A101: 100 Articles Documenting & Experiencing Self-Discovery Through the Lens of the Other

Preface

After publishing [[A100 Watching ā€œBlossoms Shanghaiā€]](Click here to view), I manually thanked several friends—among them, one conversation stood out as particularly interesting:

  • Friend: ā€œIt feels kind of terrifying to expose my personal information and inner thoughts in front of 5,000 strangers—I don’t even know who they are.ā€
  • Me: ā€œI’ve thought about this too, which is why I choose not to post many things.ā€
  • Friend: ā€œI think you’ve already posted quite a lot! :grinning_face_with_smiling_eyes: You’re clearly emotionally resilient.ā€

I suspect many people have never tried observing themselves from an objective, third-person perspective. So, taking this opportunity, I’d like to explain how I do it—and why it’s beneficial.

Main Text

As mentioned three years ago in [[A003 The Cruelty and Pleasure of Self-Dissection]](Click here to view):

ā€œEvery time I confront my own inner world, I repeatedly experience a sense of panic.ā€

We’re all deeply familiar with experiencing and interacting with the world through our five senses—sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch—and often apply the same sensory lens to ourselves: seeing our bodies, hearing our voices, smelling our surroundings, touching our skin.

Beyond these physical senses lies another channel of perception: mind (yi). We sense our bodies—not just physically, but subjectively: pain, itching, warmth, cold, comfort. These sensations are also familiar to most of us.

Yet our capacity to perceive mind remains underdeveloped. With practice, however, you can become aware of your emotions and thoughts: Am I feeling unhappy right now? Why? What do I want to do to resolve this unhappiness?

ā€œDissecting my own thoughts—feeling ideas arise one after another, then vanish again, like turbulent waves.

As I write, I feel them; I observe them—as if standing by a river watching bubbles rise from fish mouths: a string of thoughts emerges, then pops, one after another.ā€
——[[A003 The Cruelty and Pleasure of Self-Dissection]]

At this point, you’ll understand what the title means: What does it feel like to know yourself from an objective, third-person perspective?

Like in Ted Chiang’s ā€œThe Truth of Fact, the Truth of Feelingā€ (often misattributed to ā€œExhalationā€ā€”note: the quoted passage is adapted from ā€œExhalationā€, though its thematic essence aligns closely with Chiang’s exploration of self-observation):

ā€œIf I’d realized this elsewhere, I would’ve leapt up from my chair and dashed into the street. But given my current situation—my body locked rigidly in a fixed support frame, my brain suspended separately throughout the lab—that was impossible. I could see my own clamorous thoughts causing the delicate leaves of my brain to whirl rapidly—a sight that only deepened my anxiety about this state of confinement. Panic at such a moment could prove fatal: trapped in a nightmare-like paralysis while involuntarily thrashing against restraints until my air ran out. Unconsciously or deliberately, my hand adjusted the control lever, shifting the periscope’s field of view away from the grid structure and onto the workbench surface. No longer observing or magnifying my own panic, I calmed down. Once composed again, I began the long, meticulous process of reassembling myself. Finally, I restored my brain to its original compact configuration, sealed the skull, and freed myself from the support frame.ā€

We can’t literally dissect our brains to examine neural pathways—but we can absolutely adopt the perspective of looking down at ourselves from the ceiling, observing our own thoughts as they unfold.

And this very act of observation has a calming effect. In [[A100 Watching ā€œBlossoms Shanghaiā€]](Click here to view), I listed several methods that help me settle my mind:

ā€œThey’re waiting for me—and I’m waiting for them. To ground myself, I rely on watching films—just as music, cooking, tea-brewing, or cleaning house helps me calm down. Doing any of these things lets me quiet my mind; only then can I truly savor their subtle depths. And afterward, that lingering sense of insight fills the hollow space inside me.ā€

This kind of intentional, introspective writing—this conscious dissection of one’s own consciousness—is one such method. Just doing it brings me calm—and joy, and deep enjoyment.

Moreover, this process allows me to examine myself thoroughly: calmly, objectively, and neutrally reviewing events I’ve experienced and my reactions to them. It’s an excellent opportunity for reflection.

Also, sharing these writings publicly extends tactile ā€œfeelersā€ outward—creating friction with the world. We all want good friends; we all want to chat with friends. But if we never speak up, how can we meet true friends—or ever hold meaningful conversations with them? Every post I publish instantly becomes a conversational thread between me and my friends.

As for whether exposing so much of oneself is dangerous: As noted above, this entire process involves deep, deliberate reflection. If I’m wrong, I admit it openly and honestly; if I’m not, then I have nothing to hide—and fear no one’s criticism. I can affirm with absolute certainty: everything I write is authentically me. How I write reflects exactly how I think—and what I endorse. It is fearless.

Postscript

The friend from the Preface also said something else I found fascinating—so I’ll share it with you all:

ā€œSticking with anything long enough to hit Ɨ100 is seriously cool!ā€

Writing this public account is one of the few things I’ve sustained consistently for a long time. Since completing [[A001 Using Creation to Combat Nihilism]](Click here to view) on August 30, 2023, I’ve been at it for one kun-year (a playful term meaning ā€œa full yearā€). These 100 posts vary in length and tone—some serious, some lighthearted, and yes, quite a few ā€œcoastingā€ pieces—but I’ve genuinely enjoyed writing every single one. That’s precisely why I’ve managed to reach 100.

Every cool person looks cool because they truly love what they do.

Because anyone earnestly pursuing what they love naturally radiates an aura.

I hope you, too, can become someone truly cool.