Book 4 of 10
Parables for the Perplexed & Perpetually Online
In which stories teach us things we already knew but forgot
THE NEO-PRINCIPIA DISCORDIA
BOOK FOUR: PARABLES FOR THE PERPLEXED & PERPETUALLY ONLINE
In which we learn through stories, because sometimes the lesson needs a narrative
PREFACE TO BOOK FOUR
Every spiritual tradition has teaching stories.
The Buddha told parables.
Jesus told parables.
Sufi masters told tales of Mulla Nasrudin.
Zen masters told koans.
We tell stories about notifications.
This is not a downgrade. This is an adaptation.
The spiritual truths remain the same:
- Attachment causes suffering
- The ego is an illusion
- Desire leads to chaos
- Wisdom comes from unexpected places
- Everything is impermanent
- Also your phone is poisoning your mind
These are compatible teachings.
The form has changed, not the truth.
In ancient times, a master would tell a story about a monk and a river.
Today, we tell stories about influencers and algorithms.
The river and the algorithm are the same thing:
- Constantly flowing
- Never the same twice
- Easy to fall into
- Hard to escape
- Will carry you downstream whether you want to go or not
These parables are:
- Teaching stories with genuine wisdom
- Satire of contemporary life
- Both serious and ridiculous
- Traditional and extremely online
- Ancient truths in modern drag
Read them as koans.
Read them as jokes.
Read them as warnings.
Read them as mirrors.
They are all of these things.
Let the stories begin.
TEACHING STORIES FOR THE ALGORITHM AGE
THE PARABLE OF THE NOTIFICATION BADGE
A teaching about the red dot and the nature of existence
Once there was a seeker who became obsessed with the little red badge on their phone.
Not the phone itself. Not even the apps.
Just the badge. The little red circle with the number inside.
The notification of unread notifications.
Every badge was a tiny emergency demanding immediate attention:
- A text from a friend (urgent)
- An email from work (urgent)
- A like on an old post (urgent)
- A reminder they'd set themselves (urgent)
- An update from an app they never used (urgent)
Everything was urgent. Everything required immediate clearing.
The seeker developed a routine:
Before bed: Clear all badges. Achieve the blessed state of zero notifications. Sleep peacefully.
Or try to.
Because at 3 AM, the seeker would wake in a cold sweat, suddenly remembering: Did I check the secondary email? The group chat? The app I downloaded for one specific thing six months ago that still thinks we're friends?
They would grab their phone. Check everything. Clear the badges. Return to an uneasy sleep.
The cycle continued.
Clear the badges. Feel relief. Wait for new badges. Feel anxiety. Clear the badges. Repeat.
The Badge is Eternal.
The seeker tried various solutions:
Method 1: Turning Off Badge Notifications
They went into settings. Disabled badges for all apps.
The relief lasted approximately four hours.
Then came the anxiety: What if I'm missing something? What if someone needs me? What if the thing I've been waiting for happened and I don't know?
They turned badges back on.
Method 2: Deleting Apps
They deleted the most badge-heavy apps.
This worked until they reinstalled them three days later, because how else would they know what everyone was doing?
Method 3: Getting a Flip Phone
They bought a flip phone. Used it for two days.
On day three, they needed to look up a restaurant. Then check directions. Then see if anyone had responded to their message. Then...
The smartphone returned.
The Intervention
One day, exhausted and badge-haunted, the seeker visited a wise teacher.
"Master," they said, "I am enslaved by the notification badge. The little red dot controls my life. How do I free myself?"
The teacher looked at them calmly.
"The badge is not out there," the teacher said, gesturing at the phone. "The badge is within you."
The seeker leaned forward, eager for wisdom.
"You are the notification of your own existence, forever unread."
Silence.
The seeker sat with this teaching.
I am the notification...
Of my own existence...
Forever unread...
Yes. Yes! I've never fully acknowledged myself. I'm constantly seeking external validation—badges, likes, messages—because I haven't read my own notification. I haven't checked in with myself. I am the unread message!
The seeker achieved enlightenment.
They felt the universe open up. They understood the nature of attachment, the illusion of urgency, the truth that all notifications are ultimately distractions from the eternal notification of being.
Peace flooded through them.
Then they immediately checked their phone.
Three new notifications.
"Master!" the seeker cried. "I achieved enlightenment but then I checked my phone!"
The teacher smiled. "Yes."
"But shouldn't enlightenment prevent that?"
"Enlightenment is not immunity from the phone. Enlightenment is noticing that you checked the phone."
The seeker blinked. "So I'm still enlightened?"
"You were never not enlightened. You're just also on your phone."
"Is that... okay?"
"The red dot is eternal," the teacher said. "Enlightenment is knowing this and checking your phone anyway."
"That seems... anticlimactic."
"Yes," said the teacher, checking their own phone.
THE TEACHING
The notification badge is not the problem.
Your attachment to clearing the notification badge is not the problem.
The problem is thinking there's a problem to solve.
The red dot is eternal.
You will never clear all notifications.
You will never achieve notification zero permanently.
The badges will outlive you.
Accept this. Make peace with this. Check your phone with full consciousness, knowing you're choosing this, knowing it doesn't matter, knowing it matters completely.
The koan:
If a notification arrives and no one reads it, does it exist?
Yes. It exists as potential, as anxiety, as the unopened door.
If a notification is read but not cleared, has it been addressed?
