Bitter Success

What is success? 

Why is it important? 

How do you create it? 

When do you hate it?

Apparently to be happy 

Health and abundance 

Are not enough already 

Success seems wanted

So many celebrate success 

With champagne and music 

Wishing more of it to anyone 

We glorify successful beings

But what if this silly celebration 

Is actually a simple transaction? 

What if our naïve worship creates 

The very abusing gods we adore?

I. What We Feed

We often associate 

Success and power 

As if they were both 

Superglued together

Yet we never seem to question 

The invisible economy scheme 

Where attention is our currency 

And admiration feeds empires

It's very funny to observe 

Those who are confused 

About having much power 

But still don't have success

It is even more hilariously ironic 

To contemplate the other nature 

Those who have received success 

But still have no idea what power is

Successful energetic manipulation 

And the real-life power dynamics 

Are two very different concepts 

But, indeed, are interdependent

When you fully understand 

What is the real distinction 

Between energy and power 

You'll know how to succeed

And you actually already know it 

Mentally, emotionally, physically 

However, this kind of knowledge 

Needs to become alive in matter

A fully embodied experience 

Of the truth running through 

Each one of your cells inside 

Exploding in horrifying colors

Knowledge that doesn't yet live 

In your body, is called a rumor 

Knowledge that does live there 

Becomes the exquisite wisdom

This is how the old marketplace thrives 

Selling you back your own sacred truth 

Repackaged as someone else's siddhi 

Priced according to your desperation

The difference is in experience 

Some people think they "know" 

Because some dude on screen 

Has said so very convincingly

We've built entire industries 

Around this borrowed knowing 

Where gurus become marketing 

And awakening becomes product

They have never been themselves 

Exposed to such unique situations 

They also have never met the dude 

Or are not yet sure if he is even real

But they listen to him blindly, so naively 

Because he got the sense of raw power 

So, we take his painful limiting beliefs 

And adopt them as our ultimate truth

We build our inner conditioning 

With very cleverly weird rumors 

Of some desperate technocrats 

Discouraged to be still in power

People who are successful 

Don't understand completely 

Why everyone listens to them 

Obeys even their nonsense

Why their fans become like 

Sad copycats of their image 

Why they want to be similar 

Why they glorify any bullshit

They empower with success 

Those they preach and obey 

Normal people become stars 

Just because you are jealous

Just because you want to become 

Like them, for a mysterious reason 

Just because they inspire you to be 

Something you don't dare to claim

Or it can also be the opposite too 

You might hate and shame them 

Your judgment, cruel criticism 

Has the exact same outcome

No matter the emotion 

Orgasmic, good or ugly 

If emotion is about them 

They receive your energy

You actually empower both 

Those you love and cherish 

And those you hate, despise 

With your own secret source

A source of unlimited energy 

The one that keeps you going 

That one that makes you alive 

Like a magic fountain of bliss

And you, you don't even know 

Where to access what belongs 

Where power runs inside of you 

But you energetically feed them

And so, they become popular 

Successful, rich and powerful 

Mainly thanks to you, your ego 

Thinking too much about them

II. What Feeds On Us

Success is not something 

That you build or construct 

Success comes from feelings 

Other beings project upon you

Community makes you famously known 

Those bizarre strangers decide your fate 

For them to feel something substantial 

About your essence and your container

We can monetize and privatize 

Pretty much anything, anyone 

If they are willing to become 

Energetic wizards, warriors

But what does this training look like? 

