Svadhishthana's log

[Svadhishthana]

Further update:
Went climbing with open relationship girl on Sunday. Before the date, she texted me that her bf had relaxed a bit on the restrictions he had for what she could do. But once she showed up, she clarified that we could fool around... but not actually fuck. I was a bit disappointed by this, but whatever - she's still cool and it's gonna be a good day.

We get to the crag and, unsurprisingly, her claims to be a 5.11 climber actually meant she was a 5.11 top roper in the gym. Ie, she struggled pulling 5.9 moves outside. So I proceed to show her that I'm the nicest guy ever by going into super supportive climbing coach mode, and then show I'm a badass (at least compared to her - I'm a chuffer compared to most of my friends) by sending an *actual* 5.11. Actually a bit hairy for me, considering I had 70 lbs on her and would have sent her screaming to the first bolt if I took a real lead fall. While we're sitting at the base of the crag in a relatively secluded spot, we're periodically making out and feeling each other up, hands going under clothes stuff.

By mid afternoon, thunderstorms are rolling in, so we go back to her car. I pull her into the passenger seat where I'm sitting and make her straddle me. Per previous convos, I knew she liked it rough - "bordering on abuse" - and I was happy to oblige. Turns out show really gets off on choking and being forced around. I pull her sports bra up and play with her tits, spank her ass, aggressively make out with her while it's raining outside... and while other people mill about the parking area packing up, lol.

So we go to a nearby brewery to get some beers, and spend a couple hours there drinking and talking. As the day goes on and she gets more comfortable with me (and more drunk) she talks more about how she's frustrated in her relationship. Her boyfriend is also in his 30s, but is insecure about her seeing other guys and wants to keep their current dynamic to only seeing couples since he can't get laid on his own. He also hates his job and suffers from anxiety and apparently is a little bitch when climbing. As we keep talking, she eventually tells me that she's basically waiting and trying to get him to a better place before breaking up with him so he won't kill himself.

I feel bad for the guy, since I'm basically cucking him, and I've been in his shoes before. But at the same time, he's refusing help his gf is offering him, and is making a bunch of shit excuses about why he can't improve his life. And since I've been in his shoes, I know that I really can't do anything to help him - he's not my responsibility, he wouldn't accept my help anyway, and he's not gonna change until his gf breaks up with him. And when that happens, he's gonna have a choice of either roping himself, or gritting his teeth and promising himself that he will find a way to make his life worth living.

After a few beers, it's still light out, so we go for a walk down a nearby country road. As we're walking, she spots a nearby rib of rock sticking out of the mountainside and says "I wanna be on top of that!" Some light trespassing on private land, sounds like fun! We hike up the mountain through the forest for a bit until we find the rib. Now we start getting really heavy - me choking her, pinning her against the rock, grabbing her pussy over her pants, and her egging me on. As dusk approaches, we walk back to her car.

It's almost 11 as we get back closer to town. She halfheartedly pitches the idea of getting something to eat, but then admits that she just doesn't want to go home where her bf will complain about how she left him home alone all day with nothing to do. When we're almost back to my place, I talk about how she can find other climbing partners, and she says something to the effect of "but won't you just be my climbing partner?"

For me, this is a hard no. The day was fun, but I know from experience that I never get my own sends if I'm just always playing climbing coach. Plus, as an ethical stance on both our parts, we can't fuck, so time spent with a less than stellar climbing partner isn't even fulfilling the original purpose of finding that partner - fucking. So I tell her what's been on my mind: that with such a messy relationship, I don't want to see her until she's broken up with her bf. She says she understands, but starts crying, and I give her my shoulder to cry on. And then we begin a long, sad make out/cuddle session until it is quite late and she needs to leave.

Next morning, she texts me, and tells me I left my keys in her car. She comes by in the evening to give them to me, and brings some bubbly water for us to sip on. We hang out on my porch for a bit, then move into my van when it starts raining. Cue more making out and fooling around, her grinding on my thigh while I choke her, her saying how bad she wants to suck my dick, me forcing her to her knees and having her kiss my dick through my pants... until it is getting late and she has to go before her bf starts complaining too much. I walk her back to her car and tell her to she's wearing tomorrow. She's excited to do as she's told. Later that evening, she sends me a video of her kneeling naked on the floor, showing off her body and playing with her tits.

Today, she followed up, sending me pics of her outfit, and then her gym outfit, telling me all she can think about is fucking me. Good girl.

It's funny, because this whole fooling-around-with-no-sex scenario is what drove me insane when I was in my open relationship. But now, it's just fun. Why? Because I have another date lined up Wednesday and am working on another for Thursday.

========================
Log


Drove up to my Airbnb. Today and tomorrow will be doing things around here.