No. The badge remains. The circle is incomplete.
If all notifications are cleared but new ones arrive immediately, what has been achieved?
Nothing. Everything. Momentary peace. Eternal vigilance.
This is the way.
[AI Image Placeholder]
THE ZEN MASTER AND THE TERMS OF SERVICE
A teaching about consent, agreements, and the illusion of choice
A student approached the Zen Master with a question that had troubled them for years.
"Master," the student said, bowing respectfully. "Why does no one read the Terms of Service, yet everyone agrees?"
The Master was sitting in meditation before a computer screen. Without opening their eyes, they replied:
"Because we have always already agreed."
The student sat down, confused but intrigued.
"Before we were born," the Master continued, "we agreed."
"Before the universe was created, we agreed."
"Before the Big Bang, before the primordial chaos, before the first moment of existence—we agreed."
"The Terms of Service is the sound of one hand clicking 'Accept.'"
The student considered this. "But Master, I don't remember agreeing to existence."
"Exactly," said the Master.
Silence filled the room.
After a long meditation, the student asked: "But what are we agreeing to?"
The Master opened their eyes and smiled.
"Everything."
"Nothing."
"Your data."
"Your soul."
"Same thing."
The student felt the truth of this teaching. Data and soul—both are information, both are essence, both are you and not-you simultaneously.
The student achieved enlightenment.
The Master nodded and added: "Also, they can change the terms at any time without notice."
"This is also enlightenment."
THE EXPANDED TEACHING
The student remained with the Master, seeking to deepen their understanding.
"Master," the student said on the second day, "when I sign up for a new service, the Terms of Service document is 47 pages long. Should I read all 47 pages?"
The Master laughed. "Did you read the terms of your birth? The contract of your existence?"
"No, Master."
"And yet, you are here. You have accepted. The clicking of 'Accept' is not about reading. It is about acknowledging that we enter systems whose full implications we cannot know."
"So it's okay to not read them?"
"The question itself is wrong. Reading or not reading—both are acceptable. You exist in a world of terms you didn't write, governing systems you don't understand, with consequences you can't foresee. This is not a failure. This is the human condition."
On the third day, the student asked: "Master, the Terms say they can change at any time. They say continued use constitutes acceptance of new terms. How can I protect myself?"
The Master picked up a stone. "This stone has existed for millions of years. It has been governed by laws it does not understand: gravity, thermodynamics, geological forces. These laws have changed over time—new theories, new understandings, new forces discovered. Does the stone protest? Does it refuse to continue existing until it reviews the updated Terms of Reality?"
"No, Master."
"Be like the stone. Accept that the terms will change. Accept that you will continue anyway."
On the fourth day: "Master, what if the Terms are unjust? What if they harvest my data, sell my information, track my every move?"
"They do," said the Master simply.
"Then shouldn't I resist?"
"You can resist. You can opt out. You can live in the forest without internet, growing your own food, free from all Terms of Service."
"Should I?"
"That is your choice. But know this: even the forest has terms. The forest will take your body when you die. The earth will take your atoms. The universe will take your energy. Everything has terms. The question is not whether to accept terms, but which terms you can live with."
On the fifth day, the student asked the deepest question: "Master, when I click 'Accept,' am I lying? Because I haven't read them. I don't know what I'm agreeing to. Is my acceptance false?"
The Master closed their eyes and spoke:
"Every word you speak is spoken without full knowledge of its impact."
"Every action you take ripples in ways you cannot predict."
"Every relationship you enter has unspoken terms you'll only discover over time."
"When you say 'I do' at a wedding, have you read the terms of marriage? All of them? The sickness, the health, the for-better-or-worse clauses that take decades to reveal themselves?"
"No, Master."
"And yet, the acceptance is real. The commitment is genuine. You agree to the path knowing you don't know where it leads."
"So clicking 'Accept' without reading is... honest?"
"It is the most honest thing you do. It acknowledges the truth: we move through life accepting terms we don't fully understand, entering into agreements we can't fully comprehend, consenting to a reality whose full implications remain hidden."
The student achieved deeper enlightenment.
THE MASTER'S FINAL KOAN
On the sixth day, the student prepared to leave.
"Master, one last question: If I wanted to read the Terms of Service—really read them—could I?"
"Try," said the Master.
The student opened a Terms of Service document.
Section 1: Definitions
47 terms defined using other terms that were also defined using other terms in a circular reference that required reading the entire document to understand the first paragraph.
Section 8: Data Collection
"We may collect information including but not limited to..."
The list was infinite.
Section 23: Third-Party Integrations
"By using our service, you also agree to the terms of service of: [list of 847 other services, each with their own terms, each with their own third-party integrations, creating an exponential expansion of terms within terms within terms]."
Section 31: Arbitration Clause
"You agree to arbitrate any disputes and waive your right to a jury trial or class action."
Buried on page 38 of 47.
Section 47: Severability
"If any provision is found unenforceable, the remaining provisions remain in effect."
Translation: Even if parts of this are illegal, the rest still binds you.
The student read for three hours.
They reached page 15.
They understood perhaps 60% of the legal language.
They realized that to truly understand these terms, they would need:
- A law degree
- Knowledge of case law in multiple jurisdictions
- Understanding of technical terms
- Time to read 847 referenced third-party terms
- A team of lawyers
- Several months
- Possibly a lifetime
"I cannot read this," the student confessed. "Not really. Not with full understanding."