Years of learning to eat tasty poison 

Without dying from the raw toxicity 

Of humanity's disowned darkness

Learning to metabolize rage inside

That isn't yours but becomes yours 

Learning to digest shame and fear 

Until it transforms into resources

The curriculum is simple: 

Surrender your boundaries 

Become a human septic tank 

For collective emotional waste

They practice in small groups first 

Taking on intimate family problem 

Then they graduate to communities 

Then nations, then the whole species

If they are willing to be 

The soul that receives 

All the emotional crap 

From suffering beings

This isn't metaphorical poetry 

This is energetic biotechnology 

As real as any other profession 

But operating in naked invisible

Their nervous systems adapt 

To withstand psychic tsunamis 

Their inner hearts learn to expand

Beyond our normal human capacity

They become walking and sovereign portals 

Between conscious and unconscious 

Living bridges that allow others 

To cross without getting wet

If they are willing to accept 

Psychic abuses by masses 

If they have inner capacity 

To be raped in the invisible

Picture ten thousand people 

Projecting their terror onto you 

Simultaneously, without consent 

While you smile and say "thank you"

Picture absorbing the rage, the despair   

Of everyone who's ever felt powerless 

While maintaining enough your sanity 

To transform it into something useful

This is violation beyond the physical 

Penetration without bodies touching

The mass unconscious inserting itself 

Into your most private, intimate spaces

The invasion happens through attention 

Through expectation and hungry demand 

Through the collective need, desperation   

For someone to carry what they can not

Those are the truly perfect candidates 

To become superstars, powerful gurus 

Ignorant beings would preach, pray to 

To empty, give away all their emotions

The selection process is brutal, inexcusable  

Natural selection for the spiritually gifted 

Only those with supernatural capacity 

Survive the energetic bombardment

They don't choose this calling 

The calling chooses, finds them 

Usually through childhood trauma 

That breaks them open very early on

Their wounds become their qualifications 

Their sensitivity becomes their expertise 

Their supreme ability to feel everything 

Becomes their best professional asset

But of course, it's like in therapy 

Or in a church with some priest 

You need to offer some money 

To discharge your unconscious

This is the economic foundation 

Of the emotional recycling industry 

Where qualified, skilled professionals 

Handle what you're too scared to touch

Therapists become emotional janitors 

Priests become disgrace disposal units 

Gurus become vending machines of God

All servicing your clever spiritual laziness

The transaction is usually: 

"Here's my pain, fix it for me" 

"Here's my guilt, absolve it for me" 

"Here's my darkness, enlighten it for me"

Some seem to believe firmly 

That our unconscious is made 

Of shadows, darkness and evil 

So, they are terrified to have it

This is the masterpiece of programming 

Convincing you that your innate depths 

Are fundamentally dangerously foolish

And need urgent professional handling

Centuries of religious conditioning 

Teaching you to fear your own soul 

To believe that what lives inside you 

Is too terrible for you to meet, to love

Our culture profits from this drama  

Entire industries built on your self-fear 

The more you're convinced you're broken 

The more services you'll stupidly purchase

They teach you to hate your anger 

To be ashamed of your sexuality 

To be terrified of your inner power 

To pay others to handle it for you

They pay money to give it elsewhere 

To offer their own essence to others 

They literally enrich and give power 

By offering their souls on the market

This is the most sophisticated theft 

In human history: convincing people 

To voluntarily give away their life force 

While believing they're being helped

You hand over your raw material, wisdom   

The very stuff you're ultimately made of 

Your emotional energy and your attention 

Your authentic responses to life and death

You pay to be emptied 

You pay to be disconnected 

From the source of your own power 

While calling it transformative, "healing"

But it's a very special, unique market 

With negative price tags on emotions 

When you glorify someone too much 

You give them food, and you pay for it

In normal markets, you pay and receive 

In this market, you pay and give 

You pay money for the privilege 

Of feeding someone else your essence

The more you worship your healer 

The more of your power they absorb 

The more you believe they can save you 

The more you save them with your wealth

It's economic vampirism disguised 

As spiritual service and divine care 

Where the currency is our life force 

And the product is our dependency

They get both, your money 

And your precious attention 

They access your innate source 

And you, you become even poorer

Attention is the ultimate gold

More valuable than any currency 

Because attention is consciousness 

And consciousness is what we all are

When you give someone your full attention 

You're literally giving them your core being 

When you think about them constantly 

You're feeding them your innocence

Thus, they become like your gods 

Because they are "filled" with you 

Their success and powerful glory 

Was fed by your painful ignorance

The god-manufacturing process is simple: 

