Agency

Sometimes everything comes together.

You notice, with some surprise, that you are a collection of atoms—and that this has always been true, and that it changes everything. The universe is not something you are looking at. You are it, looking.

Your fears, insecurities, compulsions—they're still there. But they seem to belong to someone you know well rather than someone you are. You can watch them without obeying.

From here, a strange thing happens: you stop doing what harms you. Not through effort. You just lose interest in it. The thoughts that were heavy become light, then lift away entirely. It is interesting to watch them go.

You understand that you exist now, briefly, and will probably die forever. This does not feel like a problem. You're not sure why it ever did.

What remains is simpler: you're here to create, express, feel, enjoy, love. The time is short. The opportunity is immense.

When I find this state again, I notice what I do:

I reach out to everyone I care about. I see my bad habits clearly—and, more usefully, I see how to change them. The small anxieties reveal themselves as small. I let them go. I remember what actually matters.

I stop performing. Around the people I love, I am just myself. Any other approach is obviously absurd.

With women, I am present to what we both are—that we are man and woman, and that we want to love and play and fuck. This is not complicated.

In work, I see my customers as people. I see what would actually help them. The problems worth solving become obvious; so do the ones I was solving out of habit or fear.

Communication gets simple. I know what I want to say. I know how to say it so it lands. Honesty stops being scary because dishonest relationships stop being interesting.

In my body, I feel what I've been ignoring. The damage I've been doing. The care I've been withholding from myself.

This is the thing about clarity: it is not effortful. The effort was in the confusion.

Without the weight of your fears, you stop holding onto feelings that no longer serve you. Emotions still come—but like weather. They don't accumulate.

You feel your own agency. Not as a concept, but as a fact—obvious, usable, direct.

You're focused on the step in front of you. It's clear what to do next.

And you enjoy doing it.