Today:
- Meditate
- Kettlebells
- Work
- Install fallback internet
- Install wifi enabled hot tub controller
- Hang additional signage
- Inspect Airbnb for critical issues.

Tomorrow:
- Meditate
- Work
- Kettlebells
- Build shelves for my cleaning supplies (request of my cleaners)
- Meet hot tub repair guy to figure out some clogged jets.
- Date with ultrarunner milf

[Svadhishthana]

Just put in my two weeks notice. I will officially retire in September 15th, 2023 after working for 8 years and change.

[Svadhishthana]

Friday was a hell of a good day. Had some things break and did a bit of the runaround, but got the important things done.


LAY 20
At 1, Open Relationship Girl came over. She broke up with her bf the day before, and we'd been texting back and forth about how horny we are for each other. She brings a bottle of rosé, and we down it while sitting in the back yard and teasing each other. Then back to my van (cranking the AC to combat the mid day heat) for a 4 hour fuck session. She's an excellent combination of being hot, being a cool person, and being a very eager sub. Only problem is she's a relatively hard cummer compared to other similar girls - but nothing the vibe couldn't handle.

At 5 she has to go home to hang with her ex. She left her phone in her purse next to the empty wine bottle outside - by the time we finished fucking, he'd left her about 20 missed calls and messages. Jesus dude.

======================

After I send her on her way, I gear up for my retirement party. A bunch of friends come over, and friends of friends, including a pretty sexy 30 yo personal trainer. Seemingly all the girls I didn't know had eyes for me - probably something to do with the fact that I was the man of the hour, and I was greeting everyone with my shirt off (lots of us were working problems on the garage climbing board while slamming beers), and I still hadn't showered after Open Relationship Girl came over. Party is excellent, and I drink a bit too much whiskey and go to bed smiling.

Friday was a culmination of two very big goals at the same time. First, obviously, was celebrating my retirement. It feels simultaneously exhilarating and horrifying to be dropping my stable source of active income - but I know I can always recover somehow, and I know that delaying it any more would simply be delaying living my life.

Second was getting my 20th lay. While I don't think I ever mentioned it explicitly, I had this as a goal in the back of my mind ever since I read the tinder guide. I'm sure "fuck 20 girls and then you're allowed to make up your own theories" was more a number made up out of frustration with inexperienced guys pontificating than a number with any real significance. But at the same time... I really like pontificating, so hitting that number subconsciously became very appealing, and I've considered it to be something of a landmark. I feel I am officially no longer a guy who can't get laid, and instead I am now simply a guy who is not very good at getting laid.

If any new guys read this - some advice. To recap my journey, I joined this forum having exactly one lay. Over the course of the last couple years, while taking significant breaks to pursue other goals and honestly not working that hard most of the time, I fucked 19 more women. Why did I succeed here? I can attribute my success to only one thing: the magical power of Shutting The Fuck Up. I read the tinder guide. It said "do this". And despite the rebellious nature of my inner snot-nosed kid, I shut the fuck up and followed my marching orders. I did the work. I got the results. That's all there is to it.

Today, hungover, I made a pot of coffee and gradually meandered to the park near my house with my notebook. As I looked at the city skyline, I stubbed out what I want my life to look like, breaking it down until I had a list of things to do in the next two weeks before I pack up my car and leave. Most of my tasks are practical, and I won't have much time to chase any tail, or really have much fun. That's fine. I'll be having plenty of fun in the near future.

But now I have time and flexibility. And I'm no longer a stranger to pussy. So I think it's time I shift my focus. Yeah, sex is fun, but it isn't really what I'm after. What I'm really after is overcoming my social anxiety around sex, and just general social anxiety. I look forward to shutting the fuck up and putting the work in.

[nipple-flip]

killer mentality. something to learn from

congrats on the retirement, go fuck yourself!

[Svadhishthana]

Matched with a smoking hot girl yesterday. Messaged, got number, set up the date for last night. Exactly my type - athletic, dreads, tattoos. But the date didn't go well. I pitched my usual place to meet, she countered that we should meet on her side of town - okay, whatever. Then the place she picked was closed due to the holiday. Seemingly everything is closed due to the holiday. So we go to her place and grab a couple beers and walk around the park nearby. Sit on a bench near a lake. Talk about shit for a while. Make out. Walk back to her place, and she tells me straight up she doesn't wanna hook up, so we part amicably.