First, convince someone they're broken 

Second, offer to fix them or save them   

Third, collect their worship as payment

The more broken they believe they are 

The more divine you appear to them   

The more helpless they feel inside  

The more powerful you become

Your disowned divinity and dignity   

Becomes their borrowed authority 

Your forgotten innate magnificence 

Becomes their temporary sad glory

And the cruelest or wittiest part of all? 

They start to believe their own hype 

Forgetting they're just holding in love

What others were too scared to claim

Your shames, fears and judgments 

Have funded most of the absurdity 

You invested them just to not sense 

All the hidden about your deep self

But once again, what is still hidden 

Is not always bad, scary, shocking 

Most often than not, we get rid of 

Our own inner gifts, superpowers

When we get rid of deep emotion 

By simply projecting it elsewhere 

Or by blaming someone else for 

Or by believing they can save us

We participate in a wild market 

Of energetic trading exchange 

Where you offer your essence 

Just to better numb and deny

This is the unnamed modern vampirism 

Of our civilization's moral-based design 

Where the successful become parasites 

Feeding on the created unsuccessfulness

The system depends on your forgetting 

That you are the source, not the seeker 

That you are the fountain, not the thirsty 

That you are the whole, not the fragment

Paradoxically, this is also the intelligence 

Of sophisticated trauma mechanisms 

It's when you choose to dim your light 

Simply to experience the wonders of life

But there's a difference, a crucial one 

Between cowardly forgetting in denial   

And the divine game of hide-and-seek 

That consciousness plays with itself

Unconscious forgetting is victimhood 

Conscious forgetting is sacred artistry 

One creates suffering and confusion 

The other creates meaning and ecstasy

Some beings have graduated 

From unintentional amnesia 

For deliberate self-exploration 

Of what it means to be limited

They choose their constraints carefully 

Like an artist choosing their canvas 

They select their wounds precisely 

Like a composer choosing their key

Because omnipotence is actually boring 

When you can do the whole lot instantly 

There's no journey, no true discovery 

No sweet ache of longing fulfilled

The super intelligence behind trauma 

Is similar to designing video games 

Creating obstacles and challenges 

So, victory can taste like something

Without the experience of powerlessness 

How could power be felt as pure ecstasy? 

Without the experience of our separation 

How could reunion explode your reality?

