What is power? Most people view it as the means to get what they want. Their interest is not in the will to attain something, but in the having. Babies need milk, and they cry to get it. Is there a difference in the average man? -Intellectual Shaman
I was searching for power. As I discovered it, I wanted more of it. It was a limitless feeling. It was freedom to act in the world, any way that I wished.
Nobody I knew had power. Some thought they had it, but they were slaves. They managed other people, and felt big because of the numbers in their bank account, but if you asked them if they could leave it all behind, the answer was “No.”
“No.” Power is the ability to want what others don’t want.
I wanted to live, so that my experiences were my only wealth. The pursuit of things, made one predictable—controllable. I wanted to overcome myself.
My understanding of power came from the invisible world. I began to focus on what I couldn’t touch. I controlled my thoughts. I searched for what my imagination wanted, and that was for a higher being to open my perspective. Things started to happen, when I drove home from work.
There were these white signs along the road. Someone put them there, to encourage the average man, in his drudgery.
You got this!
Usually, my cynical sarcasm laughed, but this time the signs said something different.
The end is near.
Was it a warning?
I was looking for answers and finding them. Was it confirmation bias, or something else? The signs kept speaking to me, and I kept paying attention.
To know yourself, you must inhabit other bodies.
Were the signs suggesting empathy?
As a man gets older, and remains by himself—he becomes increasingly weird, and I had always wondered about those weird lives, like the 45-year-old man shooting baskets at the gym with long hair and a beard, and a pot belly and hairy arms. There was no point. I wanted to know why he did it. When did he break from being normal? Most people are trying to climb an invisible stratum. Status is a social currency. It separates people, until their friends talk about what they talk about, and the strange ones become stranger. I wanted to know them. And I was looking for a way.
That’s when the signs spoke to me.
I didn’t even think. I turned. It was a regular day, with regular weather, but it was about to become irregular. Would I get arrested for trespassing?
I walked to the door and looked through the house. It was transparent glass, so that I could see into the backyard. Green grass flowed to a blue lake with a dock out back. There was a fire, and strange people sitting by it.
I walked around the estate, and spoke to them.
“Are you the ones who make the signs?”
“Yes,” they said.
“How can I get greater power?”
“Trade places with us.”
“It’s not in the how, but in the what.”
“You guessed it.” Then I saw myself sitting around the campfire, and I was the basketball man with the beard and the long hair, shooting hoops alone. His mind was a revelation. You can travel the world or you can get to know people. There are mini-malls and suburban wives, but there are also men with beards who live in the mountains where few people visit.
I recommend talking to the few.