unmaskd

[unmaskd]

The Trap of Small Things

Procrastination is a swamp where our hopes and dreams slowly drown, while we watch in passive despair. Outside of that gray swamp lies your life, with all its richness and opportunities. The land of bright colors, where things happen, purpose is not an empty word, and days are full of meaning. It’s out there, yet the cold siren call of the swamp is too strong to resists. And we go through the motions, knee deep in apathy, while doing our best to present a believable facade to everyone around.

Yet eventually, we find our way back. Finding it is far from easy and certainly can take more than one attempt, but we do find it. Emerging from the icy embrace of procrastination, we shake ourselves dry and start taking steps toward the brilliance of life. And that’s where, right between the swamp of apathetic detachment and the land of meaningful existence, lies a trap.

The trap of small steps.

Read the full article on Medium.

#procrastination #self growth #selfdevelopment #self development #growth #getting things done #beyourself #beyourbest #self improvement #productivity

[unmaskd]

From https://unmaskd.wordpress.com/2017/06/26/why-bother/

“It took me a while to find you, sage,” said a man who emerged one bright morning from the deep forest that surrounded the house of Puram Bam. The man’s voice was void of emotion. He was simply stating the fact. Puram Bam was observing a white marble statue that stood in the tall grass next to his house. He glanced at his visitor and turned back, without saying a word. “And now that I have found you, it is too late,” the man said, as if agreeing that they needed no greetings or introductions. This time Puram Bam spoke, “Why don’t you go back then?’ The man shook his head. “What’s the point? On my way here I lost whatever little I had left.” “Maybe you didn’t have much to begin with,” said Puram Bam, his eyes studying the face of the statue. “Oh, no,” the man replied, and his voice carried a shadow of what could have been indignation. “I had what others could only dream of.” He went quiet. Puram Bam stood up and walked around the statue. It was a sculpture of a young woman. She was standing in a relaxed pose, looking at something, her face full of wonder and anticipation. “You don’t care about anything I have to say,” the man observed, his voice empty again. “Do you?” Puram Bam asked. The man chuckled dryly. “They were right. You are not like others.” “None of us are,” Puram Bam agreed. “Well,” the man said, “since I have come all that way to find you, I may as well tell you what brought me here.” “Do you know?” Puram Bam asked. “My mind wasn’t among the things I lost,” the man replied, a shadow of anger creeping into his voice. “Of course, I know the question that sent me on this quest. I just no longer care about the answer.” “Then you won’t mind if I go back to my house,” Puram Bam said, and started for the door. “Wait,” the man said. “Please. I’ll tell you. I may as well. I was an artist. A painter. A famous painter. Famous and rich. The best galleries were seeking my paintings, and the Emperor himself commissioned me his portrait. I was spending my days doing what I loved and as good as I was, I was only getting better at my craft. People said that when they looked at some of my portraits they felt as if they were peeking inside the souls of those who I had painted. I had women of stunning beauty, was friends with the most prominent people of the empire, and my dog lived in a better house than this shack of yours. I had everything a man can wish for. Everything. Sometimes, when painting, I even felt more than a mere man. I felt godlike. In moments like this it felt like there was nothing I couldn’t bring to life with my brush. “Then one day, I received a new commission from the Emperor Moktut. He decided to dedicate a room in his legendary gallery to the best artists who ever lived. Of all the living artists, I was the only one, whose portrait he wanted in that room. And so he asked me to paint a self-portrait. For there was no one else who could do it better. “Believe it or not, this was a new enterprise for me. Unlike many other artists, I had always had little interest in painting myself and found faces of others more interesting than whatever my face had to offer. But this was the Emperor’s commission, and so I had a large mirror delivered to my studio, and started painting. “This was the first time I looked at myself as a portraitist, and I liked what I saw. The mirror showed me the face of a man who had conquered life and who had every reason to be proud of his work and himself. As I was working on the painting, I felt like I was discovering myself. Among other things I discovered a few gray hair. I smiled at that silver sign of maturity and wisdom, and went on with painting. Then, I had to interrupt my work for several