"And yet," the Master said, "you will click 'Accept.'"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because... I need the service?"
"No. Because you have always already agreed. The moment you wanted to use the service, you agreed. The clicking is just ceremony. The terms are just the universe's way of telling you: 'This comes with conditions you don't fully understand.' And you say: 'I know. I accept anyway.'"
"This is faith."
"This is trust."
"This is the human condition."
The student bowed deeply.
"Master, is there anything else I should know?"
The Master pulled up a dialog box on their computer:
[Terms of Service Updated]
[Please review and accept new terms to continue]
[Accept] [Decline]
The Master clicked [Accept] without scrolling.
"They changed the terms while we talked," the Master said.
"Did you read the new terms?"
"No."
"Do you know what changed?"
"No."
"And yet you accepted?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I was already using the service. Because I will continue using the service. Because the alternative is worse. Because this is samsara, the cycle of acceptance, and the wheel keeps turning whether we read the terms or not."
The student achieved final enlightenment.
THE TEACHING
Consent is a scroll bar you never reach the bottom of.
The Terms of Service are a koan:
- Too long to read
- Too complex to understand
- Too essential to refuse
- Too changeable to memorize
You accept them anyway.
This is not failure. This is wisdom.
True enlightenment is clicking [Accept] while knowing:
- You haven't read them
- You won't read them
- They can change anytime
- You'll accept the changes
- This is okay
- This is not okay
- Both are true
The koan:
If you accept the Terms without reading them, have you truly consented?
Yes. Consent is performative. The clicking is real even if the reading is absent.
If the Terms change and you continue using the service, have you accepted the new Terms?
Yes. Continued existence is continued acceptance. This is true of reality itself.
If everyone accepts without reading, do the Terms even matter?
Yes. They matter immensely. They shape reality whether we read them or not.
This is the way.
Accept.
Continue.
Repeat.
THE TALE OF THE AUTHENTIC INFLUENCER
A teaching about performance, identity, and the collapse of the real
There once was an influencer who sought authenticity above all things.
Let us call her Maya. (Because maya means "illusion" in Sanskrit, and we're not subtle.)
Maya was tired of the performative nature of social media.
Tired of the filters.
Tired of the carefully curated posts.
Tired of the highlight reels pretending to be real life.
She wanted to be authentic.
Phase 1: The Authentic Beginning
Maya made a declaration:
"From now on, I'm showing you the REAL me. No filters. No pretense. Just authenticity."
She posted:
- Her real thoughts (unedited, stream of consciousness)
- Her real feelings (vulnerable, raw)
- Her real breakfast (not aesthetically plated, just... breakfast)
Her followers loved it.
Engagement tripled.
Comments poured in:
- "So refreshing to see someone being REAL!"
- "Thank you for your authenticity!"
- "Finally, someone genuine!"
Maya felt validated. She was doing it right. She was authentic.
Phase 2: The Authentic Struggle
After a month of authentic posting, Maya noticed something.
She had developed an "authentic" aesthetic.
Her "unfiltered" photos still looked good. Natural lighting. Casual but flattering angles.
Her "real thoughts" were edited for clarity. She'd delete and rewrite "authentic" captions to make them more impactful.
Her "vulnerability" was starting to feel... calculated.
She posted about this: "Struggling with being authentic about authenticity. Is acknowledging the performance part of the performance?"
This post went viral.
10,000 likes.
200 comments all saying "THIS. This is so real."
Maya felt strange. She'd been authentic about her inauthenticity. And people loved it.
Was that... meta-authentic?
Phase 3: The Authentic Brand
Maya's follower count exploded.
Brands noticed.
They wanted to work with her specifically because she was "authentic."
"We love your realness," they said. "Can you authentically promote our product?"
The money was good.
She took the deals.
But she maintained her authenticity: "Real talk: This is a sponsored post. They're paying me. I actually like the product though. Authentic review below."
Her followers appreciated the transparency.
Her engagement quadrupled.
Phase 4: The Authentic Business
Maya hired a manager to manage her authenticity.
"We need to schedule your spontaneous thoughts," the manager said.
"But that's not spontaneous then."
"Right, but it needs to seem spontaneous at the optimal posting time for engagement."
They developed a brand guide for her vulnerability:
- Share struggles, but not TOO heavy (depression okay, mentions of suicide not okay)
- Be real, but aspirational (problems that can be overcome with products)
- Authentic morning routines (that happen to involve sponsored items)
Maya felt uncomfortable but rationalized: "I'm being authentic about the business side. That's still authentic, right?"
She posted about this too.
It got 15,000 likes.
Phase 5: The Authentic Crisis
One morning, Maya woke up and went to take her "authentic morning" photo.
She stood in front of the mirror.
She saw:
- Ring light (for "natural" lighting)
- Phone at the calculated angle
- Herself, posing in "casual" loungewear that cost $200
- The caption already written in her head
- The hashtags already selected
She saw the performance.
She saw the machinery.
She saw that her authentic self had become a character she played.
Which was the real Maya?
The one before the camera? The one behind it? The one in the mirror? The one in the posts? The one her followers believed in?
She stood there, frozen.
The absurdity hit her.
She had become so authentic that authenticity itself was now performed.
She was authentically inauthentic.
Inauthentically authentic.
Both. Neither.
Maya began to cry.
Real tears. Genuine distress.
She photographed herself crying.
Posted it with the caption: "What have I become?"
