What You Don’t See
The problem with psychiatric diseases is that it’s about what you see.
You don’t see what you don’t see.
You don’t see all the hugs that prevent depression.
You don’t see all the conversations that prevent anxiety.
You don’t see ordinary people helping someone unintentionally out of a psychosis—simply by coping the way they do, by how they approach life.
Ninety-nine percent of psychiatric disease is already prevented—quietly, invisibly.
The best way to get out of any psychiatric illness is to surround yourself with normal people (as far as that exists). Copy the things they do well.
It’s this invisible herd that guides the rest to the other side. Everybody makes tons of mistakes. That’s normal. Everybody loses their mind sometimes. That’s normal.
So look out for each other a little bit.
Things are going well, you say?
Now you turn off your phone. After a few weeks, the mist in your head is gone. Suddenly, there is optimism. You’re no longer bombarded with dark things—the news, the noise. You can focus again. Your anxiety is gone. You see the sunset, other people. You start to read. You smile on the inside.
Do you know this situation?
You’re talking to someone about work. The other person has a problem.
You say, “I would do this or that.”
Then the other person responds, “Yes, but it’s a 32-year-old man who likes…,” and gradually more and more information is added, making the decision increasingly difficult and nuanced.
This happens often. Everything seems binary when you look at it superficially, but the more specific information you have, the harder it becomes—and the more you understand each other.
You have two kinds of time:
• Moving time (it goes in cycles, like the seasons).
• Snapshots (here, time is perspective).
I live in the Netherlands. If someone in Australia and I look at the sky at the same moment, one of us sees light and the other sees darkness. So time is perspective — a fixed point.
Everything therefore always happens at the same moment (time is a matter of perspective). And it moves cyclically through time (like the seasons). Both exist side by side.
Something that moves and yet stands still at the same time.
Does that sound familiar to you?
Compression
Imagine I take the whole of reality and place it into a roulette wheel.
Does that mean reality is statistical? No—it only appears that way because of the layer you’ve placed over it.
Randomness does not exist. It only looks like randomness.
There is nothing 50/50 about flipping a fair coin. You have reduced reality to something binary.
Reality is everything.
"I think statistics are the same as numbers: they are patterns you see in a series of events. If you think beforehand that a fair coin has a 50/50 chance, that is right at that moment, within the options you have created. But as soon as you flip the coin, anything can happen: a meteorite could hit, so the coin never even lands. It is important to realize that both views are correct: the chance is 50/50, but there is also always an extra probability involved.
Looking backwards in time, something can be 50/50, but even then, that is only within the possibilities you observe or determine."
How to move from ten dimensions to the nil state
You have to remove singular dimensions.
For instance: you fully feel all your pain. You have dealt with all your thoughts.
By slowly removing dimensions, the stack gets lower, and you reach the nil state—the heavenly state.
I have never really been comfortable removing the last dimension, so I always play it a bit on the safe side. I don’t know why.