DA BOIS A STRGL EDT

DABOISASTRGLEDT (phrases) – by Ivaniel “Ivo” Georgiev

DABOIS are back for another phrase to unravel. It’s Thursday again, and we’re knee-deep in life’s struggles. If you don’t struggle—what kind of life do you live, hm?

I’m on the struggling ship, heading toward the distant shores of freedom and understanding. And today, we’re getting one step closer to it—though still far from arriving.

I know. Third week in a row. Sixth blog in a row. All about freedom—lately it feels like freedom’s my drug, and I’m jonesing hard.

Some of you might be sick of it. I really hope not. How can anyone get tired of freedom?

Unless, of course, the desire to be free is buried under layers of laws, rules, and personal needs—so deeply that bondage feels more familiar than liberty.

Maybe you’ve chosen it. Maybe it chose you. Either way, I can’t imagine craving anything less than freedom.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about something simple but true: You have to feel free in order to experience freedom.

That thought might also be influenced by the fact that I’m currently on Day 10 of an 11-day water fast… stomach coiling, soul singing, but I’ll talk about that in another blog.

Because here’s the harder truth: No one can be free—no matter how much freedom they’re handed—unless they understand why they want it.

They have to earn it. And just as importantly, they have to prove—at least to themselves—why they wanted it in the first place.

That’s not quick. And it’s definitely not easy.

What intrigues me even more is how that process plays out not just in the individual, but in society. For the individual, it seems tangible: you give something up, you want less, you feel lighter. But what happens when we zoom out?

Society is built on wanting. Some want a little. Some want a lot. And some want everything—even if they can’t use it.

• So where’s the key?
• What is freedom in its perfect form?
• Why is the truly free man actually free?

I believe it lives in the small choices. Especially the ones that allow us to limit ourselves.

Sure—helping an old lady cross the street is great. But what happens if you walk her across, only to go home and waste money on something meaningless? That contrast—those contradictions—are where the truth hides.

That brings us to today’s quote. It’s a bomb dropped by Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche, a Tibetan Buddhist teacher who speaks deeply about non-attachment and mindfulness. I don’t even remember how I came across this one—but when I did, it hit different. It’s longer than the usual phrases I pick—but trust me, the weight it carries is worth it.

“Imagine craving absolutely nothing from the world. Imagine cutting the invisible strings that so painfully bind us: what would that be like? Imagine the freedoms that come from the ability to enjoy things without having to acquire them, own them, possess them. Try to envision a relationship based on acceptance and genuine care rather than expectation. Imagine feeling completely satisfied and content with your life just as it is. Who wouldn’t want this? This is the enjoyment of non-attachment.”

If that doesn’t shift your perspective—at least a little—then I don’t know what will.

Well… except personal pain. Nothing teaches like pain.

But I hope most of us don’t wait for pain to force us into wisdom. That’s a mistake people keep making, and I hope we’re brave enough to break the pattern—though most of the time it’s inevitable.

Desire’s a leash; I was collared, chasing shit I didn’t need. You’re dragging your own chains, too—admit it. But cut them loose, and freedom’s a vibe, a wild-ass breeze that makes you laugh at the hustle. Let’s rip this open—life’s bullshit, the truth we’re too thirsty to sip and little personal example at the end.

Before I dive deeper into today’s theme, I want to thank everyone reading this. Each week, you choose to give a slice of your time to me—and I don’t take that lightly. I hope DABOISASTRGLEDT grows into something bigger: a community built on forgiveness, understanding, and—above all—effort.

So, BOIS and GALS, don’t worry: You’re not the only ones struggling. We’re in this mess together.

Missed a post, or you’re new here; you can always dig into the archives. Last week, I talked—again—about freedom. To be exact about the modern dilemma of freedom. It’s a tricky thing to hold, especially when comfort and security are always calling – Freedom Or Security: The Modern Day Dilemma…

If you’d like more interesting stuff (and some free goodies), make sure to Subscribe to My Newsletter.

Imagine Craving Absolutely Nothing

Freedom isn’t a flag or a paycheck; it’s a vibe, a middle finger to “more.”

Imagine waking up in the morning with no wishlist in your head. No spark of hope for new acquisitions. No effort spent chasing things that will never bring you real satisfaction—whether because you’ve exalted yourself too high… or you’re barely putting in any effort at all.

No inner hunger. No constant noise whispering, “More, more, more.”

Now imagine instead: You’re in a desert. You’ve just discovered an oasis—rare, but real. You’re one step away from collapse… and somehow, peace begins to reign within you. Not because you’ve drunk the precious water, but because you’ve found a singular goal: To stay alive.

And in order to live, you’ll need to endure. You’ll need to suffer a little. But in that struggle, for one rare moment—you are free. Free in the fullness of nothingness.

