Is it possible to be in charge of one’s self; One’s inner world? Where are people free from the bullshit of their own bullshit? Or is it something that would never appear that way? Something by virtue of being affirmed becomes a negation. Like the story I was told twenty-five years ago by a guy who was a member of a secret Ouspensky group. The thrust of their work mostly a mantra “remember yourself” possibly a way of returning to an enlightened state, experiencing the nowness of life as opposed to the ordinary fantasy people walk around with – that they have the winning numbers on their latest lottery ticket.

In the secretive Ouspensky group story a guy dies who was a follower of that philosophy and he’s offered the opportunity to enter heaven but the devil asks St. Peter if he can ask him just one question. Then the devil asks him “did you remember yourself?” to which the dude responds yes. Promptly the devil says “He’s mine!” and whisks him away. They were always very impressed with themselves when they told that story and they told it a bunch but I don’t think it is as good as the Zen master falling from the cliff story who while falling to his death remarks about the taste of the strawberry he’s eating, “delicious”.