After my recent string of successes, this sort of failure is good for me. Losing out on girls I'm really into is painful, and pain is the motivator for change. So, an analysis -

First, she initially set the frame of the date by choosing the location. When I found it was closed, I pitched the beers in the park idea - but the beers were at her place and the park was close to her, and she brought her dog from home to the park. So since she was on her home turf and I was basically lost, she was leading the date the whole time. Or else her dog was. In retrospect, I should have pushed for a meet-in-the-middle situation, where at least we both would have been off balance and she wouldn't have had her friggin dog. But also, I should have been able to recover from being taken out of my element, and taken a more active role in deciding where the date went.

Second - when she showed up, she immediately seemed a bit closed off to me. It's possible that this was just destined to be a blowout from the start - she got her first look at me, didn't feel instantly horny, and was done with me from there. On the other hand, my reaction to this was sub par, and it drove my vibe through the rest of the date - being informational instead of fun and flirty. I basically just fell into the back seat of my brain and let my normal habits take over, and so was a garbage date.

Part of the reason for my failings here, I think, was the very subpar sleep I got the night before, combined with the physical activity of the day. This left me dulled out, low energy, and boring. But at the same time, I should have been able to rally and be more energetic and fun during this time.

I'm a big fan of Andy's philosophy of "just be yourself on dates", with the corollary that you should constantly be trying to improve that self, so when you go on dates, it makes girls want to fuck you. If I were a more fun, flirty, optimistic person then I wouldn't need to put effort into being these things when trying to bed women - instead, I would just be myself, and soon that self would be railing a hot girl.

Fundamentally, my issues here were: being nervous because I felt like she was too good for me; not pushing back on her taking the frame because I was afraid I'd lose her if I didn't give up my own convenience; a lack of optimism about my prospects after she initially seemed to lack interest, which drove me into robot mode. Any of the other hurdles - different locations, places being closed, me being tired - are really just distractions.

So that's my real goal going into my retirement. To fundamentally change my brain and personality. I'm sure it'll be a cakewalk.

========================
Log

Today:
Meditate
Buy Health Insurance
Work
Board session
Start painting my deck
Tour some potential tenants
Another date

[Svadhishthana]

Date flaked last night. Did a few interviews to fill rooms in my house. Got one filled, and the other one will be easier.

Unfortunately, was a dumbass and got drunk. My tenants got me a mini-keg last Friday as a retirement present, and some of my friends tapped it at the party, but left it 3/4 full. Cheap bastard that I am, I saw it sitting there and thought "it would be irresponsible to let it go to waste!" So didn't get anything done in the evening and slept like shit. Oh well.

Re - my last post. I'm want to come up with an actual plan for rewiring my brain. But then, I feel this may be counterproductive - I'm trying to be less analytical and rigid. An analytically devised, rigid plan for becoming a happy, optimistic, positive, confident person... well, I mean, I'm skeptical. But then, if a logical understandable progression won't work, then how do I work towards it...? Kierkegaard's Leap of Faith comes to mind here...

The fundamental problem being that the whole thing hinges on real optimism. Not just a rationalization that in today's world, the human brain is overoptimized for caution, and thus the reasonable action to take is to accept one's fears and take risks anyway, because the risks are far more recoverable than our animal brains lead us to believe. But REAL optimism - just looking at any given situation and, without engaging logic, immediately snapping to an assumption that things will be fine.

Castenada, I remember, talks about this problem too. He said that a true, fundamental change in who you are as a person happens all at once - it wasn't a rational process that could be controlled, or predicted, or consciously initiated. But at the same time, you could work towards it every day, with every action. An ongoing process of dedication and hard work which sets the stage for spontaneous and uncontrollable change to take place.

The things that seem to help most: sleep, meditation, social connections, working really hard on meaningful goals.

==============================
Today:
Meditate
KBs
Work
Sand Deck, first coat of paint
Hang w/ open relationship girl.

Tomorrow:
Meditate
Board sesh
Work
Paint deck (coat 2)
Paint deck table
Date

[Svadhishthana]

Pretty lazy day today. Just super tired - couldn't get out of bed until almost noon, even though I went to sleep at a good time last night. Indication I need to be more consistent with sleep and meditation.

But am almost done with sanding the deck. Unfortunately, won't finish that until tomorrow, since I have a tour soon, and then a date after.

Tomorrow OR girl is coming over to mine to practice some climbing stuff, then I'm taking her out Sunday. I realize I'm massively breaking the once-per-week rule, but I'll be gone at the end of next week anyway. Worst case scenario, I don't retain her. Best case scenario, she develops an emotional connection that will keep her coming back when I'm in town.