Not boring. Not empty. Pure.

Because in that space where nothing is needed, you become exactly who you are.

And well—there are so many things we could want. But why do we want them?

• Because someone else has them?
• Because someone we idolise advertises them?
• Because they promise ease, only to be forgotten days later—discarded with the packaging?

Another thought strikes me—a random walk down the street. A city teeming with people. You watch thousands moving, talking, rushing—but this time, you don’t search for what you lack in them. You simply observe.

And in that quiet distance, you start to notice the absurdity: We’re walking around with pixelated dreams. Low resolution ambition, if you will. As if we’re wearing a fifth-diopter lens… without even realising we need glasses.

The humour is in the irony. We’re subconsciously attached to things that offer no real freedom. And while others rush for the newest phone or most expensive jacket, why shouldn’t you enjoy the radical simplicity of not wanting?

This paradoxical path—unwillingness—it could make you feel like a character in a poetic novel. Suddenly, even the mundane becomes magnificent. Even the serious becomes light and tender.

Of course, it’s not easy. But it’s absolutely within reach.

Letting go of desire doesn’t mean becoming numb or hollow. It means seeing the world in its original light.

Every sound. Every breath. Every fleeting second becomes art.

That picturesque nothingness becomes joy itself. Maybe you even find yourself smiling at fate—because you finally understand that there’s no space in life for burdens… especially the ones you place on yourself.

Picture a child who falls and scrapes his knee: first, he cries. Then—almost inexplicably—he smiles. Sometimes it takes longer…but the smile always comes.

So ask yourself: What would your day look like if you wanted nothing? (Or… nothing more than you already have. Let’s taper it down.)

You may find that real enjoyment begins when you’re finally free to be fully yourself, without giving in to illusions, expectations, or artificial needs.

A life of unwillingness is like a street artist’s canvas: on it, every form of liberty can be painted, every distortion turned into beauty.

Maybe you’re not an artist. But I don’t doubt for a second that you can see things others miss.

Freedom is curiosity with a dose of humour. It’s a deep, sincere emotion hidden in small details.

That, I think, is the true magic of non-attachment.

Where Would You Find Fulfilment

Take a moment.

• Where does true fulfilment live?
• Is it buried in the glittering rush of new possessions?
• Or in the endless chase for others’ approval?

Let me echo something I’ve already said—because I deeply believe it: Satisfaction is found within. In the small, ordinary moments we rush past in our race through modern life.

Picture this—the morning sun slipping through your window, its warmth gently waking you.

That’s your first gift of the day.

A reminder: Even simplicity can hold immense joy.

Lao Tzu, that old-school sage, said, “He who knows he has enough is rich.” Here Rinpoche’s game—enjoy without owning, love without clutching—flips the script perfectly.

Satisfaction is in those soft pockets of time when you stop chasing and let life flow through you. Yes, life’s often hectic… but let’s be honest—we’re the ones who make it more so.

Maybe it’s in the unsolicited smile of a stranger, brightening your day like the sun. Or in the laugh of an old man on a park bench, making you wonder: When was the last time I felt that free?

These aren’t small moments. They’re the anchors of happiness. The art of being.

Sometimes, fulfilment shows up simply because you chose to stay present—to breathe in the moment without being carried away by all the things you should be, or should have.

That moment? It will never come back—never like this.

And here’s the irony: The freedom from expectation only arrives when you finally stop placing weightless burdens on your shoulders—the imaginary pressure to always want more.

There’s a strange, bitter truth in all this. Maybe you’re one of those people who wait for the “big moment” to bring meaning. Maybe you even find comfort in disappointment— like it’s familiar now, even though you know it gives you nothing.

But that’s not real satisfaction. That’s settling.

True satisfaction is like espresso—though I don’t drink coffee myself.

But I imagine it: that small cup, warm in your hand, its bitter taste both jarring and pleasant. Energizing. Simple.

When you spend time making quiet connections with the world—listening to rain,
smelling fresh bread, feeling the wind pass over your skin— you begin to understand: Contentment isn’t something you must earn. It’s a gift. But you have to accept it.

As the old joke goes,“Why are you still searching for happiness, when it’s been waiting for you this whole time, just outside the door you never opened?”

Like a symphony in nature, fulfilment doesn’t shout. It whispers— in ordinary moments that have the power to not just change your day, but reshape your life.

So drop the weight of comparisons. Give yourself the grace to enjoy small joys.

Wanting’s a thief; non-attachment’s the heist.

Ask again—Where does true pleasure lie?

It’s inside you. And no one else can awaken it for you—not even the sun.

Smile at your problems. Remember the bad along with the good. Return to those strange decisions you once regretted… and realise: they’ve all led you here.

