“Even this journaling is habitual…”
“Are these loops who I am?”
“How do you break out?”
This morning, while the coffee was still ritual-warm in my hand and the fog of sleep hadn’t yet burned off, a familiar thought spiral spun up:
Am I actually moving forward… or just rehearsing the illusion of change?
I’ve written versions of this same question in my journal dozens of times. Hundreds, maybe. The handwriting shifts, the context changes, but the core dialogue hums the same ancient tune:
How do I change me—from the inside out?
And I don’t mean tweaking behaviour or managing mindset. I mean radical inside change—the kind that rearranges the architecture of your being. The kind that doesn’t just put a new coat of paint on the self but rips up the floors, knocks out walls, and rewires the electrical grid of perception.
So this post is a field note from that edge. A dispatch from the liminal zone where identity, habit, and personal power intersect.
The Power Sinks Game
I’ve been thinking about where personal power goes—not in the grand, mythical sense of “power”, but in the everyday: will, attention, energy. For most of us, it leaks out through tiny cracks in the system:
- Habits of thinking
- Patterns of feeling
- Reflexes of perceiving
- Beliefs we inherited without questioning
These are the “power sinks”—mental background apps draining your battery. And they’re sneaky. Because they don’t feel like drains. They feel like you.
But what if the “you” you think you are is really just a script written by repetition?
That question shakes the core. Because if it’s true… then to become someone new, you don’t just change your habits. You change the habits of your being.
Thought is the Root System
Here’s the rub: everything springs from the quality of your thinking. Not just your actions, but your interpretations. Your filters. Your sense of possibility.
And if your thinking hasn’t changed—if it still runs along the same grooves, asks the same questions, and clings to the same myths—then even your most valiant efforts to change might just be a new costume on the same actor.
It’s why change feels like walking in circles.
It’s why so many journals are haunted by recurring themes.
Even this post is an echo of earlier ones.
But there’s a difference between a loop and a spiral.
A loop returns to the same place, unchanged.
A spiral revisits the same themes—but with altitude.
The view is wider. The insight, deeper.
Are We All Just Looping?
You might wonder: Is this what it’s like for everyone?
Yes. And no.
Yes—because everyone lives inside patterns. Identity is mostly automation.
But no—not everyone sees the pattern. Not everyone asks if they’re repeating it. And the act of asking? That’s the spark of awakening.
Most people are in the dream.
Some people realise they’re dreaming.
A few learn how to dream lucidly.
That’s the path I’m on. And maybe you are too.
So… How Do You Change the Pattern?
Not by brute force.
Not by reciting affirmations in the mirror until your voice cracks.
True change—radical inside change—comes from ritual disruption and mythic rewriting. Here’s what that looks like:
- Name the Loop.
Give form to the default thought. “Ah, this is the ‘not enough’ script.” “Here’s the ‘I’ll start tomorrow’ daemon.” Naming it disarms it. - Break the Pattern Symbolically.
Change something small but sacred. Write with your non-dominant hand. Rearrange your room. Sleep on the opposite side of the bed. These aren’t just quirks—they’re spells. Signals to the psyche that the script is shifting. - Speak From the Other Side.
Here’s the alchemical move: write as the version of you who’s already changed. What would Future You say to Present You? What would his morning feel like? - Play the Game Differently.
Stop trying to win by the old rules. Make up your own. Don’t fight the loop. Outgrow it. Rewrite the operating system.
🧭 Try This: A Prompt from the Future
Here’s a journal experiment. A little trickster ritual to slip the trap of repetition:
Write tomorrow’s journal entry as your next evolution.
Not as who you are today. But as the version of you who’s already made the leap.
What does his world feel like? What has he stopped believing? What rules is he playing by now?
Write it in his voice. Let him speak through your hand.
You might be surprised by what he knows.
🌌 Final Thought: Descent, Not Escape
Most of us look for escape. But transformation isn’t an exit door—it’s a descent.
Into your own underworld.
Into the shadowy corners of habit and identity.
Into the patterns you didn’t know you were rehearsing.
You don’t run from the loop.
You descend into it.
And return with fire.
This post is part of my ongoing practice of rogue learning—treating life as an experiment in transformation, awareness, and inner rebellion. If this sparked something in you, feel free to journal your own version and send it my way. Or better yet—share it with someone else caught in the loop.
Because some of us aren’t trying to escape the dream.
We’re here to wake up inside it—and rewrite it from the source.