[Svadhishthana]

Had a date last night. Thought she'd flaked for most of the day, since she didn't respond to my confirmation text in the morning. Then mid afternoon she responds, apologizes for not responding earlier (apparently she was just glued to her computer screen) and says she's still down. Our previous convos was super flirty and indicated she was subby, and the trend continues. Around 7 she asks if we can push the date back 15 min since errands are taking longer than usual - sure np. I show up, she shows up a few minutes later, dressed up sexy. She's amicable at first, but not particularly flirty, but emboldened by her texts I heavily lay on the physical touch and lead her around. We get a couple drinks and talk a bit - I'm fighting my natural urge to clam up or go into platonic robot mode, instead going for a few teases and compliments. After the first drink, she still doesn't seem to really be leaning in, so I back off on the physical touch and lean back a little. Almost immediately, she starts getting more engaged in the conversation, turns towards me, starts gesturing with her hands so they "accidentally" touch me, making eye contact. We get another round and start kissing - as we keep going, she seems to get more enthusiastic.

But then she mentions - she has a time limit and needs to leave soon because (weirdest excuse ever) her dog is on its period. I tease her a bit and say I'm gonna do my best to tempt her, and say we should go somewhere more private before she leaves. She says she can't because she knows if she did, then she would *definitely* stay. So I walk her to her car, make out a little more, and she leaves.

Sent her a joke-y text a bit after the date, but as of this morning, no response.

Very strange. She was alternatively giving off enthusiastic and uninterested vibes the whole time. As of right now, I'll assume she was actually interested in fucking me, but was a bit nervous at first, actually did need to go home to take care of her responsibilities, and has simply not checked her phone yet.

OR girl is coming over later today, so I'm considering tying her up and snapping a (tasteful) picture to send to my date last night as a swing for the fences move.

Today:
Meditate
Work
Sand + paint Deck
Plan climbing tomorrow
Hang w/ OR girl
Print sign for Airbnb
KBs

[Svadhishthana]

Yesterday, went on an alpine scramble with my tenants. Fun group activity with a bit of danger and suffering - helps solidify bonds among people in the house. The more they like each other, the less likely they are to want to move out. Also, great opportunity to snap group action shots, which I can put in future ads when trying to fill rooms. As a landlord, the primary value I provide is a roof that doesn't leak for a price that's affordable - but the niche I fill is providing a fun, positive community for newcomers to the city to hook into. The more I can build and advertise these good vibes, the easier it is to fill rooms with other people who will keep the good vibes going.

The whole trip included about 8 miles of hiking and a fair bit of elevation gain and loss, tagging a couple summits at 14k ft. By the end of the day, everyone was pretty beat, and I had a couple beers. Crashed in bed last night exhausted - but woke up this morning feeling surprisingly good. A knot in my upper back I've been dealing with for a few weeks now has loosened up, and I feel rested despite drinking, having garbage sleep the night before, and having a long strenuous day.


I've actually long held a theory that easy, steady-state cardio is one of the keys to good health, but have ignored actually implementing my own advice. Partly because of a number of lower body injuries I've accumulated over the years, and partly because it is simply so time consuming. One more thing to do in retirement.

Today, going on a climb with OR girl. Hoping to send a pitch that's been a goal of mine for... fuck, years now.

This next week will be busy. Wrapping up friggin everything at my houses, packing to head out to climb walls. Some of my coworkers are giving me a retirement party at the bar on Friday, then I'm leading a canyoneering trip to Utah with tenants and friends that weekend. Then they'll turn back to Denver, and I'll keep going west - though not too quickly, I think. I believe I will find a nice spot in the desert before continuing to center myself and communicate with some mycological friends I have.

[Svadhishthana]

Hung with some friends Sunday after climbing w/ OR girl. Got way too drunk on tequila, which basically blew up my whole Monday.

Back at it today. Only a few more days until I'm free.

[Svadhishthana]

Yesterday took care of some chores. Lots of those these days. Then it took a bit of an exciting turn when my friend got a text that his girlfriend (one of my tenants) was now stuck on a multipitch in a canyon near town and needed rescue. So, went and hiked a 400' climb at midnight to free their stuck rope. Not hard, but it was kinda fun to play hero. Otoh, pretty tired today because of it.

Today, more chores. Gonna go to sleep early tonight.

[Svadhishthana]

It's been a hot second.

This update comes to you in three parts. Before, during and after, and going forward.

Part 1: Before

I did it. I quit my job at the end of August. I used ChatGPT to write a letter of resignation since I really couldn't be bothered to do it myself. I cleaned it up to get it ready. Then in my one on one with my supervisor, I told him I was retiring, and sent the letter in. On my last day of work, I fucked around in the morning and I think maybe I sent a few emails and slack messages to people congratulating me. That afternoon, I drove to the office - that unbearably indistinguishable office building, surrounded by strip malls and parking lots, full of fluorescent lights and grey cubical walls. The place where I'd blare the music in my headphones to drown out my coworkers inane babblings about their kids or "the game". Where I would arrive bleak and bleary eyed every morning, sucking down 20 cups of coffee each day to stay sane. Where I would stare at a computer screen for hours, my head feeling like it was in a vice, cursing myself and God for putting me in such a hell as purgatory where I can't even pity myself for my bad fortune. I dropped off my laptop, and headed to the bar next door where my coworkers were gathering to send me off. One last chore. One last charade of fake smiles and handshakes and pretending like I give a shit.