The cosmic irony is that searching

Creates what was never truly lost 

The divine comedy is that finding 

Destroys what was never missing

So, when you understand the game 

You don't stop playing, it’s not over

You just play it more consciously 

With more pleasure, more love

You understand that your forgetting 

Was never a mistake to fix or to slay

It was shared intelligence exploring 

Such exquisite pain of being human

And, after we complain, question 

Why are we so confused and lost 

Why we are so poor, empty inside 

Why them, those others succeed

Them, they literally operate from 

The collective fountain of power 

With the unlimited free energy 

Coming from your ignorance

From your fears 

From your shames 

From your devotions 

From your judgments

Everything you deny or numb 

About who you truly are inside 

Is part of our collective source 

Providing food to the unscared

If you desire to deal with power 

You have no choice but to own 

Your sinfully immoral ugliness 

And your most amazing beauty

You need to be ok and fine 

About being harshly judged 

For everything you represent 

From your future or your past

Your true essence doesn't have 

A black and white segregation 

The unconscious is not moral 

It's either inclusive or it's not

You open or you shutdown 

You welcome or you reject 

You accept it or you fight 

You dare or you run away

You have the ultimate decision 

About the possible boundaries 

Of what you want to be part of 

Of your inner and outer reality

When you exclude a part of you 

You actually can't know for sure 

If it is black, white, both or none 

Your judgment makes you blind

When you say: that's not me 

And this stuff shouldn't exist 

You separate a piece of you 

And you put it in your prison

You create a hidden space 

Where all your exiled parts 

Are burned to rebirth again 

In a hell of your own denial

Of denial or of pure pleasures 

This is a truly tricky question 

How to see the difference 

Between fear and desire

Between life and death 

Salvation and suffering 

Evolution or extinction 

Repulsion or attraction

How do you even know 

That what you are doing 

In this precious moment 

Is a product of your will

Or maybe you always do 

Exactly based on desires 

Every act is your wanting 

Even if you judge, fear it

Maybe you have never lost 

Your power of the Creator 

Maybe no one even tried 

To corrupt or manipulate

III. The Lonely Throne

Maybe you were so bored, sick 

Of playing in an old known movie 

Of being the unlimited potential 

So, you just chose to forget it

You created yourself funny limitations 

Some mysterious challenges to solve 

What is life? Who am I? Why I exist? 

Where am I from and where do I go?

Because if you remembered it all now 

If you knew all these answers for real 

The absurdity of our shared existence 

Would simply make you laugh to death

To be human means to be imperfect 

And this is the most majestic magic 

Of having authentic desires to exist 

Believing there is perfection to find

Because this gives you purpose 

To grow, to evolve, do something 

But when you can do it all already 

When you are perfect, unlimited

When you know it deeply 

You have seen and felt it 

In many raw time-spaces 

Nothing can surprise you

Everything seems shallow 

Unreal, annoyingly boring 

Superficially artificial lives 

Comparing their miseries

Spending their abundance 

Their health, vitality, future 

To protect their scared ego 

From their fears and desires

When you live in a world 

Of such imperfect humans 

Your imagined self-perfection 

Might make you suffer profoundly

This is the untold trauma 

Of the spiritually awakened 

To see the puppet strings clearly 

While others dance unconsciously

To know you could heal them all 

But that healing would destroy 

The very game of our separation 

That gives meaning to existence

To feel the weight of omniscience 

Crushing deeply your human heart 

To know that your inner perfection 

Is the loneliest of possible prisons

This is where you would want 

To forget a bit just to feel less 

To be more little, broken even 

To taste graceful humbleness

This is where you are the one 

To put down your own crown 

To willingly choose to renounce 

Your lonely throne of higher power

This is where you say: nope, I'm done 

When you walk away from your heaven 

Because you don't want to be the one 

Bossing the theater you have created

Omnipresence and omnipotence 

Are disturbing abilities of power 

It's way less cool than you think 

Knowing and feeling everything

If you think it's too stressful 

To manage your simplistic life 

What do you expect to feel inside 

If you were the big boss of humanity

Do you think that power and success 

Makes you immune to fear or shame 

Do you think your wealth or status 

Can make you feel unconditional

If you do, you still don't get it 

You still don't fully understand 

The very clever self-invention 

Of both: you and your reality

You need a mystery to survive 

You need something exciting 

To solve, to fix, to transform 

Something imperfect to love

Separation is mandatory 

Fragmentation is required 

Ultimate wholeness is a lie 

Impossible based on logic

IV. Sacred Collision

Observe our shared Nature 

Get curious about physics 

About chemistry, biology 

Deep space and history

You will see the exact same patterns 

No matter where you look, how, why 

There is something intense that happens 

Like a weird "big bang" that just explodes

And from that mysterious point zero 

Everything seems to simply emerge 

Seemingly from nowhere, out of blue 

Matter, planets, stars, universes, Life

Precise fusion of particles 

Have created an explosion 

Similar to nuclear process 

To provoke fragmentation

Because this division is needed 

To generate novel configurations 

To extract energy, transform matter 

From some particles having "orgasm"