urgent commissions and it took me almost half a year to return to that self-portrait. And then it happened. I spotted more gray hair. Not much more, but enough to notice. “I remember that moment more clearly than any other moment in my life. There it was — my grand delusion exposed in daylight. Those hairs turning from black to white, they were sand in the hourglass that I had been ignoring foolishly for years. But I now saw it in full clarity. It seemed that I had only looked away for a second — and more particles fell down, never to come back. Godlike? I was a pitiful creature, a miserable sack of flesh, too blinded by his hollow pride to see the truth. The truth that I was but a walking corpse about to start rotting in a blink of an eye. What was the point of doing anything in face of that fate?” “I didn’t even think of finishing that self-portrait. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. I spent days sitting in a chair, thinking of how pointless everything I had ever done had been. Of how laughable my pride was. And of how blind I had been not to realize sooner that my life had no meaning. “Then I overheard a story that one of my servants was telling another. About a man who told the Emperor himself to his face that the Emperor was afraid of dying. And about the Emperor’s reaction to his words. The name of that man, they whispered, was Puram Bam. I thought that someone who talked that way to the Emperor Moktut — and lived — was either insane or as wise as they said he was. And so I am here, though finding you wasn’t easy. But it’s been a long road and by now everything has lost meaning. Even the very question that brought me here”. “You never asked that question,” said Puram Bam. “Why bother?” the answer came. “Why not?” Puram Bam replied. The man smiled with disappointment. “Is this all you have to say, sage? Is this what all your famous wisdom amounts to? You are not that different from others after all.” “None of us are,” said Puram Bam. “So you are not going to try and convince me that my life has meaning?” the man asked. “It doesn’t,” Puram Bam replied. “I should have known,” the man said. “That’s why they call you a sage. Because you tell people what they already know but are too afraid to say. Thank you. This is strange help, but still help.” “Can you help me too?” Puram Ban asked. The man shrugged. “I guess.” “This statue. What do you think of it? Does it amount to more than my wisdom?” The man walked up to the sculpture and went quiet. A minute passed. Then another. “Yes,” the man said, finally. For the first time there was more than a shadow of emotion in his voice. “Yes, it does. It amounts to more than anyone’s wisdom. This is a work of a true master. That pose, that face, the hair… you can almost feel the wind. And her eyes… Was it you who made it?” “No,” Puram Bam replied. “I’m not a sculptor. Words are my marble. A good friend made it and had it delivered to me. We talked one evening about my vision of a statue like this – and now it’s here, more real than anything I could’ve imagined.” “I never thought I’d say this about anyone,” the man said slowly, “but your friend’s portrait deserves to be in that room more than mine.” “Now,” said Puram Bam. “That’s where I need your help. Do you see that sledgehammer over there?” “Yes,” the man replied. “Take it and smash her.” “Have you gone mad?” the man asked, stunned. “Or is this some sick joke?” “I’m as sane as you are and I mean every word,” Puram Bam replied. “I’m asking you to take the sledgehammer and keep smashing this statue until it’s nothing but a pile of crushed marble.” “Why in the world would I do that?” the man cried. “And even I were to, why would you want to destroy it?” “Because it’s a lie,” Puram Bam said. “Perfection like this does not exist in the world. Just look at it — it’s a slap in the face of every walking sack of flash. Leaving it intact means making that lie stronger.” “Maybe for you,” the man said, angrily. “This is not what this statue means for me. Or for anyone who understands art.” “And what does it mean for you?” Puram Bam asked. “Don’t you see the same sculpture that I do?” “You see a woman who makes you feel inferior. I see a thought expressed in marble, a mirror that shows the best in me. That’s what true art does.” “So now this sculpture means too much for you to destroy it?” Puram Bam asked, touching the statue. “How is it possible? You hadn’t seen it until today.” The man shrugged. “Do you always spend years to to understand value of things?” “No,” Puram Ban replied. “But I’m not the one complaining that nothing matters.” “Who said–” the man began. Then he went silent. “Well played, sage,” he said a moment later. “Well played. You have driven me into a corner.” “No,” Puram Bam said. “This not my achievement to claim. But what do you think I have done?” “You made me see that some things still have