Don’t enjoy things

As I often am, I was pinned down last night (by canines) into various constellation shapes, like maybe the Leo constellation where the chihuahua represents the star Regulus, or maybe like an awkwardly mounted insect, so once again I spent long periods spinning useless thoughts that led to other useless thoughts.

This was triggered at least in part by reading some quasi-scientific ‘your mind creates reality’ book that I really fought sentence by sentence right before I retired for the night. It’s an attractive idea, but in this book, laughable sophistry after sophistry just killed my ability to suspend my current limiting beliefs and just follow along. Stuff like “The brain clearly isn’t the source of thought because if you cut it out of the head, it doesn’t think any longer, therefore, thoughts can’t possibly ever come from a brain, and if thoughts don’t emanate from disembodied brains, then where do they really come from?” I mean, it’s actually kind of a fun game, like “Nothing is actually alive, because if you kill something then it’s not alive any more, so was it ever truly alive?” or, “Eggs can’t contain cholesterol because if you crack open an egg and look inside, all the egg goo falls out and it’s actually empty, so where’s your cholesterol now, sucka?”

Anyway, somehow I got on the badly-interpreted-sort-of-Buddhist idea that maybe the secret to happiness is to not ever enjoy things because things you enjoy can be taken from you. Like, say you really like exercise, but then you land in a Turkish prison, and between whatever things they do to you in a Turkish prison, you’re like, “You think I could maybe go do some cardio for ten minutes? I’ve got kind of a routine,” and they’re like “Nah,” and then you’re really disappointed, and why would you want someone to have that power over you? I mean, exercise if you want to, but just don’t enjoy it.

Or maybe you really like coffee, but then you land in a Turkish prison and in between whatever things they do to you in a Turkish prison, they offer you Turkish coffee instead of regular coffee, and you’re not even sure you like Turkish coffee (even though you probably would if you’d just try it) and you might be really disappointed, and why would you want someone to have that kind of power over you? (But if this actually happens, seriously just try the Turkish coffee. What have you got to lose? I mean, I personally like Turkish coffee and would be anything but disappointed if that’s what I was offered while I was in a Turkish prison.)

Then I asked myself, why, specifically Turkish prisons? What do you even know about them? I remembered there was probably a joke in Airplane II or something and that clearly hinted that it was a less than desirable institution to be in, but maybe that was a Turkish bath house and not a prison, and some people probably like the Turkish bath houses that I also don’t know much about other than jokes from Airplane movies, and anyway why not just consider “prison” instead of “Turkish prison” especially since any prison sounds not-good. Plus, I have only met really nice people from the country of Turkey, and none of them imprisoned me. Or bathed me. But maybe that’s it! The secret to happiness might be mostly staying out of prison, Turkish or otherwise. And since I’m not in prison, I’m probably already a happy person. Dipso facto, lorem ipsum.

And it goes on like that for a while. As usual.

(Tired. Maybe the secret to being happy is getting enough sleep sometimes. But I need to research further.)