Sometimes from two colliding atoms 

We can generate tremendous potential 

We can even produce unknown particles 

We can alter laws of thermodynamics

The cosmos doesn't ask permission 

To tear apart what seemed stable   

To fuse incompatible elements 

Into something that never existed

What you call your spiritual burnout

Is just nuclear level physics applied 

To the stubborn matter of your ego 

Until new essentials can emerge

Every breakdown is atomic 

Every breakthrough is mixture 

Every moment of transformation 

Is a star exploding deeply inside you

The same principle governs your becoming 

When your inner contradictions collide 

When your light and shadow combine 

New forms of consciousness are born

When complementary forces within you 

Stop fighting for dominance or authority 

And start dancing together with sensuality 

You become the big bang of your own reality

And when this inner fusion happens 

Time itself becomes your plaything 

Past and future collapse together 

Into the eternal now of becoming

The clock becomes almost irrelevant

When you are the one creating time 

When your heartbeat sets the rhythm 

For your dreams spinning into existence

This is why awakening feels timeless 

Why transformation bends physics   

You are not moving through time 

You are time, learning to move

Authentic success is a sacred failure 

It's a complete transcendence of ego 

It's an intense rupture, full breakdown 

Between inner self and outside reality

It's when there is absence of boundaries 

Between what you consider you, your soul 

And the stars far, lost in hidden universes 

And the micro viruses you eat every day

It's where every invisible atom 

Every molecule and every stone 

Every tree, machine or even dust 

Are part of who you ultimately are

It's when you know that you are made 

Of nuclear fusion and untamed love 

Of endless cellular divisions and veils 

Of countless fractals and fragments

If none of your cells had rigid "walls" 