value.” “Like an object you hadn’t seen until an hour ago? Do you really think it was I who made you value it?” “It wasn’t you,” the man said, his eyes are still on the face of the marble woman. “It was the sculptor. But you made me understand it.” “You are doing it again,” Puram Bam said. “You are still in that corner. And you choose to face the wall.” “What do you mean?” the man asked. “Didn’t you say just a moment ago that we both look at the same sculpture — and see different things? So did the sculptor give it two meanings? Of may be many more? Who knows what others see when they look at it.” “It wasn’t the sculptor,” the man said. His voice was quiet now. “It was me.” “Yes, it was you. And I’m surprised you didn’t ask for my help.” “I don’t need anyone’s help to see the value of art.” “Then why do you need help to see the value of your soul? Of that thing inside you that gives meaning to everything else, including that statue. What makes you worship the creation yet damn the creator?” The man closed his eyes. When he opened them a moments later they were full of pain. “Because the creator is already damned,” he said, the same pain oozing from his voice. “You knew it sage. You knew why I came here better than I did myself. And now you made me face the truth in more clarity than I ever had. Only now it’s so much harder to bear. Everything they say about you is true. The only thing they don’t say is how cruel you can be in making someone facing the truth.” “That truth,” Puram Bam asked, “what is it?” “The truth is that I’m afraid. I’m frightened like a animal, which is what I am. I think I have always known the value of that thing inside me that made everything else matter. That’s why I felt godlike in those moments. Because it’s the domain of gods to give meaning and create something that meaning can be given to. And that’s why it is so unbearable to think that that thing inside me will be gone, with all the meaning it can give to the world and everything it can bring into it. This is what I realized at that moment in my studio. But now you made see the full value of what I’m going to lose. And I don’t know how one can live a full life once he sees the truth the way I see it now. They must…” Then the man looked at Puram Bam. “Wait,” he said. “How… You understand this truth as well as I do. Better than I do because you made me see it without any veil. You must have known it for a while. How do you live with it? Where do you find strength to go on every day, knowing that your life will be over soon?” “Look at that sculpture again,” Puram Bam said. “It already gave you the answer. What made it so valuable for you?” “Her expression?” the man said with uncertainty. “That look? I’ve already told you all this. It’s a beautiful sculpture.” Puram Bam shook his head. “It’s a large piece of marble.” “It was. Until the sculptor touched it.” “It still is. The sculptor only changed one thing about it.” “You mean its shape.” “Yes. But what is a shape?” “It is …” the man stepped back from the statue. “It is its form.” “Form is just another word. What is the essence of a shape? Any shape? The rock that this piece came from had its shape too and was much bigger. Yet this statue means more to you than any rock. So what did the sculptor do to turn a piece of rock into a beautiful sculpture? What did he define?” “Its boundaries.” “Yes. Its boundaries. Its…” “…limits,” the man said. “Yes. Now think of your soul. Does it have any boundaries? Can’t your imagination take you anywhere? Can’t you be anyone in your mind? Can’t you create something that would not have existed without you — and even make it real? You can dive as deep as no one has ever gone and travel as far as no one has ever ventured. You can even bring back the wonders you discover on your journey, just like my friend did with that statue. Can’t you do all that?” “All of that and more,” the man said, his voice hoarse. “Our souls have no limits,” Puram Bam said. “Except one.” “Time,” the man said. “Time,” Puram Bam repeated after him. “Without it you would never give your soul any meaning. No one can value complete infinity.” The man sat down on the log that lay near the statue. “I don’t know what to make of it,” he said after a long silence. “I don’t see any flaw in your logic. But my entire being wants to scream in protest. I know you are right. Yet I want you to be wrong. I know I was the one who drove myself into that corner, and I’m out of it now. But I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know even where to start.” “It’s a long road,” said Puram Bam. “And no one can walk it for you. Maybe you can start by giving your life something you’ve tried to take away from it.” A hint of a smile touched the man’s face. “You’re talking about its meaning.” “Of course,” Puram Bam agreed. “Although I don’t know why you’d bother to do that.” “Why not?” the man said.