As expected, it was terrible - but some 13% beers and hyper processed food took the edge off. I told them a few secrets. How I'd been buying properties to create passive income. How I'd been planning to do this since before I even graduated college. But I didn't tell them anything truly revealing, like how I thought they were all boring, uninteresting chumps, and I couldn't believe that they could bear to keep living the way they did. Partly, of course, because it wasn't true - a good number of them were actually very intelligent and interesting people who I might have been good friends with under other circumstances. I collected their phone numbers with promises to keep in touch, knowing full well I would never talk to any of them again.

Eight years before as a college senior - horrified at the prospect that I might end up unemployed upon graduation - I'd gone into the CEO's office, looked him dead in the eyes, and lied, telling him I wanted to work at his company and would work hard to succeed. On that day at the end of August, as I stood up to leave the bar, I repeated the trick one last time - I looked him dead in the eye and lied again, telling him I had enjoyed working for him and I appreciated the opportunity he'd given me. Then I walked out of my bar more than a little tipsy, got in my car, and drove away towards the setting sun.

Do the dirt.

Walk away.

Don't say shit.

My car was packed and ready to go. My brain was in a vice. Scared, I suppose, at the prospect of its newfound freedom. So I tried to give my brain space, driving in silence. When I could muster the effort, I would think of nothing, doing nothing, except feeling the unending pressure on the inside of my skull and the pinching of the muscles around my nose and eyes. But mostly, I stared into the vast expanse of the desert as A Horse With No Name ran on repeat in my head.

I made good time over Vail Pass, through Grand Junction, and into Utah. I stopped in Green River for gas, and pulled off the interstate past the San Raf Swell, making camp on some lonely desert dirt road with nothing around but sand and scrub oak.

The next day in Salina, I gassed up. Stretching my new freedom, I parked in front of the Maverik convenience store and set up my camp stove on the trunk of my car, making myself a nice meal of coffee and breakfast burritos. Bed headed and barefoot, I watched local Mormon blue collar types and respectable middle American vacationers mill about - and they watched me, the dirty, weird degenerate using their nice wholesome gas station parking lot as his personal kitchen. It felt good. Not as good as drinking outside the Dollar General. But still good.

Full on food, gas, water, and tire pressure, I made another happy decision and told Google maps to avoid highways. As I rolled out of Salina, I followed all posted speed limits, taking great joy in - seemingly for the first time in my life - seeing my current speed in Google maps display in black instead of red. What's the rush? I had time now.

The Nevada desert stretched on and on. In Great Basin National Park, I disposed of my supply of mushrooms at the base of a great gnarled ponderosa snag, with wicked branches that turned to evil fingers and a forest floor which turned to thousands of snakes. Some time later, I tucked into an unknown wash in an unknown mountain range, and took one of the most enjoyable bathes of my life, splashing ice cold snow runoff across my body in a location so undisturbed that even the breezes seemed lonely. Sand, scrub brush, the periodic mountain range and tiny scrappy desert town. On and on.

==========================

I reach up as high as I can and shove a #0 Z4 - the smallest cam I have - into the top of a crumbling pin scar in the rock. The sun beats down on my back behind me. Heat radiates out from the rock in front of me. My sun hoody is stiff with rehydrated sweat, while my underwear feels uncomfortably grimy after my learning experience taking a shit in a bag while dangling in my harness 600' off the ground. Lesson learned - bring extra TP. I clip my ladder to the cam above me and stomp on the ladder a few times. The cam holds. I shift my weight onto the cam, off the camhook I'd been standing on before, cleaning the camhook behind me and walking up the ladder. Walking up as high as I can, I can barely reach the next pin scar - even worse and more flared than the last. Fear clenching my throat, I reach for my black Totem cam - renowned among climbers for their superior ability to fit flared placements and beloved as everyone's favorite piece to place when scared. And I am scared now. I'm alone on this wall. I've seen no one since I left the ground the morning before, and have no one holding the end of my rope. Of course, I'm still tied in... But a bad fall. A broken leg.... I try not to think about it as I reach up and wiggle the black Totem around, trying to seat it well until it seems to hold decently. I clip my ladder to it, and bounce the ladder a few times with my foot before it rips out of place - shit! The sudden change in force shock loades the #0 I'm standing on, and I hear a loud metallic PING as it pulls out of its placement as well. My shoes stick to the rock momentarily while my center of mass falls outwards, sending me rocketing head first down the cliff. As I fall, the shock of my piece pulling subsides in a split second before my fear of falling engages. My fear of falling normalizes as my fall continues, and my brain curiously wonders how much longer I will continue accelerating through the air before my belay device engages and my rope catches me. Fractions of a second feel like days as I become increasingly panicked - my belay device isn't catching! My rope has been chopped! One of my knots must have failed! "Fuck, I'm gonna die" floods my mind just as my belay my device engages and the rope regains tension. My fall decelerates as the giant rubber band of rope elongates, and my feet fall down past my head, completing the backflip I'd started 50 feet higher up the wall.