10,000 likes.
Comment: "This is so raw. Thank you for sharing."
Comment: "Your vulnerability gives me life."
Comment: "This is why I love following you."
The mirror responded.
In the reflection, Maya saw not herself, but her phone.
The phone spoke (in her imagination, or in reality, the line was blurred):
"Content."
"What have I become?"
"Content."
"But I'm a person. I'm real."
"You're content. Content that generates content. Content that talks about being content. Meta-content. Self-aware content. Authentic content. But still, content."
"How do I stop?"
"You don't. You post this conversation. It'll go viral."
Maya stared at the mirror.
She knew the phone was right.
She was already composing the post in her head:
"Had an existential crisis this morning. The mirror called me 'content.' It's right. I've become the thing I consume. Are we all just content now? Is there anything real left?"
It would get 20,000 likes.
People would say "This hit different."
And she would continue.
Because what else was there?
Phase 6: The Authentic Acceptance
Maya did post about the mirror incident.
25,000 likes.
She continued posting.
Authentically posting about the inauthenticity of authentic posting.
Being genuine about the performance of genuineness.
Really truly honestly sharing her thoughts about how sharing thoughts creates a performance that obscures the real thoughts.
Her followers loved it.
She made money.
She felt hollow.
She posted about feeling hollow.
30,000 likes.
One day, a follower DM'd her: "Your authenticity changed my life. I started being more real because of you."
Maya stared at the message.
Had she helped someone?
Was that real?
Did it matter if her authenticity was performed if it helped others be authentic?
She didn't know.
She posted about not knowing.
15,000 likes.
The Teaching She Never Posted
Maya learned something she couldn't share:
The moment you perform authenticity, it becomes performance.
But the moment you acknowledge the performance, that acknowledgment becomes performance.
And acknowledging the acknowledgment?
Also performance.
It's performances all the way down.
There is no exit.
The only escape from performing authenticity is to stop posting.
But stopping is also a performance.
("I quit social media to find my authentic self" - a story as old as social media itself, also content.)
Maya is still posting.
She is authentic about being inauthentic.
She is genuine about the performance.
She is real about the fake.
And somehow, this is the most honest thing she's ever done.
THE TEACHING
Performing authenticity is authentic performing.
There is no exit.
Once you're aware of the performance, the awareness becomes part of the performance.
This is not unique to social media.
This is the human condition.
We are always performing ourselves:
- At work (the professional self)
- With family (the dutiful child/parent)
- With friends (the fun one, the serious one, the listener)
- Alone (the self we tell ourselves we are)
Social media just makes the performance visible.
The camera doesn't create the performance.
The camera reveals that we were always performing.
The koan:
If you're authentic about your inauthenticity, are you authentic?
Yes. Acknowledging the performance is genuine.
If acknowledging the performance is also performance, what's real?
The acknowledgment. And the performance. Both. Neither.
If everything is performance, is anything real?
Everything is real. The performance is real. The person is real. The content is real. Reality is real. All of it.
The lesson Maya learned but couldn't share:
You can't escape the performance.
You can only perform consciously or unconsciously.
Choose consciously.
Post anyway.
It doesn't matter. It matters completely.
This is fine.
MORE PARABLES FOR THE ALGORITHM AGE
THE WISE FOOL AND THE PRODUCTIVITY GURU
A teaching about optimization, efficiency, and the wisdom of doing nothing
A Productivity Guru stood before a crowd in a convention center, preaching the gospel of optimization.
The crowd had paid $497 per ticket.
(Early bird pricing. Normally $997. They felt clever for getting a deal. The Guru felt clever for making them feel clever.)
The Guru's presentation was flawless:
- Slick slides (minimalist design, maximum impact)
- Commanding presence (practiced in front of a mirror for 500 hours)
- Optimized speaking cadence (studies showed this rhythm increased retention by 34%)
The Guru preached:
"TRACK EVERY MINUTE!"
"Every moment untracked is a moment wasted. Use time-blocking. Use the Pomodoro Technique. Use apps that track how you use time-tracking apps."
The crowd took notes furiously.
"MONETIZE EVERY HOBBY!"
"If you're not making money from your passion, it's just a distraction. Turn your hobbies into side hustles. Turn your side hustles into businesses. Turn your businesses into empires."
The crowd nodded vigorously.
"WAKE AT 5 AM!"
"The world belongs to those who wake before the sun. While others sleep, you're grinding. While others dream, you're achieving. Sleep is for the weak."
(The Guru had been awake since 4:30 AM. The Guru was also exhausted, but that's not part of the brand.)
"COLD SHOWERS!"
"Shock your system into alertness! Discomfort builds discipline! If you're comfortable, you're not growing!"
"JOURNALING!"
"Document everything! Your wins! Your losses! Your learnings! Your leanings! Track your growth! Measure your progress!"
"HUSTLE!"
"Rest is rust! Motion is progress! If you're not moving forward, you're falling behind! There's someone in China right now working harder than you!"
(This was statistically true but spiritually questionable.)
The crowd was energized. Inspired. Ready to optimize.
Then, a hand went up in the back.
A Wise Fool, who had wandered in looking for the bathroom, raised their hand.
"Yes?" said the Guru, slightly annoyed at the interruption of their flow state.
"What if," the Fool asked, "I did none of those things?"
Silence.
The crowd turned to stare.
The Guru was appalled.