#meaning of life #life #fear #art #sculpture #phylosophy

[unmaskd]

A Better Path

Read the full text at https://unmaskd.wordpress.com/2016/10/02/a-better-path/

Every time I head into my annual thinking session I have an idea of what I want to think about. And every time I end up thinking about something else. But as I go over my notes, that something else always turns out to be exactly the topic that has been in some way on my mind for months. And that topic always a continuation of the chain that by now has spanned quite a few years. This year was no exception. Just like the last year, my mind wandered off to an unplanned territory, only to come back with conclusions that made the puzzle more complete.

Two years ago I said that I have figured out the intricate building blocks of the puzzle that I had been facing for years every time I would take a hard look at my life. I talked about living every moment as the ultimate goal, willpower and procrastination being two sides of the same token and self-respect as the cornerstone of happiness. Every single conclusion I reached back then is still correct. Yet, something has been missing from the picture. Something fundamental. Last year’s No Limits idea ventured into that territory, but did not go deep enough. Yes, breaking through one’s limits is extremely important. Yes, earning self-respect is a must. Yes, truly living every moment is the goal. But what is the cause of the eternal inner struggle? Why is there a fight going on inside me, to begin with? Who am I struggling against? I can declare (and rightfully so) procrastination to be rooted in fear, but where does this fear come from? Those and dozens of similar questions remained unanswered.

Until now.

I don’t know how scientific what is about to follow is. I have no formal education in psychology and, despite a decent number of good books, I have recently read on the subject, I’m far from being an expert. I don’t even have a goal of becoming one. I’m only concerned with figuring out what makes me tick and applying that knowledge to reach that elusive, yet very real, state of true living. Scientifically sound or not, my conclusions are based on my observations of my own actions, thoughts and behaviors. As long as they offer plausible explanations and don’t contradict facts, that’s all I need.

So here’s my newest theory or rather, the newest state of my multi-year “what makes me tick?” journey. This is a distilled summary of it, since there’s too much content to cram into a single post. If you have been following my blog, you know that I’ve been puzzled for years by some questions. I’ve just listed some of them, but there are more. Why, despite having strong abilities, I so often slip into the swamp of procrastination instead of putting them to use? Why do I even have to face the absurd idea of wasting time on something pointless instead of doing what I think needs to be done? Why, being a free man in a free country, am I so obsessed with a concept of liberation and awakening? Liberation from what? What are those bursts of life that I experience from time to time, that make my regular existence look like a gray shadow of what living my life can be? And so on and so forth.

#conscious #subconscious #innerpeace #freedom #inner struggle

[unmaskd]

No Limits

Read the full text at https://unmaskd.wordpress.com/2015/10/04/no-limits/ 

Imagine an infinite plane, like the one they use in math books and on covers of SciFi magazines. It is unlimited, isn’t it? It stretches from infinity to infinity, after all. True. But only as long as you look at two dimensions. Its thickness is as limited as something can be — it’s plain zero. When it comes to the third dimension, an infinite plane is more limited than a sheet of paper. And yet when we think of it, we think of what makes it infinite, not limited.

Same applies to our lives. Limited as we appear to be in our physical characteristics — including the number of moments we get to live — we are truly, literally limitless when it comes to the ways to apply our capabilities. We can set an infinite number of goals, find an infinite number of way to spend our moments and consider infinite range of options when making a choice. We can be limitless — if we choose to. But most of the time we don’t. We set mental lines not to be crossed, not even to be approached — and call them our limits. Yet whatever we are limiting with these boundaries, they exists only in our mind.

Gravity is real. Our limit in defying it is not. That’s why people have walked the Moon and why we can enjoy close up pictures of Pluto. And just like the zero-thick infinite surface we can be limitless. We’d still have to deal with laws of physics, biology and social norms. But they should only determine our options, not prevent us from accomplishing our goals. Because the alternative to being limitless is to be limited — in a few or in many ways. This is how most of us spend our lives. Bound by mental uncrossable lines, created by our imagination or learned from others. Giving up when we think we can’t go further, without realizing that there are more ways to achieve the goal. Or worse, not even trying because there is a dark wall looming somewhere down the road. And so we make limits real by not trying to go beyond or around them. Yet, they are not a real unless we make them to. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Not only there is a way to feel limitless — there’s is a way to be limitless.

And the most important part of it is that as great as it sounds, becoming limitless is not the ultimate goal. It is only a step. A step into a state that makes everything else possible. It’s a foundation of life as it can be. As it should be. It is only the beginning.

#limitless #limits #life #choice #free #freedom #fear

[unmaskd]

There is no way to escape your own justice.