I reorient myself in my harness and gasp for breath as my adrenaline starts to recede. The beefy 10mm rope I'm dangling from looks thin as dental floss now, and I can barely believe it held - despite the thousands of R&D and QA hours spent ensuring it would be able to hold a pickup truck comfortably. I briefly wish I could be somewhere cool, close to the ground, with abundant water and snacks, but I shake the thought from my mind. I'm dangling in space 600' up a granite cliff, alone. Shut the fuck up and get to work. I slap a jumar on the rope above me and start jugging up to bolt that caught my fall, and repeat the moves. Camhook, reach high. #0 Z4, reach high. Bad pin scar.... This time I reach for my offset cams - specifically designed for these sorts of flaring pin scars. The #.3/.2 seems to fit, but isn't in deep enough, so I try the #.2/.1 . I shove it in deep. Deeper. Deeper. C'mon motherfucker, deeper! The small side of the cam is completely buried, and the larger side looks well placed on the outside of the flare. I yard on it with my hand a few times. Bounce my foot on the ladder. Then stop on the ladder, trying as hard as I can to pull it out. It stays. I'm nervously optimistic as I shift my weight onto the offset cam and begin climbing the ladder. My waist is even with it. Just one more step up and I'll be able to clip the fixed pin above me, regaining a touch of security. Just one more ste -

FUCK! I scream as the offset cam rips. I hear the distinctive PING! of the #0 pulling out of the wall again, this time hurtling through the air sideways. Now as I fall, I am more gripped by frustration than fear - I'm gonna have to make those moves *again*! "This is taking too much time!" I scream in my head as I wait for my belay device to engage. When it does, my body is slammed sideways into my harness and I let out a loud grunt as it punches me in the side of the belly before my rope swings me back into the wall, bashing my shoulder against the rock. I reorient myself again, dangling in space, and pant. I barely have the energy to keep myself upright, it seems. I lean forward against the rope as fatigue overtakes me. My vision starts to dim. I panic as I realize I'm blacking out. Adrenaline plus dehydration. "I have to get back to camp..." I think, remembering my portaledge and haul bag sixty feet below me and 40 feet to my left, stocked with a meager ration of food and water. I start jugging the line, slowly, keeping my heart rate in check. By the time I reach the bolt again, the adrenaline has receded. I don't feel close to fainting anymore. Camp, safety, entices me. But I'm already behind schedule. The day is only getting hotter, and I know that descending now would put me so far behind schedule that I would have to scuttle the whole mission.

But I can't fall again. I know if I fall again, get hit with that adrenaline kick again, I could pass out dangling from the end of my rope. And who knows what happens then. I start climbing again I remember Mark Twight, fueled by rage and ambition and masochism, and begin chanting to myself as the sun beats down and adrenaline starts pumping thick blood through my veins.

This is what you want, this is what you get.
This is what you want, this is what you get.
This is what you want, this is what you get.
This is what you want, this is what you get.

Cam hook.

This is what you want.

Reach high.

This is what you get.

#0

This is what you want.

Reach high.

This is what you get.

No more fucking around. Nut up or shut up. Stop wishing for security where there isn't any. I whip out the cam hooks again, and slot one in the pin scar. It looks awkward. The angles look weird. I tell myself that this is when cam hooks excell. I gently pull down on it. It stays. Maintaining some tension so it doesn't just fall out of the crack, I bounce it with my foot a few times. It stays. I ooze my weight onto the camhook.

This is what you want, this is what you get.

My heart pounds as I climb the ladder.

This is what you want, this is what you get.

My waist is even with the cam hook. I reach up to clip the fixed pin, but it is just out or reach... Fuuuuuck! Fuck! One more step.

This is what you want, this is what you get.

I take a step up and balance precariously in the ladder as I reach up and left towards the pin. "Don't fall over. Don't fucking fall over." I think as I reach out towards the pin. "C'mon. C'mon. C'mon."

