3 min read日本語

Don’t Touch It

🎧Listen to this entry

Delighted to find a nice hook nestled inside the nook of a book, the product of ΩNE Tim Sanders mind.

This particular story, enlightened ΩNE into highly useful Productivity Notion.

Practice personalized subconscious programming—automate all possible instances of infinite possibilities—thoroughly embrace idiosyncratic journey in Material Sludge—throughout nooks and crannies of the plethora of esoteric times and minds.

A wireframe human head rendered in gold light with rays bursting from the brow, streaks of light behind

Material Sludge

Touch things once, at most twice, or if possible in fact, do not touch it, any which-way, whatsoever at all.

Tasks in paper form—piled high—ripe with unceasing incessant urgency—for ΩNE's unconditional love and affection—personal fickle fleeting attention, with the notion of your dwindling ephemeral time.

A rendering of glowing blue neurons with their branching connections spreading through darkness

ΩNE could say, even entertaining the notion of the (metaphorical) paper (again10), pondering shared fate, multiple times and over again, is somewhat akin to physically engaging it, thus frying away narrow bandwidth, all mental processing power, rapidly draining away.

Hint Mint

Create personalized autonomous Auto-System by exploring the foundation of Japanese Way—Form, Order, Process.

A hand in a suit cuff turning one of a set of interlocking metal gears

Japanese does not innately grasp the Occxie notion of productivity, of which can be observed in the pensive and reticent nature of the Japanese, when it comes to the true meaning of corporate-family productivity.

Japanese have specific roles to play, when deadwood does not pull weight (productivity), lethargic slugs find their chair, has been moved in sideways motion, to arrive then reside beside the window—becoming a shamed member of the dreaded Window Tribe.

Two weathered white-framed windows in a pale blue wooden wall, curtains drawn behind the glass

Emotion Basket

“Don’t Touch It” protocol has plethora of application, valuable tools, smoothing any and all journey along the way.

Here is potent potion, along with the secret notion to internalize reading the air, with tender loving care, and then there, refer to wise cautionary way as the Japanese say:

触らぬ 神に祟無し- Land Of The Rising Son

No one is left unscathed by constructed drudge of Material Sludge inside the visceral human condition.

Wounds of past, presence ennui, living in incessant uncertainty—for it is truly certain—the future always rhymes—manufactured tales—repeatable and distinctly know—yet still is thought upon, as mysterious, out of control, opaque, and will always remain unknown.

A dark concrete interior with a single bright strip of light, and lettering reading into the unknown

After the initial shock of actualizing this realization, ΩNE is better prepared for Emotional Basket zones.

All success in any arena of Emotional Basket, must be connected with the skill of reading the air, and implements the Sooth Savage protocol:

poke god not— be not cursed

Here is where ΩNE definitely does not prod tender volatile frayed nerves.

Observe remnants of scars from distant instance, throbbing like a sad badge, queuing up same extinct CD to reminisce of self-inflicted pain—like an abusive lover—sameness of shabby story—entrenched inside unceasing moldy trivial mind-games.

A black and white checkerboard pattern warped into a deep tunnel, creating an optical illusion

As example to not bothering touching something at all, the Japanese would also like to remind ΩNE of the following:

野次馬 → ya ji uma → rubberneck

It is highly recommend to always implement the following astute protocol to live a serene and fulfilling life:

mind one’s own phacken affairs

It is here and now, where ΩNEwill then and there declare, to have taken the initiative to exclude ΩNE of the notion of time and mood, and hidden consequences when encountering the volatile realm of some mere curious onlooker.

When in doubt, no need to pout or shout, the call of protocol not to be denied ΩNE can now see, in glory and glee that if you only open your eyes—here is where ΩNE becomes truly free—Don’t Touch It.

A hand reaching toward a small globe ringed with a city skyline, lit from behind against dark blue