#life #self-respect #self-destruction

[unmaskd]

Solving the Puzzle

From http://unmaskd.com/2014/10/06/solving-the-puzzle/

A year has passed. At this point, I should be adopting this phrase as my standard opening for every Unmaskd post. Years after its beginning, the Unmaskd adventure continues to surprise me by taking unexpected turns and leading me to places I hadn’t expected to go when I started it. A once-a-year blog is one of them. This time I’m going to skip the long talk about traditions. It’s all here, in my posts. 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010… Now it’s time for the 2014 one.

It’s hard to squeeze everything I have learned and realized over the last year into a short post, so I’ll focus on the highlights. The biggest one is this: the problem has been solved. I mean it. All these questions I’ve been pondering about on this blog… How can I start living my life without regrets? Why do I procrastinate? How do I take control of my life? What is awakening and is it possible? The life looked like a pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces, some shining, some dark, some hazy, but all clearly meant to fit together and all hopelessly disjointed.

And accompanying that puzzle there was a feeling — not even a feeling — a strong conviction that I had for years. A conviction that there was another, better way to live. Not in terms of being more accomplished, or being “better” as defined by external moral principles, but simply a better way to experience every moment. A different state of consciousness, perception and self-awareness. A state, where every moment is meaningful and every action is purposeful. And comparing to that state, a regular day-to-day existence seemed like walking through a thick fog, pierced by very rare rays of bright light. It was not about reaching any sort of religious epiphany or finding nirvana — in fact, that alert, active state seemed like something directly opposite to it. It seemed so luring, yet unreal and thus unachievable.

Well, the pieces of puzzle are no longer disjointed. The irritating, nagging questions are gone, replaced by crisp and clear answers. And the puzzle, while incomplete, has taken shape.

Here are some pieces:

The goal is to live every moment of my life. To be in that alert state of consciousness that makes the usual state of mind seem like a fog. That state is the goal.

Accomplishments are means to that end. Increasingly challenging and fulfilling, they are necessary to achieve the goal.

Self-respect is my evaluation of my commitment to the goal, as expressed through my thoughts and actions. It can be only earned and it cannot be faked.

Willpower is a byproduct of my commitment to the goal. Contrary to the common interpretation, it’s not the ability to make myself do things. All attempts to exercise willpower just for the sake of “being in control” are pointless, painful, often unsuccessful and always frustrating.

Procrastination is an act of intentionally dumbing myself down to avoid making a choice or committing to my decision. It’s an act of giving in to fear. It’s a true act of cowardice. Willpower and procrastination are two sides of the same coin, with self-respect being the coin’s value.

There are more pieces — some already in the puzzle, some waiting to be picked up, explored and placed in the right spot. But the puzzle is solved — and it was worth every minute, day and year spent on solving it.

#life #purpose #willpower #procrastination #self-respect

[unmaskd]

No Regrets

From http://unmaskd.com/2013/10/01/no-regrets/

When I said last September that I was going into a self-imposed hiatus I wasn't planning on turning unmaskd.com into a one-post-per-year site. Alas, that seems to be its present fate. If I keep going at that rate for another year or two, this site will be qualified for a honorary mention in The Guinness Book of World Records as a the least frequently updated blog that still gets some reads.

It remains to be seen whether we’ll get there, but at this point I’m not back yet. Not in full swing anyway. But I’m still around and I’m stopping by today for my annual September 28 post and just to say hi to everyone I've missed in the last twelve months. Traditions have any meaning only when they are followed and I’ve come to like mine. In fact, I became so attached to it that this year most of thinking I did on that day was about the tradition itself. I was trying to understand what made me look so eagerly to this day during the year. After all, pondering about one’s life doesn't have to be limited to a specific date. In fact, in my case it isn't.

And so, as I was trying to figure out why my anticipation of that day had felt like an equal mix of irritation and excitement, it occurred to me it had become a mix of the past and the future. A day to look at the things that I have done and the things I’m hoping to do. The screw-ups and the hopes of doing better next time. The pride of an accomplishment and the resolve to keep on going. It has turned into a day when despite every moment of weakness I still know I have strength. The day of a simple question: did I get the most out of these twelve months of my life? And so far, every time the honest answer to that simple question has been a deafening resounding NO. Just like it was this year.

