The fact that a man who goes his own way ends in ruin means nothing ... He must obey his own law, as if it were a daemon whispering to him of new and wonderful paths ...
There are not a few who are called awake by the summons of the voice, whereupon they are at once set apart from the others, feeling themselves confronted with a problem about which the others know nothing.
In most cases it is impossible to explain to the others what has happened, for any understanding is walled off by impenetrable prejudices. "You are no different from anybody else," they will chorus or, "there's no such thing," and even if there is such a thing, it is immediately branded as "morbid"...
He is at once set apart and isolated, as he has resolved to obey the law that commands him from within. "His own law!" everybody will cry.
But he knows better: it is the law.
The only meaningful life is a life that strives for the individual realization — absolute and unconditional— of its own particular law... To the extent that a man is untrue to the law of his being ... he has failed to realize his own life's meaning.
Truth only those living life on their own terms, will understand. If you are the prejudiced, you are confused
I feel I've lived this life, thrown it away, fed it, stored it, bought it, tried to keep it, changed it, made it, studied it, and tried to manipulate it. All for nothing but a lesson in finding my own heart and aligning my mind to that still small voice within each of us. Often wondering if it's the same in others as it is in me. Why do they act and speak as they do if the voice is different? Why do I seem to stand out when others beg me not to. The entire process of living contains this search for personal alignment while being surrounded by people trying to do the same. It really is inherently selfish. I've been called everything and schizophrenic by those who don't know and including them. This journey we all walk never seems to end, yet it is well worth the endlessly painful endeavors those who are chosen follow. We're all chosen, yet our time is never known. When it comes knocking, you cannot keep the door shut. Nobody leaves, nobody listens, nobody takes suggestion, nobody abides by your selfish rule of the vessel it came to you in. It pushes and beats and hammers until every single wall you have falls by the wayside and what's left is purely you. The hardest part, is becoming the person you always knew you were despite the opposition, which, painfully, was you the entire time. When you start letting those voices make decisions instead of fighting or changing or attempting to kill, or push, or pull, or sway, you're not giving up control. You're leading yourself through them. Agreeing with the commands of your heart, once you know they are there, is beyond this world.