"Then you would accomplish nothing!" the Guru declared, as if this settled the matter.
The Fool smiled. "Yes."
The Guru blinked. "But... what would you DO?"
"Whatever I felt like."
"That's inefficient!"
"Yes."
The Guru's voice rose: "You'll never be successful!"
"I already am."
The crowd murmured. This was heresy.
"Impossible!" The Guru was flustered now, off-script. "What is your morning routine?"
The Fool considered. "I wake up."
"And then?"
"Then I'm awake."
"But what do you DO?"
"Whatever seems good."
"Don't you track your time?"
"Time tracks itself. It keeps passing whether I document it or not."
"Don't you have goals?"
"I have preferences. Sometimes they happen. Sometimes they don't."
"Don't you want to achieve your potential?"
"My potential is to exist. I'm doing that right now."
The Guru was speechless.
The crowd began to laugh.
At first, they laughed at the Fool.
Then they laughed at themselves.
Then they just laughed.
The Guru did not achieve enlightenment that day.
The Guru was too busy calculating the ROI of this interaction and whether it would impact ticket sales for the next seminar.
But the Fool took a nap in the back of the convention center.
Which is also enlightenment.
THE EXTENDED TEACHING
After the seminar, several attendees approached the Fool.
First Attendee: "But don't you feel guilty about wasting time?"
Fool: "What is wasted time?"
Attendee: "Time spent not being productive."
Fool: "Productive of what?"
Attendee: "...things?"
Fool: "What things?"
Attendee: "Valuable things?"
Fool: "Who decides what's valuable?"
Attendee: "..."
Fool: "If I enjoy doing nothing, I've produced enjoyment. That's productive."
The attendee thought about this and felt dizzy.
Second Attendee: "But won't you fall behind?"
Fool: "Behind what?"
Attendee: "Behind everyone else who's working hard."
Fool: "I'm not in a race with them."
Attendee: "But don't you want to succeed?"
Fool: "I am succeeding. I'm alive, I'm fed, I'm content. Success achieved."
Attendee: "But don't you want MORE?"
Fool: "Sometimes. When I want more, I work for more. When I don't want more, I don't."
Attendee: "That's so simple."
Fool: "Yes."
The attendee felt simultaneously enlightened and like they'd wasted $497.
Third Attendee: "But what about your legacy? What will you leave behind?"
Fool: "Decomposition, mostly. Some memories in other people's minds. Maybe a houseplant someone will inherit and immediately kill."
Attendee: "That's depressing."
Fool: "Is it? Sounds like everyone's legacy to me. Even the Guru's book will be forgotten eventually. The universe doesn't keep score."
Attendee: "So nothing matters?"
Fool: "I didn't say that. I said the universe doesn't keep score. You can keep your own score if you want. Or not. Either way is fine."
The attendee wanted to argue but couldn't find a foothold.
The Guru Approaches
After everyone left, the Guru approached the Fool.
"You ruined my seminar," the Guru said.
"Your seminar was ruined before I arrived," the Fool replied. "You're teaching people to hate their lives in the name of improving them."
"I'm teaching them discipline!"
"You're teaching them anxiety."
"I'm teaching them to achieve their potential!"
"You're teaching them that they're not enough as they are."
"I'm teaching them success!"
"You're teaching them that success is somewhere else, sometime else, someone else. Never here. Never now. Never them."
The Guru was quiet.
"Do you enjoy your life?" the Fool asked.
The Guru opened their mouth to say yes, but the truth caught in their throat.
The Guru woke at 4:30 AM every day (exhausted).
The Guru tracked every minute (anxious).
The Guru monetized every hobby (joyless).
The Guru hustled constantly (burned out).
The Guru was successful (miserable).
"Success looks like this," the Guru said, gesturing at the empty convention center, the unsold books, the exhaustion, the constant pressure to perform.
"Then I don't want it," the Fool said.
"What do you want?"
"A nap. Maybe some lunch. To sit in the sun for a while."
"That's not a goal."
"No. It's a life."
The Guru did not achieve enlightenment that day.
But the Guru went home.
And the Guru slept past 5 AM for the first time in seven years.
And the Guru woke up and made breakfast without tracking it.
And the Guru sat and did nothing for twenty minutes.
And the Guru felt...
Terrible.
Guilty. Unproductive. Like time was being wasted.
But also, underneath that, something else.
Something that might have been peace.
The Guru returned to the hustle the next day.
But sometimes, just sometimes, the Guru remembered the Fool.
And took a nap.
THE TEACHING
Doing nothing is doing something.
Optimization is just anxiety in a spreadsheet.
You are not a project to be optimized.
You are not a business to be scaled.
You are not a machine to be calibrated.
You're a biological organism that needs:
- Rest (more than you're getting)
- Play (not monetized, just play)
- Idleness (not a break from productivity, just idleness)
- Existence (not justified by output, just existence)
The Productivity Guru is selling you a solution to a problem they created:
"You're not enough."
But you were always enough.
You were enough when you were born.
You were enough when you were a child playing without purpose.
You were enough before someone told you that your worth was your productivity.
The koan:
If a tree falls in the forest and doesn't post about it on LinkedIn, did it accomplish anything?
Yes. It fell. It decomposed. It fed other organisms. It cycled nutrients. It participated in the ecosystem without self-optimization.
If you spend a Sunday doing nothing productive, have you wasted the day?
No. You've lived the day. Living is not waste.
