In The Beginning

Who controls the past controls the future; who controls the present controls the past. -George Orwell, 1984

Despite my failure to regularly update this blog, my latest endeavors require that I express cogent thoughts on a topic that has held my fascination for the past several years. Old visitors to this space know that I have a keen interest in the flow of global capital, a penchant for technology, and a love for exploring various states of consciousness. Since 2013, I have had the good fortune to attend several silent meditation retreats, and have cultivated a habit for the ritual of focused awareness. In the past year and with the aid of some technology, I have begun producing EEG signals from my sessions, and have a new data driven view into the process of cultivating insight. Unintentionally, the persistent attempt to deepen my understanding of reality has coincided with a remarkable improvement in my financial situation, though in hindsight, this seems logical if not utterly coincidental (more on this later).

With all this in mind, I wish to share with all those who might read, the tale of my recent past as best as I can remember it. My hope for this exercise? An unvarnished journal of the truth so I can hold myself accountable, come what may. Having built a remarkable albeit unoriginal intellectual edifice on some admittedly questionable if not outright empirically unverifiable experiences, the time has come to seek the ever important views of friends and strangers alike. May the peer review of my findings begin, and I sincerely appreciate the time and effort you invest herein.

At present, binaural theta beats accompany the polyrythmic tappings of my ThinkPad as the drone of I-5 traffic punctuated by shouts in Cantonese from the moist street below fills my ears. Despite the thermostat clicking on at 75, the room feels chilly with the hue of blue LED, marginally mollified by a stale yellow glow from the overhead artificial sun. I sit in a creaky 1960’s wooden chair, emancipated at little cost from the local Goodwill, hellbent on preparing a petite presentation on the value of meditation when engaging in financial speculation. This self inflicted pain-in-the-butt seems a necessary prerequisite to whatever else my future holds. Public speaking had never appeared relevant to my professional or personal interests, but for whatever reason, I cannot seem to shake the desire to share my views on a critical ally in the war for financial independence.


Having studied the usual strategies and tactics in the battle for investment survival, it seems increasingly obvious that many agents engaged in the fight for alpha find themselves mired in particulars without an appreciation for the universal. Traders, investors, pundits and academics alike find no lack of ammo when they arm themselves with indicators, ratios, feeds and forecasts, but this only produces no-man’s land for those who mistake tactics for strategy. While it seems unlikely that I could speak for everyone, I suspect that the struggle to produce meaningful returns over one’s lifetime can find a simpler expression in the desire for peace of mind.