10 · Two Radio Stations

Something changed inside of me when I started to realise that not all of the thoughts I hear inside me are mine. There is a reason for the expression "the voices inside my head." That's what they are — voices. They are not yours. One voice is from the devil. Another voice is from God. And you always know which one is from God. That voice telling you this is impossible, this is too much, this is unbearable: calmly listen, but don't succumb. See it as what it is — a mere voice. You are not the thoughts. You are the space in which they appear.

Maybe the voices inside your head are not yours. There are two speakers, God and Satan, and you might just be the listener.

That voice inside you saying you can't do all of this — recognising it is a skill. I label it a skill because it sits at the starting point of knowing these are not thoughts you must believe; they are fleeting. It's the untapped skill of metacognition. These thoughts come and go. They never stay — sadly, the same goes for motivation. Everyone has them; it's just that some people act only on the tempting thoughts that lure with comfort and safety, while some have mastered the skill of letting the fleeting thoughts pass by, keeping sovereignty over their minds. Right now I have the temptation of lust from the devil, along with manifestations of weak faith — that I can't get into Imperial, that there's no way this can be done. It still stings to let these thoughts pass, because grabbing them and acting them out is such a strong habit.

I can sense my flesh starting to scream at me: just go to bed, do it tomorrow, let it go, just quit — mark it and start fresh tomorrow. But I know this is a silent yet very loud voice inside me that is fleeting. Rule of thumb: the outcries of the flesh are passing clouds. Let them float by. It's not even mental anguish anymore — initially they were painful to resist, but try to watch yourself live, get out of your head and observe, and it becomes clear it's just an internal voice temporarily fogging the spirit. And the point where your flesh starts to resist — THAT is where the work starts to count. This is the test of God. Are you going to impulsively go to bed at the first sign of exhaustion, or will you not stop until what must be done is done? Yes, I am exhausted — but am I really? Don't give power to the mere voice of the flesh.

Being able to execute based on metacognition is a skill in itself. You tend to fold at the first manifestation of lustful thoughts, the first biological signal of exhaustion, the first impulse to listen to music, the first reaction of hunger. You are living your life making decisions based on biological compulsions and calling it fate — just as Jung said: when you fail to make the unconscious conscious, you call it fate. Zoom out of yourself, watch yourself as if watching a stranger, and ask what makes sense for him to do now.

You have to fight for life against that voice that creeps up — no matter how tempting: "this is enough, let me chillax, let me lighten it up, let me clock out." That is the voice pulling you away from the cross that must be carried right now.

Don't build a narrative around what stresses you. You don't need to process stress; you don't need to manage stress. Let it pass; don't hold onto it. Emotions are just weather. They come and go. Let them pass through you and do what must be done, period.