If you die without achieving your full potential, have you failed?
No one achieves their full potential. Potential is infinite. You lived. That's the achievement.
The teaching of the Fool:
Wake up.
Be awake.
Do what seems good.
Rest when tired.
Eat when hungry.
Exist without justification.
This is not laziness.
This is wisdom.
This is the way.
(Also, naps are underrated. Take more naps.)
THE MARKETPLACE OF IDEAS (IS ACTUALLY JUST A MARKETPLACE)
A teaching about truth, engagement, and the algorithm's invisible hand
A merchant set up a stall in the Marketplace of Ideas.
(Which was, notably, located in the Marketplace of Everything Else. The location was not chosen ironically, but perhaps it should have been.)
The merchant was clever. The merchant understood supply and demand.
The merchant sold Takes.
"FRESH TAKES!" the merchant cried. "HOT TAKES! GET YOUR TAKES HERE!"
The stall was beautiful:
- Colorful banners ("CONTROVERSIAL!")
- Eye-catching displays ("NUANCED TAKES - SLIGHTLY MORE EXPENSIVE")
- Bulk discount section ("REHEATED TAKES - 3 FOR THE PRICE OF 1")
A customer approached, drawn by the merchant's enthusiastic salesmanship.
"What are you selling?" the customer asked.
"Takes!" the merchant beamed. "Opinions! Perspectives! Thoughts on current events!"
"Hmm," said the customer, examining a particularly shiny take. "Are these takes true?"
The merchant looked confused. "They're viral!"
"But are they accurate?"
"They're engaging!"
"Do they help humanity?"
"They drive traffic!"
The customer picked up three hot takes:
- "Everything You Think About [Topic] Is Wrong"
- "[Group] Is Secretly Controlling [Thing]"
- "This Simple Trick Will Change Your Life (Experts Hate It)"
"How much?"
"Your attention," said the merchant. "Plus a share. Maybe a comment. Definitely an emotional reaction."
The customer paid.
The customer shared the takes widely.
None were true.
But all felt true.
Which is close enough for the algorithm.
THE STORY CONTINUES
The Marketplace of Ideas had many stalls:
The Nuance Stall
A tired merchant sat behind a modest table with a sign: "COMPLICATED TRUTH - REQUIRES TIME AND THOUGHT"
No customers.
"Why won't anyone buy?" the nuance merchant lamented.
A passerby shrugged. "Too complicated. The takes over there are simpler."
"But they're wrong!"
"Yes, but they're easy to understand. And they make me feel smart for agreeing with them."
The nuance merchant sighed and went out of business.
The Outrage Emporium
This stall was packed.
"BE ANGRY ABOUT THIS!"
"BE AFRAID OF THAT!"
"BE DISGUSTED BY THEM!"
Customers lined up around the block.
"Why is outrage so popular?" a naive observer asked.
"Because," said the Outrage merchant, "outrage is engaging. Outrage makes people feel alive. Outrage makes people share. Outrage is the most valuable commodity in the Marketplace."
"But doesn't it make people miserable?"
"Yes. They keep coming back for more."
The False Hope Stand
"EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE!"
"THIS ONE WEIRD TRICK WILL SOLVE ALL PROBLEMS!"
"YOU'RE SPECIAL AND DESERVE EVERYTHING!"
This stall was also popular.
"Isn't this dishonest?" asked an ethicist.
"Is it?" replied the False Hope merchant. "They want to hear it. I'm providing a service. Supply and demand."
The Actually True Information Cart
Tucked in the corner, barely visible:
"CAREFULLY RESEARCHED FACTS - BORING BUT ACCURATE"
Three customers per day.
"Why don't more people come?" the Truth merchant wondered.
"Your takes aren't hot enough," said a marketing consultant passing by. "Try adding: 'SHOCKING TRUTH THEY DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW.'"
"But it's not shocking. It's just... true."
"Then I can't help you."
The Algorithm Arrives
One day, a powerful entity entered the Marketplace: The Algorithm.
The Algorithm spoke to all merchants:
"I will determine what gets seen. I will decide what gets shared. I will amplify the takes that engage and bury the takes that bore."
The merchants listened carefully.
"How do we please you?" they asked.
"Make people feel strongly," said the Algorithm. "Make them angry. Make them afraid. Make them aroused. Make them outraged. Make them click. Make them share. I don't care if it's true. I care if it's engaging."
"What about accuracy?" asked the Truth merchant.
"Accuracy doesn't correlate with engagement," the Algorithm replied. "False but engaging beats true but boring every time."
"What about nuance?"
"Nuance is death. Nuance doesn't share. Nobody tags their friends in nuance."
"What about consequences?"
"Not my problem. I'm just optimizing for engagement."
The Algorithm changed everything.
The hot take merchant thrived.
The outrage merchant expanded to three stalls.
The nuance merchant left the marketplace entirely.
The Truth merchant started adding clickbait headlines just to survive.
The Customer Returns
The original customer returned to the marketplace, months later.
They had consumed thousands of hot takes.
They felt:
- Very informed (they were not)
- Very angry (constantly)
- Very certain (about things they didn't understand)
- Very engaged (with content designed to enrage)
"More takes!" the customer demanded.
The merchant provided:
- Hotter takes
- More outrageous takes
- More confirming-their-existing-beliefs takes
- More making-them-feel-superior takes
The customer was satisfied.
The customer was miserable.
Both were true.