But this time there was also something else. That endless struggle, that never-ending fight with the Sloth… what exactly was it all about? It had always seemed like an unavoidable side effect of a human nature, something fully recognized and immortalized by many philosophies and religions around the world. And yet, it’s just plain dumb. Fighting myself over control means that I have conflicting life goals. But I don’t. I really really don’t. There’s no conflict between a shining noble goal and instant gratification, between an ambitious objective and the Demon of Procrastination. Because — despite the poetic beauty of the double-soul concept — there’s just one person. One soul. One mind. And that mind is I. And there’s stuff I want to accomplish, that I want to experience, that I want to do. And if I choose to do something else… well apparently that’s what matters to me.

So at the end, it all comes down to being absolutely clear about what you really want. Those few things — maybe even one thing — that truly matter to you. It could be going after that dream. Or being with your family. Or making a ton of money. Or finding your soul mate. Or riding a bike like a pro. Or all of the above. But whatever these things are, they are the only ones worth living for. Really. They don’t have to sound noble or grand. You don’t need to justify them to others, in fact, to anyone. Even to yourself. You only need to be sure they are the things you truly want. Because they are the things that make you tick. And that ticking is your life.

And once you find those things, just fill your life with them. Sure, you’ll have to spend some time doing stuff you don’t like doing. We all do. But as long as you can fill your time — even one minute of it — with things of your choice don’t fill them with junk, no matter how shiny or easy or satisfying or grand it looks. And that’s the whole secret to living your life with no regrets. Because if you think about it, filling your life by choice with things that don’t matter to you is sheer insanity.

So where does this all leave me? Doing the things that matter to me. As much as I can. As long as I can.

#unmaskd #life #no regrets

[unmaskd]

Counting the Moments

From http://unmaskd.com/2012/09/29/counting-the-moments/

When people talk about traditions they typically mean rituals established by someone many generations ago. While I respect (most) traditions of this sort, to me another kind of traditions is way more important — traditions, established by me and by those I care about. Which is why I’m writing my September 28th post, even though I’m not back yet from my self-imposed hiatus. When you do something for three years in a row, it’s a tradition.

As usual on this date, I've spent some time thinking — maybe a bit harder than usual — about my favorite L-word. And as usual I realized something. Don’t expect a revelation. What you are about to read is as trivial as it gets when it comes to statements about life. What makes it special for me is that now I understand it deeper than I ever have. A warning: don’t read this if you’re easily depressed. I mean it. Just stop reading right here.

Do you ever get this feeling of moments being wasted as your life passes by? It passes right in front of your eyes, in all its glory and complexity — and you can’t help, but feel that these seconds are being thrown away. You can feel your body getting older with every passing moment, you can sense opportunities being ignored, risks not taken, life not lived. There are life experts around you telling you that life is too precious to be wasted, encouraging you to live it, screaming at you about planning it, establish bold goals, going after them with everything you've got, taking charge, blah, blah, blah. But what do they know? They are people just like you, and their clock is ticking just as steadily. All you know is that you have a limited number of moments in this world and you’re just not using them right. And it sucks big time.

So you just think about something else. You choose not to think about that unstoppable timer. You pretend to forget. In fact, you do forget — until next time. But there always is that next time. And you know what it is? Slavery. We’re being held hostage to our fears. Fear of not using our time wisely. Fear of wasting our life. Fear of leaving this world eventually. And this is so wrong.

It’s wrong because it actually doesn't matter how many moments we get. Well, it sort of does, but not in the way we usually think about it. These moments are not infinite anyway. Yes, I will run out of them at some point. But precisely because of this it is so dumb to waste any one them worrying about running out of them eventually. It may happen in 40 years or in 5 hours. Who knows. And who cares? What matters is not how many moment I have left in the bank. What matters is how I spend them. Every single one of them. As it turns out, life is not about how many. It’s about how. Instead of counting the moments I should be living them.

Just like any statement about life these are just words. But once it sinks in, all of a sudden you realize that these words bring you closer to something all us want and only few truly achieve — freedom.

#life #freedom #unmaskd

[unmaskd]

Goodbye — For Now

From http://unmaskd.com/2012/09/06/goodbye-for-now/

Thank you all for your words of support after my last post — they mean a lot to me. They really do.

