignorant of this. To him that was the way he is. He didn’t have a clue about the inheritance of trauma and rage he was living in the sense of the Patterns that existed in one long dead who he’d never met and had only heard of his adventures as the one who fought the white men and took the steps to establish them in this new kingdom. Even at nursery, if he wanted a toy he just took it without asking. Especially if said was a Caucasian and getting much joy as it made him feel triumphant. The same Pattern would repeat, again and again, throughout his life and it served him well as the modern world rewards aggression in fields just as sport and business where he excelled as he took what his parents had and parlayed it into bigger things that generated more and more dividends. He ran through women with a quickness. Blond haired and blue eyed princesses with which he would attempt to satiate a thirst that simply couldn’t be quenched as well as willfully going out to seek violence and then paying off the establishment had created a legend as well as his access to high quality narcotics which were most profitably pedaled by his best friends. They were quite a team when it came to getting it in but it was now when we met and he came face to face with his Addistraction without realizing it because he’d simply wanted to know how to solve a problem he was having in his business.
See, nothing exists in a vacuum. Everything is interconnected hence what was once will be again but those who wear these Patterns like a second skin can easily forget what life was like au naturel as they aren’t actually living their own existence but that of the ghosts of the past that dwell within their vessel. It may sound a tad esoteric but I assure you you are also having these effects. Maybe not as dramatic but there is a good reason why the basis of so many olde time religions was the pacification of the ancestors as they comprehended the connection and implications of those who stepped into this realm in regards to those who left and may have felt unfinished business as well as that which needed a vent. Shamans were great at this as they could spot and defuse the Pattern in a kid before he caused problems for the entire village because all it takes is a little introspection, reflection and deduction to realize “I am this” which then generates distance and stops ones life being played out as a puppet at the whims of those long dead yet unfulfilled.
From the outside looking in the man in question had it all and was fond of saying things like “Living the dream” and “All I do is win” because his dysfunction was entirely invisible and had never been called into question as he’d learned to live a masked existence that showed his parents what they wished and then the streets something else. His staff were terrified and adored him. Same with all of their tenants because they knew if they ever had a problem with anyone about anything all they had to do was call him and he’d come screaming round the corner ready to kick in the head of whoever dared disrespect one living in his building. On the flip if they were late with the rent or complained a little too vigorous about the tap which drips or leaky ceiling then he may just see red with them and thus it was a tightrope which called for balance as, in many ways, he did what a lot of them simply wished they were capable of being in a land which still saw them as second class citizens. Just like the village.
Funny how things change and yet they stay the same, yes?
Underlying all of this is the principle of Addistraction which usually kicks in to avoid these Patterns we’ve either built or, usually, inherited. In that sense they are old phantoms jangling new chains and this is why people often say “He’s such a nice guy, I don’t know what came over him” as they see a totally different side of a person. A lot of folks have better impulse control and not such a large streak of recklessness as the man detailed in this example and instead they suppress the urge which swells instead of acting on it. This has its own consequences that usually come in the form of ill health (often symbolic as the body tries to make sure the mind gets the message), avoidance, distraction or countless other types of coping mechanism. A lot of them have become socially sanctioned and acceptable but that is only because most people walk around this realm with their head up their rear end and won’t admit it stinks as that would require thinking different.
Sure, this example is extreme but it is vivid because there are countless people like this in many fields, not all of them are a success. This chap just happened to get in where he fits in when it comes to the business of violence and is something of a legend around the ends as he sees himself as Robin Hood who fights for the oppressed. At least he did until we met. Gradually he came to realize that there is only one true Opponent in this realm. Only ever one battle and that is within.
See, the past is always present. In that sense your skin is a traveling bag of your existence and the blood in your veins carries your ancestors traits, for good or evil, hence the grail keeper is who you be. That is a huge responsibility. These are advanced concepts for those who’ve done the preliminaries in knowing the ledge and taken their steps upon the Path of Power as none but ourselves can free our minds from the prison they’re within.
Therein lies the problem as 81% of those who dwell on the face of the planet are obsessed with decorating their cell with trinkets and baubles to make it more comfortable as they never seem to question why life feels like this. No, instead they’re like swans that swim around on the surface pretending to be serene but, secretly, they’re flapping away beneath as they try to stay afloat and stave off the emotions they refuse to feel, deal or release. And so they live a masked existence. Slaves to ignorance, disconnected from Inner Sense and totally lacking in any Knowledge of Self as (nine times out of ten) they place their power outside of them and impatiently await a miracle, some salvation or winning lottery ticket.
In the mean time Addistraction fits the bill. Its everyones favorite sugar pill that can fix a thousand ills, hide a billion symptoms and let you pretend, just for a moment, that things aren’t as they are but as you wish. Its the sound of the collective breathing a sigh of relief as they forget they’re sinking within the sands of ignorance and thus certain to perish. This is why a lot are not ready to disconnect. The truth of their existence is so horrifying that they will rail and lash out at the one helping as they project their suffering. “Its him, he is the wrong. He is the bad man! He makes me feel like this” as they point their fingers and vent whilst ignoring the three aimed at the true cause of the problem.
After all, if one, externally, can control, evoke and manipulate your energies in a way better than you can your Self then what do you call that person, my friend?
A Slave.
Till we meet again