I clip the pin and sink into the secure embrace of a rusty piece of iron as relief washes over me. The sun beats down.

The next day, cursing and struggling, low on food and completely out of water, I wrestle my haul bag up the final 4th class pitch. My situation is a bit grim. I'm significantly dehydrated, the sun is setting, and I have 1000' of chossy, exposed, dangerous scrambling to do down North Dome Gully if I want the prescious water and shelter in the valley below. But there is no need to rush. A few minutes of rest won't make it any darker, or make me more dehydrated or exhausted. I sit down on a rock and watch purple, red, and gold hues splash across Yosemite Valley below, savoring, for a moment, my accomplishment. My first big wall. I solo'ed The Prow of Washington Column.

============================

I sit down on my backpack in San Juan airport, lean back against a stainless steel support column, and let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank fucking God" I say to myself as I look forward, for the first time in my life, to sitting on in a cramped airplane seat for several hours.

I've just spent a couple weeks travelling around Puerto Rico with several friends - roaming around the beaches, eating the local food, occasionally climbing some rocks, swimming beneath remote waterfalls, walking through historic colonial towns, and drinking a lot of mojitos. On paper, a fantastic and memorable trip. In reality - a shit show. The obvious source of frustration is my friends on the trip - one endlessly bickering couple and another girl who feels the constant need to nag and criticize. Being stuck with them in a single car and sharing bedrooms in Airbnb has had me counting down the minutes until the trip is over and I can catch my flight. This is the second such trip I've had in two months. The first was a climbing trip to Greece. The dynamic there was far better - but my aggravation was there as well.

I close my eyes for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of being alone in a crowded airport before I sit up and start writing my thoughts out on my phone. I'm fucking retired, travelling the world to beautiful tropical destinations - why am I a miserable sack of shit?

Answers to this question have been turning over in my head for the past two weeks. By now, they are obvious - the problem is that I didn't actually want to go on these trips. I was hesitant from the start, and was egged on by the friends planning them. I rationalized that they would be "fun" and that I wouldn't want to miss out - but my heart wasn't in it. I bought my plane ticket, then threw my bag together the night before and got on the plane - that was the extent of my interest beforehand. Thus, on arrival I had no idea what was going on or what the plan was, and thus, had no ability to say what I wanted or to influence the itinerary. Having no say, then, I felt like I had no control - always immensely frustrating.

But beyond that, my mind felt torn. Torn between - on one hand - chasing after big, distant, challenging objectives requiring lots of building and legwork - and on the other - decompressing, relaxing, re-evaluating, and more or less doing absolutely nothing to ground myself after a huge life shift. And either of those options would have been fine. But instead, here I am stuck in the middle - running around chasing piddling little objectives and "relaxing" by guzzling ouzo or gaseolina and waking up every morning hungover. No wonder I spent so much time on these trips hammering away on Duolingo, doing pushups and pistols, and reading technical manuals on Texas Holdem - anything to feel like I'm actually improving myself instead of running in place, wasting the freedom I'd just earned myself.

I resolve to stop doing things and going places just because others are egging me. Only do things I have a personal motivation to do.

============================

Mexico. Finally. This is what I really want - a destination where I can live on my own time and chill the fuck out. Somewhere where I can dispense with all the faffery of figuring out logistics and just start hammering away on my objectives.

I start sleeping better and eating better, and begin meditating for 2+ hours each day. But I'm still feeling rather depressed and unmotivated to actually do anything. I notice my lack of motivation and am unhappy with it. Am I not letting my life slip away, after I fought so hard to gain my freedom? On the other hand, what is freedom if I must constantly browbeat myself into action?

I chalk up part of my malaise to just pure exhaustion. The accumulated fatigue of stress for so many years. I've noticed this before in myself - when a constant pressure in some way is released, my brain feels safe enough to give me the full brunt of the pain. When I drink too much and don't sleep, I get sick when I sober up. When I work too much and am stressed, I get a kink in my back once the work is done. When I've been overtraining, my joints ache harder when I back off. Here, perhaps, it is the same. I've been suppressing this malaise for years, since my mind and body knew I still had work yet to complete. Now in the lull, it puts me on my ass to force recovery.

It is also, perhaps, the depression which comes on after the accomplishment of a large goal. Without such an important task to focus on, my life has less meaning and motivation. And without needing to carve out time for other things, those other things are similarly less appealing.

But in a bigger picture, I think the root here is deeper. I have, all my life, been driven by the stick. And, defiant little shit that I am, I was often struck by it. My life has been defined by running away from my beatings, or else by taking them, transforming the pain into rage, and the rage into action. The carrot, on the other hand, has played a relatively small role in my motivation. Surely this is part just human nature - evolution ensures we will always be more motivated by pain than pleasure. But for me now, I have removed most of the sticks in my life, and thus have removed my motivation for action. I could, of course, simply create more sticks... But this seems silly, and would likely make me roll my eyes in frustration with myself - not only would I feel the thumb screws tightening, but I would know that it is only myself doing it.