I have failed. Which means I have either not tried hard enough or am incapable of being who I want to be. In the first case, I’ll be back. In the second case, this is the last Unmaskd post. When it comes to my identity, Unmaskd has become my most honest expression of myself. I don’t want to betray everything it means to me. Under my other masks, I have an option of living (or rather wasting) my life as someone weak, while pretending that I am strong. I don’t have this option as Unmaskd.

I know what living truly means. It is so much more than breathing and eating, doing work and being entertained. Living your life is so much more. And once you’ve lived a single moment like this you cannot go back, without lying to yourself.

As Unmaskd I’m not going to be weak. I’ll either be strong — or won’t be at all. Running away from yourself is not a way to live. It’s a way to exist. And Unmaskd is all about living.

I hope this is not a farewell. But if it is, please do know that this has been one of the most exciting adventures of my life.

Yours,

#unmaskd #choice #life

[unmaskd]

Even a chipmunk was stunned by this view.

#nature #great views

[unmaskd]

Unmaskd: It All Ends/Starts Here

From http://unmaskd.com/2012/08/28/unmaskd-it-all-endsstarts-here/

This is going to be a strange post, even by Unmaskd’s standards. It will cause some disillusionment. It will cause some confusion. And yet it is necessary.

I have found myself in a tight spot, though majority of people would not see anything dramatic about my present circumstances. Even I can easily imagine a much worse situation than the one I’m currently in. It does not involve health, crimes, poverty or tragedy. It simply involves wasting moment by moment my life — and being unable to change anything about it. The worst part of being in this situation is knowing fully well that it is a direct result of the decisions I’ve been taking very consistently throughout my life, starting with teenage years. The hole where I’m finding myself in is a very logical outcome of these decisions, and it’s amazing that it took to so long to get where I’ve gotten.

Throughout my entire life I’ve been consistently disconnecting my self-declared values from my actions. I’ve been believing in courage, while behaving like a complete coward on many occasions. I’ve been a strong believer in doing what’s right — and consistently taking the path of least resistance. I’ve been certain that I have a free will — and yet acting like a dysfunctional robot, wasting hours and days procrastinating over simplest challenges. I’m a solid case of the most pathetic sort of liar — one who successfully lies to himself.

But what I’ve been good is putting on masks. Yes, there have been many of them. I’ve been good at pretending someone I’m not. An expert, a brave man, someone with strong values, a success story, a self-respecting man. The list goes on and on. But no matter how well I played these roles, I’ve been a fake for the most part of my life. A fake through and through — and knowing it.

Now I’m simply reaping the rewards of my consistency. Yes, I’ve done some things I’m proud of. Yes, I have some accomplishments behind me that are worth pointing at and saying “I did this and it’s good.” But these rare examples only show how much I’m capable of. Capable to create — and yet incapable to make real. Yes, I have reasons for not doing more than I’ve done. Good, solid reasons. But they are only excuses. I know I didn’t do my best. I know that I didn’t go for it with everything I’ve got. Heck, I didn’t go for it with half of what I’ve got. I know that I’ve been a coward.

Trying and failing is tiring, but manageable. I could live with this. But it’s being a fake that I’m ultimately tired of. Fake and weak. You get used to living with regrets about your past. You can’t get used to living with regrets about your future.

Ever since I became Unmaskd I’ve had a single rule: no bullshit. I don’t lie in posts in any way, shape or form, even though sometimes it’s so tempting. And yet this picture is still deceptive. It only shows my strength. It doesn’t show my weakness. And I’m not going to let it become another fake mask. I have enough of those. From this point on Unmaskd exists only as long as I’m capable of being the best I can be. The moment I willingly take the path of least resistance Unmaskd will cease to exist. This is my promise to myself and to all of you.

I’ve been lying to myself my entire life. It’s time to get real.

#unmaskd #getting real

[unmaskd]

Skies and Sea

[unmaskd]

Points of no return have an interesting twist -- people usually don't realize they have reached one of them until it's too late.

Unmaskd

#unmaskd #point of no return

[unmaskd]

The price you pay for being someone you're not is not being someone you are.

Unmaskd

#unmaskd

[unmaskd]

Sometimes we all can use a bright ray of sunlight.

#sunlight

[unmaskd]

There are no bad choices that lead to good outcomes.

Unmaskd

#unmaskd

[unmaskd]

The only time the truth hurts is when you are accustomed to living a lie.

Unmaskd

#unmaskd #truth #lies