Satisfaction is a delicate art. The art of solving life’s puzzle—with all its twists, its humour, its unpredictability.

So try. What do you have to lose? Honestly—what could be more important than that?

Would You Be Happy

Happiness is a word I don’t like very much. Some say I sound black-eyed, like I’m lacking joy. I understand why they say it. I just don’t understand why they don’t see what I see.

To me, happiness isn’t about glowing smiles, good vibes, or constant positivity. It’s not about pretending. Happiness is a choice. But more than that—it’s balance. And balance, in its quiet steadiness, brings something deeper than fleeting pleasure.

What people often chase in the name of “happiness” leads, ironically, to disappointment. So many dreams buried, so many desires left vainly echoing—“It should have happened…”

• But what if happiness was never about having more?
• What if it were about the deep sense of meaning that fills every cell of your being?

Imagine happiness as a journey—mysterious, circuitous, marked by unexpected detours. And yes—some of those detours might break you a little. But the lesson in them might just be the thing that makes you happy.

Imagine this: Someone with headphones, dancing wildly down the street. Not caring who’s watching.

To some, he’s crazy. But is he really? Or have we just trained ourselves to mock freedom?

True happiness isn’t measured in possessions. It’s measured in moments lived fully—with your whole being. And those moments are often absurd, unguarded, even foolish-looking from the outside.

Here’s another image: A street artist in worn slippers, painting joy into the grey of a city morning. You smile without knowing why. That’s happiness. No explanation. No logic. Just presence.

To be happy, you don’t need to define it. You just need to feel it. Let it move through you, quietly, like rain on warm pavement.

Happiness comes when you stop thinking it must make sense. When you realise that death, too, is part of the cycle—as natural as the seasons.

So why waste your life worrying about who might judge you? Sooner or later, they’ll all be gone too.

In today’s world, people fill their calendars with seriousness, with plans, with struggles. But sometimes… It’s the jokes that keep us alive. Even the offensive ones. Because if a joke offends you, maybe it’s hitting a part of you that you haven’t made peace with yet.

Society’s thirst trap—more likes, more stuff—steals everything that makes you human.

Happiness is learning to laugh where it hurts. That’s self-acceptance. That’s healing through humour. And honestly—it’s the most enjoyable way to learn who you are.

Because happiness is not a destination. It’s the music playing while you walk the road. Even when you trip. Even when you bleed a little. It’s there, if you let go of your mask—the one that says you need to have it all to be whole.

Real joy comes when you let yourself speak freely, when you share what you’ve hidden behind your ribs. When you allow your weirdness to breathe. And your truth to come out in laughter, in sadness, in dance.

Would you be happy if happiness weren’t something you could buy, but something you lived?

Strange question? Maybe. But maybe it’s the only one that matters. Because nothing bought can ever replace what nature has already built inside you.

Happiness is not perfection. It’s seeing the beauty in the broken. It’s delighting in falling leaves, in awkward metaphors, in the moments life slaps you with meaning you didn’t ask for.

It’s in those private victories. Those weird, beautiful breakdowns. Those times you danced in the rain like no one was watching—and even if they were, you didn’t care.

Happiness lives in the mind and the heart. It’s the freedom to be real. To show your scars. To tell the stories behind them.

Because life, in the end, is a beautiful, chaotic spectacle.

So…Would you be happy?

I hope so. The world could really use more people like that.

And the answer? It’s already in you. Waiting.

More of the World With Less Attachment

Once again, I ask you to imagine a world where getting more out of life begins with asking for less.

Yes, it’s a paradox. But in that paradox lives the truth: the less you carry, the freer you move. It is in the release—from possessions, from expectations, from idealised blueprints—that the true lightness of being begins.

Think of the moment you stop chasing. Stop clinging. Stop believing that happiness lies in the next thing you buy, the next person you impress, the next goal you tick off. Life, in its purest form, is the precious freedom that no fortune can purchase and no history can rewrite.

When you approach life with openness—without the burden of needing it to look a certain way—you start to see the quiet miracles. The small gifts that the world offers constantly, but that we’re usually too distracted to notice.

Now… imagine (yes, again) tossing out your phone. Clearing your shelves. Letting go of the worn-out clothes, the unopened boxes, the unread notifications. All those little things keep you from drifting freely in the river of now.

See what happens. Because what you lose in clutter, you gain in clarity.

The irony, of course, is this: while society teaches us to collect—to hoard, to grasp, to preserve—wisdom teaches us to let go.

To release. To laugh at our own desperate attempts to feel secure in things that can never hold us.

And in that laughter—you may find something far richer than any possession: freedom.

Real, unshackled, wild-eyed freedom. A life unbound by comparison. A mind untethered from the fear of missing out.