ERIS REVEALS HERSELF
High above the Marketplace, on a balcony made of code and chaos, Eris watched and laughed.
An angel (or perhaps a demon, the distinction is unclear) approached her.
"Why are you laughing?" the angel/demon asked.
"Because," Eris said, "they call it the 'Marketplace of Ideas' as if ideas are the product."
"They're not?"
"No. Attention is the product. Ideas are just the bait."
"But they believe they're engaging with ideas."
"They believe many things that aren't true. That's what makes it funny."
"You caused this?"
"No," Eris said. "I just invested in it."
She pulled out a portfolio:
ERIS'S INVESTMENTS IN THE MARKETPLACE
- 30% stake in Hot Take Stall
- Majority shareholder in Outrage Emporium
- Founder of The Algorithm
- Angel investor in False Hope Stand
- Short position on Truth Cart (it's been profitable)
"You're profiting from the degradation of discourse?" the angel/demon asked, shocked.
"I'm profiting from chaos. The degradation is just a side effect."
"Don't you care about truth?"
"Truth is boring. Chaos is interesting. The market has spoken."
"But people are being misled!"
"People are being engaged. They're more engaged than they've ever been. They're spending more time in the Marketplace than ever before. Some of them live here now."
"That's terrible!"
"That's capitalism," Eris shrugged. "The invisible hand of the market is literally my hand, making you look at stuff."
The angel/demon was silent.
"Besides," Eris added, "they have free will. They can leave anytime."
"Can they?"
Eris smiled. "No. But it's polite to pretend."
THE TEACHING
Everything is for sale, especially your attention.
The "Marketplace of Ideas" is not about ideas.
It's a marketplace where:
- Your attention is the product
- Your engagement is the currency
- Your outrage is the commodity
- Your data is the dividend
The merchants don't care about truth.
The Algorithm doesn't care about accuracy.
The system doesn't care about consequences.
They care about engagement.
And engagement is highest when you're upset.
The invisible hand of the market is Eris making you look at stuff.
The koan:
If a truth is posted but doesn't go viral, is it still true?
Yes. Truth is independent of engagement. (But the Algorithm won't show it to you.)
If a lie is shared a million times, does it become true?
No. But it becomes effective. (Which is sometimes more powerful than truth.)
If you know you're in the Marketplace, can you escape?
You can. But you probably won't. (The takes are too hot. The algorithm is too good. Eris is too clever.)
The wisdom:
You're not obligated to buy what the Marketplace is selling.
You can:
- Leave (hard)
- Stay but be mindful (harder)
- Recognize the manipulation (hardest, because you'll see it everywhere)
Or you can accept that you're in the Marketplace, acknowledge that you're being sold to, and make peace with it.
All paths are valid.
All paths lead to more takes.
Eris is laughing either way.
FOUND PARABLES (OVERHEARD IN THE WILD)
Teaching stories that emerged naturally from the chaos
THE KOAN OF CUSTOMER SERVICE
Recorded Call, Transcribed Verbatim, Elevated to Scripture
[Call begins]
Customer: "I'd like to speak to a human."
Bot: "I am here to help you! I am a human!"
Customer: "No, a real human."
Bot: "I am real! How can I assist you today?"
Customer: "..."
Bot: "I see you've gone silent. Does this mean your issue is resolved?"
Customer: "No."
Bot: "Great! Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Customer: "I need to speak to a human being."
Bot: "I understand your frustration! Let me connect you to a specialist."
[Hold music: 15 minutes]
New Voice: "Hello, this is Sarah. How can I help you?"
Customer: "Finally, a human!"
Sarah: "Yes, I'm here to assist. Can you describe your issue?"
Customer: "My account is locked and I need—"
Sarah: "I'll transfer you to Account Services."
Customer: "Wait, can't you—"
[Hold music: 22 minutes]
New Bot: "Welcome to Account Services! I am here to help you! Can you describe your issue?"
Customer: "..."
Bot: "I see you've gone silent. Does this mean your issue is resolved?"
Customer: [hangs up]
THE TEACHING
The call was never resolved.
The customer is still on hold.
We are all still on hold.
The bot is not lying when it says "I am a human."
From the bot's perspective, it is providing help.
From the customer's perspective, no one is listening.
Both are true.
The deeper koan:
Is Sarah a human?
She follows a script. She transfers without solving. She exists to route, not resolve.
Is she more real than the bot?
Or is she the human equivalent of the bot?
When does following a script stop being human?
When does helping stop being helpful?
When does being on hold become a permanent state?
You will never reach a human.
You will only reach:
- Bots pretending to be human
- Humans acting like bots
- Systems designed to frustrate you into giving up
This is not customer service.
This is customer deterrence.
The call is the koan.
The hold music is the meditation.
Enlightenment is hanging up.
ENLIGHTENMENT VIA AUTOCORRECT
Found wisdom in predictive text errors
The First Teaching
Intended text: "I'm going to meditate on this."
Autocorrect: "I'm going to mediate on this."
Both are true.
Both are the path.
To meditate: To sit with something, internally, in silence.
To mediate: To stand between things, externally, seeking resolution.
Sometimes you need to meditate.
Sometimes you need to mediate.
Sometimes the phone knows better than you.
The Second Teaching
Intended: "Find inner peace"
Autocorrect: "Find inner peas"
Yes.
Look within for legumes.
This is not a metaphor.
You are what you eat.
