Chapter 1: The Mind as Our True Home

Real estate is among the most cherished assets of humanity. Yet, there exists a type of real estate that is inherently ours by birthright—not something we inherit, obtain, or conquer. This property is our mind, the most personal space where our true essence resides. Ironically, we often neglect this sanctuary, allowing both allies and adversaries, particularly those we dislike, to enter. Once inside, these unwelcome guests can be challenging to evict, often overstaying their welcome at no cost to themselves. In fact, we may pay a hefty price for their presence.

In a world that is constantly changing, we tend to fixate on static images of others, molding them based on our own perceptions and biases. We cling to outdated views of people, resisting the reality of their growth and transformation. This leads us to hold onto the ghosts of past relationships, cherishing the old versions of individuals who have moved on. When we encounter a living person, we immediately judge them through these ghosts, assigning them a mental space that exists only in our memory, far removed from their current selves.

When we see someone has changed, we often react with, "You've changed!" as if it were a betrayal. Yet change is the very essence of life; to deny it is to deny reality itself, clinging instead to an illusion.

Within this mental estate is a vast library, a collection of wisdom where we seek guidance and comfort in challenging times. However, this library often resembles a chaotic maze, filled with outdated beliefs and irrelevant information. We hoard knowledge indiscriminately, struggling to separate valuable insights from obsolete ones. Much of what we accumulate is not originally ours; it has been absorbed from external sources, remaining as indigestible fragments that surface in conversation. Any challenge to these notions, however misguided, is viewed as a threat to our identity. We often expend energy arguing against the challenger rather than critically evaluating the idea itself. These concepts become intertwined with our identity, like cherished belongings within our mental space. When these core beliefs are questioned, it feels as if our very essence is under siege, prompting a defensive reaction to protect our self-image. We rarely confront the outdated ideas and biases inherited from previous generations, allowing them to linger alongside more enlightened perspectives. This mental clutter not only obscures our access to crucial insights but also weighs us down with unnecessary burdens, complicating our ability to navigate life's complexities with clarity and intention.

We also harbor rooms filled with our own ghosts—the selves we once were, the identities imposed on us by society, and the versions of ourselves that we could have become. Here, we nurture the specters of our most painful moments. In another chamber, we hold vivid aspirations for our future selves—visions crafted with hopes and dreams. While these aspirations can be motivating, they can also trap us in cycles of dissatisfaction. When we cling too tightly to our meticulously planned future, any deviation can lead to significant unhappiness. Like architects who refuse to adjust their designs despite changing circumstances, we often find ourselves frustrated when reality does not align with our envisioned futures. This attachment suppresses our ability to adapt and appreciate the present, overshadowing the joys and opportunities that lie beyond our expectations.

The stakes rise when anything or anyone threatens these cherished future visions. In our minds, such threats become not just obstacles but perceived assassins of the future self we long to become. Ironically, we often become the architects of our own demise. Instead of learning from past mistakes, we cling to guilt, allowing it to fester in a room filled with regrets. Here, the ghosts of our former selves are repeatedly chastised for their existence, and we often revisit this space, lamenting what could have been rather than focusing on what can be.

Consider my experience at an office party last year. The food was largely unappetizing, except for one spinach pizza. I had only one slice, despite my hunger, and I spent a long time contemplating whether to take the last slice. Just as I was about to make my move, a colleague devoured it. My reaction was intense rage, leading me to almost lash out. In that moment, I realized this fury was not rational. It wasn't just about the pizza; it was about the future image I had constructed of enjoying that last slice. My colleague hadn't merely eaten; he had obliterated my imagined future.

This incident raises a crucial question: how often do we find ourselves fixated on future desires, replaying them endlessly in our minds? Life, in its unpredictability, often diverges from our scripted aspirations, leading to profound emotional repercussions.

Imagine someone who is obsessively attached to the vision of a successful career abroad, filled with achievements and global experiences. This individual has integrated this future so deeply into their identity that it has become indistinguishable from their present self. They replay scenarios of this future life, embedding these aspirations further into their psyche, creating a rigid attachment to a specific narrative of success.

This fixation is more than hopeful thinking; it becomes a profound attachment that blurs the line between aspiration and reality. The imagined life abroad transitions from possibility to an essential aspect of their identity—a non-negotiable part of their future existence. The emotional investment in this vision is so intense that any deviation feels like a personal betrayal, a theft of the future they believe is rightfully theirs.

However, everything shifts with the arrival of a child. While for many, this milestone brings joy, it represents a significant disruption for this individual. The new responsibility necessitates a reshuffling of priorities, perhaps requiring them to postpone or abandon their international aspirations. The strong attachment to their envisioned career clashes with the equally demanding role of parenthood. Subconsciously, they may grapple with resentment—not because they do not love their child, but because this new life represents a departure from the future they had meticulously envisioned. In their mind, the birth of their child, while a blessing, inadvertently becomes a threat to the dreams of their carefully constructed future self. They may even experience guilt regarding their parenting, feeling it deviates from the idealized version of themselves imposed by society.

When there is no one to blame for the loss of an unrealized future, or when life unexpectedly alters our path, we often feel powerless. In such moments, self-pity can creep in. There’s a certain allure in indulging this pity, allowing us to dwell on what might have been and transforming our frustrations into a tragically beautiful narrative.

Ultimately, we cling to distractions, narratives rooted in the past or projected into the future, as a means to escape the present. This avoidance often arises not just from a desire to flee the present but from the stress caused by the discrepancies between our mental images and reality. While daydreams may offer temporary refuge during tumultuous times, they can also exacerbate our anxiety and discontent. Instead of confronting this cycle, we often dive deeper into mental escapism, further distancing ourselves from present realities. This pattern becomes self-reinforcing: the stress from imagined scenarios leads us to seek solace in further fantasies, trapping us in a cycle of avoidance.

To step outside this grand yet confining mental architecture, we must do more than merely open the windows; we must critically evaluate the very foundations built on the narratives of others and our past experiences. As we navigate from the cluttered library of beliefs to the haunted rooms of regrets, can we begin to question the necessity of these persistent images? Can we love someone for who they are now rather than clinging to outdated perceptions? Are we capable of detaching from the lingering portraits of those we once knew or even from our past selves? This intimate space should not serve as a prison confined by the ghosts of what was or the illusions of what could be. Is it possible to exist without these mental constructs, to inhale the fresh air of present realities and direct experiences? By challenging our attachment to these illusory barriers, might we shift into a realm of genuine understanding and meaningful connections, embracing the vibrant reality of the present?

Chapter 2: Confronting the Future: A New Perspective

In the video titled Future Superhuman: Our Transhuman Lives in a Make or Break Century, we explore how the evolution of our identities is intertwined with technological advancements and the philosophical implications of becoming 'more than human.'

The second video, CIA Spy: "Leave The USA Before 2030!" Why You Shouldn't Trust Your Gut!, delves into the complexities of decision-making in a world filled with uncertainty and how our instincts can often mislead us in navigating life's challenges.