And besides that, I am tired of this kind of motivation. I think think I've written about this before, so pardon my winging - but I want to be more motivated by the potential to have more positive emotions, rather than by trying to avoid negative ones.

And so, after my trip to Puerto Rico, I wrote a journal entry, where I noted that what I really wanted to do with my life now that I was retired was to stop living in fear, and I outlined 4 insecurities which held me back the most.

- Social Insecurity, which I broke down into 4 subcategories:
-- Meeting people - in any given situation, just walking up and saying hello and starting a conversation.
-- Being unfiltered - saying what I feel at any given time, including angers, frustrations, insecurities, or ambitions.
-- Nonverbal expression - the way I dress or present myself, dancing.
-- Sexuality - talking about sex, sexual desires, and sexual experiences with other people.
- Physical Insecurity, which is mostly about fear of physical pain due to the many overuse injuries I have had - most of which I now believe to have been mostly psychosomatic.
- Financial Insecurity - even though I am retired and have a good safety net, I still am constantly anxious about finances and running out of money. True financial security would come from feeling like I could quickly and easily find tolerable work that I could use to weather any potential financial hardship.
- Sexual Insecurity - I'm still always very nervous on first dates from online, and nervous making moves. I'm worried about my future as I get older, and the potential of missing out while I have the chance now. And I'm still terrified of making moves on women who I haven't matched with online (since online lets me break the expressing-sexual-interest barrier without being face to face).

Of course, wanting to be free from these insecurities poses an interesting question - am I still running away? Is this just another manifestation of escaping the stick? Maybe... But it seems obvious enough that it is probably worth pursuing purely for the experience.

[Zug]

And besides that, I am tired of this kind of motivation. I think think I've written about this before, so pardon my winging - but I want to be more motivated by the potential to have more positive emotions, rather than by trying to avoid negative ones.

Not to be Debby Downer, but I'm not sure this is actually within the real of possible for most people. Maybe there are some ascended humans that are capable of this.

Speaking for myself: Both negative and positive reinforcement > negative reinforcement > positive reinforcement

The only positive reinforcement only method that really gets me moving is Momentum. Building it and maintaining it, creating streaks, getting off on the streaks in a nerdy way. Still don't think it compares to negative reinforcement though..

[Wnyhg]

You’re in a funk like I was.

Motivation>habits. Reinforcements, failures, “successes” are all self demonizing no matter how you swing it.

I prefer the grind, taking baby steps and if there was a book that I know will address what you are facing it is “The Slight Edge”, by Jeff Olson.

KYIL podcasts most recent two are also relevant.

When you’re older like we are. A lot of things are more difficult to come by. Sometimes you need to move, get more involved with the one your married to or your base instinct and touch base with those who matter. Like your parents.

Be kind to others and be kind to yourself. I’m 50+ and squat 215. I’m getting ready to start rock climbing and I MTB when I get the chance. Get out there and get out of your head. I’ve no business in the gym looking the way I do, I’m at the level of an autist given the hits I’ve taken.

What is your goal five years from now? How are you planning to attain that goal post? Ravi asked me that question, btw.

You need an arc like Francis Ngannou and not Tony Hsieh.

I would add stop drinking. Eating crap. I would read some of the articles on Kyil Andy mentions using LSD. That’s not what I used but it worked wonders.

Take it one step at a time. Get therapy if you think it’ll help. It’s a numbers game no matter how you look at it with friendships and honestly I had to really put myself out there and now have only 1 dude that is my confidante. Out of hundreds.

For what it’s worth.

[Svadhishthana]

Not to be Debby Downer, but I'm not sure this is actually within the real of possible for most people.

What's the point of living if you don't think you can do the impossible?

But more seriously - I think that actual potential motivation levels will always be maximized by pain. No matter how fast you might run for fortune and glory, you'll run faster with a grizzly bear on your heels.

But I'm talking about something different. I'm talking about getting my brain to think "get out of bed because there's so much kickass shit to do today! The world is full of important lessons and growth and new experiences" instead of "get out of bed you lazy piece of shit - you need to take care of shit or your whole life will collapse and you'll go to your grave regretting every decision you ever made." And I mean, I kind of really hope that is possible, and it seems a lot healthier in the long run. So... imma give it a shot.

@Wnyhg Lots of suggestions in there, and I appreciate them. I'll start looking into a few of them. But I have a lot rattling around in my head first that I want to get out before diving into them.