You would be quite "unified" indeed 

Like shapeless ghosts in all there is 

Odorless, invisible and untouchable

You would be like empty void itself 

Deprived of everything in existence 

But simultaneously given impossible 

Access to all unlimitedly wild potentials

You will be like a spoiled child 

That has all the toys he desires 

That can do whatever, anywhere 

But lonely, no one else to play with

No other buddy or a friend 

With whom to argue or to fight 

No enemies to love and to care for 

Just you, by yourself, holy whole, only

Some beings have interesting desires 

They seek legitimate, real immortality 

They want to remain alive and healthy 

Even if and when it means being alone

You can't wait a few minutes in a line 

Without losing your sane patience 

Because you are bored or stressed 

But you're surely dreaming of eternity

Do you remember how long it was for you 

That night your inner heart felt so broken 

How time became your worst nightmare 

How time was abusing your naive sanity

Do you remember how fast it happened 

The moment you were dreaming about 

How years flew by without you noticing 

How stretchy, flexible and unreal time is

Our time is not always a peaceful river 

It's a battlefield of opposing forces 

Where entropy fights emergence 

Where death dances with birth

Every moment is a potential danger zone 

Between what was and what could be 

Every choice is an act of violence 

Against the tyranny of the past

This is the war that matters 

Not the petty human conflicts 

But the cosmic struggle happening 

In every cell, every thought, every breath

You usually have less than one century 

Of lifetime in your usual body costume 

You have no idea how to play with time 

But you still ask to survive, live forever

Even if you are completely frozen 

Even if you are only virtual code 

Stored on a quantum computer 

Even when no one cares for you

But you, you deserve to succeed 

To be alive forever and anywhere 

You are arrogant enough, indeed 

To be entitled to eternal suffering

To watch everything disappear 

Reduced to clean nothingness 

To sit on your glorious throne 

In the desert of dead desires

To bury everything, you once loved 

To be abandoned by ones you trust 

To be betrayed by your own passion 

To feel the truth of your own nature

Those who want all success and power 

No matter the consequences, the cost 

Might have some personal preferences 

For some bitterness, not for sweetness

If you fight just to overpower and win 

If your deep pleasure doesn't come 

From the actual process of the war 

You are a coward, not yet in power

A real warrior doesn't care 

To die or to win in a battle 

Because he is not fighting 

For naive success or pride

He is engaging in raw wars 

For much deeper virtues 

For honor, for integrity 

For dignity, for future

It's not about the end goal 

It's not about final verdict 

It's not even about justice 

It's about walking the path

Because all war is fundamentally erotic 

The penetration of intense resistance 

The submission to greater powers 

The ecstasy of total surrender

Creation itself is wholly orgasmic 

The big bang was cosmic climax 

Every star is result of explosion 

Of energy making love to space

What you think is stupid destruction 

Is actually the universe fucking itself 

Into new forms of grandiose beauty

Through chaos that looks like abuse

It's mainly about real adventures 

About fully experienced tensions 

Not about some trophy or medal 

You might find at the destination

Because transformation is an erotic act 

A raw penetration of consciousness 

By forces too large for the ego 

To contain or to control it

This is about why you fight 

More than about for what 

When you know your why 

How becomes much easier

War is almost like good sex 

There is a seduction game 

After, some intense actions 

And the ultimate culmination

When someone tells you sincerely 

To prefer winning only or to orgasm 

They don't really enjoy the process 

Of sexy foreplay and of love making

Would you be very aroused and wet 

By such proposal to fuck the winner 

The one who desires to come faster 

No matter the pleasures on the path

If someone fucks you just to end it 

Just to destroy your brain or essence 

They are unskilled, unconscious fuckers 

That still don't get what is true love making

But obviously this is not about sex 

Nor about silly wars or even love 

It's about our future coevolution 

It's about having some answers

Nuclear fusion, time hilarious dilation 

Warrior consciousness, erotic energy 

All faces of the same wild, rebel force 

That drives both stars and our hearts

The power that could split atoms 

Is the power that breaks your ego 

The energy that bends spacetime 

Is the energy that opens your soul

You are not separate from all this 

You ARE this creative destruction 

This cosmic powerfulness wearing 

The temporary costume of your name

V. Coming Home

What is power, what is success 

What is winning, what is playing 

What is desire, what is suffering 

What is abuse, what is pleasure

It's about learning and practicing 

It's about not knowing and trying 

It's about making stupid mistakes 

It's about bitterness of perfection

It's about success over care 

It's about reason over logic 

It's about shame over trust 

It's about doing over being

It's about mind over heart 

It's about culture over will 

It's about pride over desire 

It's about choosing our wars

But mostly, it's about coming home 

To the parts of yourself you exiled 

To the power you gave away freely 

To the source you forgot was yours

It's about stopping the endless search 

For gods, for sages, for leaders outside 

When the fountain of unlimited energy 

Has always been your own heartbeat

It's about recognizing your own game 

You've been playing unconsciously 

Feeding others with your life force 

While starving your own essence

Success was never the destination 

Power was never the ultimate prize 

They were just clever distractions 

From true questions that matter

Who are you when no one is observing? 

What remains when your crown drops? 

What lives in the quiet spaces between 

Your inhale and your exhale right now?

The answer isn't in the dirty mirror 

Of someone else's achievements 

The answer isn't in hollow applause 

Of voices that don't know your name

The emerging answer is trembling 

The vulnerable, naked inner truth 

That underneath all your seeking 

Lives something infinitely whole

Something that doesn't need success 

To know its own worth, to be enough 

Something that doesn't desire power 

To change the world with its presence

So here we are, at the fresh ending 

Of this strange, winding confession 

Where bitter success reveals itself 

As the sweetest kind of true failure

The failure to remain separate 

The failure to stay dependable 

The failure to keep pretending 

You're anything less than it all

And if you're still contemplating this 

If you've followed me here this far 

Then you already know the secret 

Lovely hidden in your deepest scars

It was never about them 

It was always about you 

It was never about terror 

It was always about love

Your fear, my love 

Your love, my fear 

The same illusion 

Flowing in us both