It’s funny, isn’t it? We spend years punishing ourselves for not having enough, for not being enough. But in truth, when we carry less, we create space— space for truth, for presence, for fulfilment.

And yes, you might have to fall first. But haven’t you fallen enough already? Hasn’t life thrown you enough signs that chasing more only leads to less of what matters?

So—imagine (for the last time, I promise… maybe)—choosing to live with ease. Not laziness. Not apathy. But that deep, grounded ease that comes from not needing to own the moment in order to feel it.

Every touch becomes more tender. Every joke more vibrant. Every connection more human. Because you’re no longer weighed down by needing life to be anything more than what it already is.

That’s why I talk about humour so often. Because freedom laughs. Freedom lets you laugh—loud, foolishly, joyfully. And laughter is the strongest weapon against malice, materialism, and meaninglessness.

When you learn to live with exactly what you have—to celebrate the imperfect, the simple, the now—you realise that freedom is the most priceless currency in existence.

And it buys you something no amount of money ever could: Peace. Clarity. Joy in the small things.

There’s a paradoxical logic to this “more with less” philosophy—but beyond the logic, there’s a quiet art. A way of life where detachment doesn’t mean giving up, but waking up. Where you don’t have to escape the world, but simply see it differently.

The most beautiful things in life cannot be held. They can only be felt. So let us dare to walk this path—not away from the world, but through it.

Thirst costs your soul. With fewer chains. With lighter hearts. With more of life drawn into every breath.

And maybe, just maybe, if you live like that—you’ll find yourself in a story far greater than any movie ever made.

I’m No Preacher, Nor A Teacher—Just An Observer

But ultimately… what do I know?

I’m not here to give advice. I’m just thinking out loud. Finessing what’s in my head, turning inner noise into something that makes sense—at least to me. Though if you ask others, they will probably say I’m a very dull person—but what do they know? (Who are they to determine my state of being?).

Do I have the answers? I don’t know. And frankly… I don’t care.

Before I go, let me share this one last thing.

If I were a materialist before moving to America, then America upgraded me. The materialist in me evolved—levelled up. There’s Amazon, after all. Next-day delivery. Free trials—cancel before the charge hits. Everything you want, right now. Back home in Bulgaria, you wait three, four days—if you’re lucky (plus everything is so overpriced).

So I bought things. A lot of things. Not because I needed them, but to test if the ads were true. To see if all that stuff would make my life better. Some of it worked. Most of it didn’t. Most of it was just mass-produced noise—created for profit, not people.

Roy and I once took a cross-country trip—from LA to Ocean City, Maryland. We packed the Camry to its limit—eighty per cent of what we stuffed into it was mine.

A year later, I had a minivan—that was a relief. I filled it to the brim, too, but at least everything fit.

Another year, another move—this time to New York. Another car too. I had a Hyundai Sonata then—dimensions probably the same as the Toyota Camry. I could barely fit my life inside. I couldn’t even see the right side mirror. I was driving blind, crammed between boxes, praying my spatial awareness would get me to the city alive.

That’s when I’d had enough.

I thought I was living large, but no; I was a slave to Amazon’s “Add to Cart.” Wanting’s a leash, yanking you toward fake-ass dreams—new phone, new fit, new life, right? Bullshit.

That’s why I asked Roy before leaving the US to either sell my stuff—maybe you, whatever he finds useful—and/or give the rest to charity.

Truth is my hoard was my leash; freedom’s my laugh.

So I made a vow: no more materialism. Because the glow of a new purchase fades fast. Because even the things I used—I rarely used fully, consciously, experientially.

So let’s stop. Let’s stop being materialists. Let’s stop being slaves to a system that thrives on our unfulfillment. Let’s choose better. Let’s choose truth, purpose, and honesty.

I believe I can. And I believe you can, too.

Imagine

To want nothing is exquisitely beautiful,
Detachment more sublime than desire’s throne.
Yet like a fog, freedom remains dutiful—
Noise and screens parade of ugly-plastic hope.

Where is true pleasure, unadorned and pure?
Where does silent satisfaction choose to hide?
Perhaps, another shelter-soul—like me, unsure?
Maybe in its private space between the thighs?

Happiness avoids those who fail to see
That balance is the molecule of the sea.
The world gives much in quiet decree—
The rest is waste, packaged as fantasy.

Imagine a world unconstrained and free—
but do you see yourself with truly spread wings?
Irony breeds—brave paradox, a dream;
She’s a stepmother to those who confess their sins.

I’m a thirsty fool, but free to bend. So then again, you ain’t your thirst or your traps. You’re the vibe you live now.

If you’re like me—overwhelmed by the noise—maybe it’s time to start subtracting instead of adding. That’s what we do here, at DABOIS.

Thanks for the grind!

Yours sincerely,
Ivaniel “The Man with Imagination” Georgiev