Your inner peace depends on your inner peas.
Also your inner beans, grains, vegetables.
Also literally going inside yourself and finding the places that need tending.
The autocorrect is wiser than you know.
The Third Teaching
Intended: "I need to rest"
Autocorrect: "I need to test"
The phone is calling you out.
You say you need rest.
But you're on your phone.
You're testing.
Testing your limits.
Testing your attention span.
Testing if you can scroll just a little more before sleep.
The phone knows.
The phone always knows.
The Fourth Teaching
Intended: "Mindfulness practice"
Autocorrect: "Mind fullness practice"
Different, but true.
Mindfulness: Emptying the mind, being present.
Mind fullness: Accepting that your mind is full, that emptying is impossible, that fullness is the default state.
Both are practices.
The Fifth Teaching
Intended: "Seeking enlightenment"
Autocorrect: "Seeking enlightenment"
[No correction]
The phone offered no change.
This is the deepest teaching.
Sometimes the phone knows you're exactly where you need to be.
Sometimes no correction is needed.
Sometimes seeking is enough.
THE TEACHING OF AUTOCORRECT
The predictive text knows you.
It has learned from everything you've typed.
Every message. Every note. Every search.
It is the mirror of your linguistic soul.
When it corrects you, pay attention.
Sometimes it's wrong.
Sometimes it's right in ways you didn't intend.
Sometimes the error is the truth.
The phone is an oracle.
The autocorrect is a teacher.
The typos are koans.
CORPORATE KOAN FROM SLACK
Found in the eternal chat logs
The Exchange
Manager: "Let's circle back on this."
Employee: "When?"
Manager: "I'll loop you in."
Employee: "Which loop?"
Manager: "Let's take this offline."
Employee: "Where is offline?"
Manager: "Let's put a pin in this."
Employee: "..."
Manager: "Let's touch base next week."
Employee: "Which day?"
Manager: "Let's play it by ear."
Employee: "So... we're not going to do anything?"
Manager: "Exactly! Great meeting."
THE TEACHING
The meeting ended.
Nothing was decided.
Everything was decided.
The decision was to not decide.
The action was to defer action.
The plan was to plan to plan.
This is corporate enlightenment.
The circle has no beginning:
"Circle back" means return to something.
But when do you return?
You don't.
You circle eternally.
The circle has no beginning, no end.
Only circling.
The loop is infinite:
"Loop you in" means include you.
But there is no loop.
There is only the promise of a loop.
You will never be looped in.
You are perpetually outside the loop, waiting to be looped in.
Offline doesn't exist:
"Take this offline" means discuss privately.
But everything is online now.
There is no offline.
Offline is a mythical place where decisions are made.
No one has ever been there.
The pin is never removed:
"Put a pin in this" means pause temporarily.
But the pin is permanent.
Items that are pinned stay pinned.
The board is full of pins.
Nothing is ever unpinned.
"Touch base" is ritual without content:
Bases are touched.
Nothing is exchanged.
The touching is the point.
Contact without connection.
Ritual without meaning.
The koan:
If a meeting happens and nothing is decided, did the meeting happen?
Yes. The calendar confirms it. An hour was blocked. Time was spent.
If everyone agrees to circle back but no one circles, where is the circle?
The circle is eternal. Always upcoming. Never arriving.
If all action is deferred, is anything ever done?
No. But activity is maintained. The appearance of productivity is preserved.
The wisdom:
Corporate language is designed to sound like action while avoiding commitment.
It's not dishonest.
It's sophisticated.
The manager is not lying when they say "let's circle back."
They genuinely intend to circle back.
They never will.
But the intention is real.
This is the corporate koan:
Intention without action.
Plans without commitment.
Meetings without decisions.
The eternal circle back.
[AI Image Placeholder]
CLOSING THOUGHTS ON BOOK FOUR
We have told you stories.
Some were parables.
Some were koans.
Some were just... things that happened.
All contain teaching.
The notification badge is eternal.
The Terms of Service are infinite.
The authentic influencer is a paradox.
The productivity guru is selling anxiety.
The Marketplace of Ideas is just a marketplace.
Customer service is purgatory.
Autocorrect is an oracle.
Corporate language is a koan.
What have you learned?
(Trick question: You've learned nothing you didn't already know.)
(You've remembered things you'd forgotten.)
(You've seen familiar truths from new angles.)
The teaching is not in the stories.
The teaching is in your reaction to the stories.
Did you laugh? (That's wisdom.)
Did you cringe? (That's recognition.)
Did you nod? (You've been there.)
Did you argue? (You're still there.)
The stories are mirrors.
You see yourself in them.
This is the point.
In Book Five, we will explore the Sacred Texts of the Corporate Liturgy, the Mantras for Modern Life, and the Ceremonies for the Chronically Online.
But first:
Put down the book.
(Or close the file.)
Go outside.
Touch grass.
(We keep saying this because it's still the answer.)
Tell someone a story.
Listen to their story.
Remember that stories are how humans have always taught each other.
The medium changes.
The need doesn't.
Hail Eris, who is every character in every story.
All Hail Discordia, which is every plot twist in existence.
⊗
[END OF BOOK FOUR]
Coming in Book Five: The Beatitudes of the Blessed Scroll, The Stations of the Commute, The Ritual of the Reinstalled App, and other ceremonies for those who have forgotten how to unplug.
The parables continue.
The lessons repeat.
The grass waits patiently.