Joy in Self-Mastery

It's September and I've only posted thrice in 2025. What's going on? Not sure, perhaps it's indicative of how chilled early retirement in the tropics is? Still feels like I'm "living the dream".

Anyhow, the inspiration for this drivel is an American who moved here in January. The way he's structured his life is at such variance with mine that he's had me reflecting on the choices both parties have made - and prompted an examination of a glaring life paradox - which will be reconciled here.

Recent months have seen the spontaneous emergence of daily sunset gatherings of the aforementioned American, myself and a Kiwi, forming the disparate vertices of an irregular three sided polygon. Each node bound to the next by ropes under tension. Three archetypes: the Ascetic Monk (me), the Epicurean Hedonist (American) and the Mischievous Economist (Kiwi). Gentle tugs of the ropes nudge the conversation towards each actor's incongruous mode of being.

Context

After turning 40 in early 2014 I wrote this:

After the initial shock of learning that I'm totally skint I’ve had to regroup and consider my predicament. The only thing I own of any value is a motorbike. It’s unlikely I’ll ever accumulate that much wealth again. However, this rags-to-riches-to-rags story will not destroy me. I will be resolute. I will continue to live a modest life, adhering to the tenets of minimalism, squirreling bits away when I can. 

The good news is that not only did I "accumulate that much wealth again", I exceeded my wildest expectations by leveraging my modest savings (from teaching) to multiples of the lost amount - outperforming much of Wall Street along the way. Suffice to say I'm sitting comfortably.

Why bring that up? To brag? No. It pertains to the paradox.

Paradox

As regular readers know I have structured my life around a Misesian rationality of sovereignty, peace and solitude. Mises tells us value is subjective, contextual and ordinal - I hold this to be axiomatic - and these are the things I value, in this place, at this time and in that order. Notice, there are no material objects.

In contrast to that we have the American who values the satiation of his sensory pleasures above all else. His actions reveal his preferences and I'm always left with the image of a dog chasing its tail. At the mercy of Schopenhauer's chaotic Will - an underlying, blind, ceaseless striving animating his being.

This striving manifests itself as the pursuit of sensory pleasure - sex, food, comfort, novelty, status, validation - but mostly sex in his case. However, this is seen as a negative from my frame because it only serves to temporarily relieve the endless suffering that arises from desire. There's never enough clunge to fill the void.

So what's the paradox? Yeah, back to that. Well, back in the 2006-2012 epoch I was running on the same treadmill. Endless debauchery. A never ending stream of women yet, somehow, never enough. Not hot enough, not cheap enough, not mind-blowing enough. Before the current one's finished the mind already on the next. Always dreaming "one day, if I ever have enough money, I'll smash all the 10s in daily threesomes". An endless, chaotic cycle.

Fortunately, fiscal reality forced moderation in Phuket's Adult Disneyland as infinite resources would likely have been my end such was the addict I was (sex, alcohol, nicotine). Inwardly seething as rich boomers swanned off with their rich pickings and I was left to suffer the indignity of unfulfilled desires.

However, now I'm the "rich boomer" in that situation, with enough means to live out every carnal fantasy I've ever had. Yet I don't.

Why?

Well, let's zoom out and take a bird's eye view of the human male life cycle.

Life

First we have the “youthful hunger” phase, resources are scarce and hormones high, the imagination fixates on external abundance: money, women, status, chaos, intoxication. The “if only I were rich, I’d…” phase.

Next, the “sovereign awakening” phase. Once you actually practice self-discipline and test the thesis: “Does indulgence satisfy?”, you discover it doesn’t - at least not compared to the joy of agency, self-mastery, and clarity.

Then, the “peace and solitude” phase. With chaos in the past, peace is no longer boring - it’s earned. Solitude isn’t loneliness, it’s freedom from noise. Disciplined living is stoic pleasure in abstinence.

So how's it a paradox? Well, I've lived long enough to see the full inversion. What once looked like freedom (hedonism) I now see as slavery. What once looked like denial (celibacy, teetotal, minimalist) I now see as abundance.

I was skint when I wanted hedonism.

Now I'm wealthy I crave only peace.
Hedonism reduces wealth and increases suffering.
Peace increases wealth and reduces suffering.

Weird. Square that circle. Another cosmic joke.

Maybe I’ve transmuted those base desires into higher ones, sublimating the will-to-pleasure into a Nietzschean will-to-power over self? Perhaps it's a simpler case of diminishing marginal utility - you've had 1,000 ice creams - the 1,001st hardly moves the needle?

Maybe I'm wrong? However, this mode of being "feels" synchronously aligned with the overarching ontological cosmic order. At least to me.

To summarize: The “will to sensory pleasure” is endless suffering. The deliberate denial of it is liberation and transcendence of the suffering intrinsic to life.

Update

Not a lot. Despite everything I just wrote, a female companion visited the $70 cave for a rare game of chess. Almost a year since the last one. Underwhelming. She won and I'm a hypocrite. Though it should be mentioned that I'm not looking - it fell on me lap as if cosmically ordained - like the last one.

Defrosted a fridge for the first time in me life. Was kinda interesting - the berg that had formed could've sank the Titanic. Reminds me of a restaurant here by that very name with an emblem of a sinking ship. You have to laugh.

Started trading options - covered calls and cash secured puts. So far so good. My trades likely triggering the next 2008 crisis.

Spent $19,835 in the first three years of early retirement. All in. Everything. The irony is I've made 3x more sat on me arse in paradise during the last 3yrs than I did busting me balls during the previous 7yrs. Shudda read the books (recommended in the last post) as a young man - cudda, wudda, shudda - but muh sensory pleasures.

Did a blood test - all good - 817ng/dL of testosterone - supposedly "elite" for a soon-to-be 52yo.

Deadlifted 150kg for the first time. Double me body weight. Felt great. Took 3 years.

Aussie Mark, late 50s, is on his deathbed. Very sad. Another addition to the long list of top blokes lost out here.

Might have to leave Cambodia next year as they're dicking around with work permits - gutted if this is the case. Fingers crossed there's a way to stay. Laos is Plan B - probably Savanaket - keep ya tap dancing shoes on.

“Wealth is like sea-water; the more we drink, the thirstier we become; and the same is true of fame.” - Schopenhauer

Perhaps the same is true of pleasure? True abundance lies not in wanting more, but in needing less.

Keep on keeping on.