The world’s a stage, and all the men merely players.
According to Darwin we are all monkeys. Darwin was right. Tyler Durden from Fight Club then said we are all monkeys waiting to be shot into space. Tyler was right. Tyler Durden from Real Social Dynamics then said that being a dancing monkey is being try-hard. He was selling a purple pill lie.
The truth is that we are all dancing monkeys. People are piqued when I tell them this, as if the notion that you are putting on a show implies that you are not being real, not being yourself. Nonsense.
When I leave my house, I am a dancing monkey, because I know that cooperation/cooperation outcomes require good dancing. I meet people, I dance, they dance, we dance. That is simply the way humans communicate. We don’t know others like we know ourselves, hell, we rarely know ourselves, so we do the next best thing, which is to act out a dancing version of ourselves which communicates to others as effectively as possible who we are. It is show – of course it is show! – because that is what communication requires. Whether or not you consciously experience the need to dance, the end result is the same: you go out in the world, perform your monkey dance, and you reap the results of said dance. You may assign as much meaning to that as you want to, but in the end that is all there is to it. You are just 1 monkey, in a world of 7 billion monkeys. You dance, or someone else will dance on your grave. It is self-deluded pride to think otherwise.
At this point it is important to repeat that being a dancing monkey is a red pill, not a black pill. Our challenge is to turn it into a white pill: make it so we enjoy performing our monkey dance. Dancing is meant to be fun, after all. I enjoy my dancing, am as relaxed in my dancing as I can be (I rarely completely relax, because Gnon punishes unguarded relaxation), and as a result I enjoy my life.
By the way, what’s the last time you literally danced? Should be at least somewhere in the last 7 days. You’re not just your brain.
But let us look at women. For ages men have looked and women and discussed among themselves the age-old question: why do women love soaps?
I watched 5 episodes of a soap. It confused me. I just didn’t get it. What is the point of 30 minutes of fighting about Maria, who carries her sister Theresa’s baby, a baby Theresa made with Chad, Chad who turned out just cheated with Helga, Helga who is not only the mother of Theresa and Maria but also heir to the Sippensdale Imperium, the Sippensdale Imperium which Chad’s brothers hate to the bone! Oh an Maria is also a transgender. During the 5th episode I specifically remember thinking: what the fuck am I watching.
Of course, now I get it. Women can’t distinguish between the monkey dance and the monkey reality. For a women, the monkey dance is the reality. Soaps are a bunch of very pretty monkeys in pretty clothes performing dances on steroids. Of course they love it.
Now let us look at men.
The trick is to get men to enjoy their monkey dance.
Self-development used to be religious. Both are about your identity and place in this world. Now, people are very different, but people are also pretty similar. Men need property, need a woman, need monetary purpose, need männerbund, need children. None of these are absolutely necessary, but exclusion of any goes against our genetic programming. A happy father is a happy dancing monkey: it is good to feel in control of your life.
Modern life lacks feedback mechanisms that reward our natural dancing instincts. Teachers say you suck. Universities say you’re wrong. Companies say you don’t matter. Media says you’re evil. Etcetera etcetera. We are told our land is not really ours, and the same thing goes for our family, work and friends.
Dancing in such an environment sucks — our monkey instincts are too strongly abused. Unsurprisingly everyone is increasingly sick, which goes double for those who are officially designated to heal the sick: all psychologists are depressed, all psychiatrists are in denial.
I am struggling with how to end this. Some kind of uplifting message? Not sure. Getting to co-op/co-op outcome with men is hard. Requires time, trust, and something for all parties to gain. Am I dancing with my readers or just doing some autistic solo performance? Eh. We’ll see.