Quote:
Originally Posted by YGOchamp
I don't mean this offensively, but there's a big difference of being the best/feared as a 100/200nl endboss compared to a 3/5 crusher.
The same can be said to the company at the table. I've found in bigger games there's significantly more people I actually want to be around that make it a pleasant experience.
O for sure, I'm definitely not even close to being able to compete at the higher levels for many reasons (bankroll, lack of passion, lack of desire to think about numbers all day, not wanting to live any more high variance then I have to). It's not even in my realm of comprehension how much work these guys put in to study the math behind the game. Beyond 5/T/20, the stress is a bit too much for my little sensitive body to handle. I wouldn't want that energy in my life.
I just don't really see the point in being the best at poker any more. I used to want to be the best player in the world but I don't see the point in it now. It's not fulfilling. The stress from living a high variance life leads to sickness and disease. Having adrenaline and cortisol and testosterone flowing endlessly through the body leads to myriad mental, emotional, and physical issues.
I used to idolize the great players. Now, I look at them and feel real pity. The real smart ones get out of the game when they've made their money and put it into real estate, business, stocks, etc. They realize the real game is money, and not poker. And actually the real game is just pussy. Everything we do as men is subconsciously connected to pussy. Once we can get pussy and realize we don't need millions to prove our worth to anyone, the allure of the poker dream just starts fading. Poker is just seen for what it is -- an intellectual and psychological war. Why go to war when you can get pussy? I go to war to print money, but I'm not happy about having to crush souls to do it. But it's the world we live in.
"100/200nl endboss" -- if that's somebody's main goal in life, I feel really bad for them. Is there any satisfaction once you become an "endboss"? I'd rather live a really simple life in nature with few possessions. I'd rather spend time swimming in the ocean, and dancing, and understanding/gaming women, and having a sense of purpose beyond myself, being part of something whole like we've always been, but just forgot. Look at the faces of the endbosses, the guys who have put their blood, sweat, and tears into the game, and know nothing else. They aren't genuinely happy faces for the most part. Their lives are a struggle, they're constantly in conflict, their edge is never enough. I'd rather not be in hyper-competitive environments if I don't need to.
If you need examples, listen to what some of the pros say. Viffer said something like, "I would trade my entire net worth for a chance at a normal life." Look at Dan Colman's face after he wins that huge tournament. It's sadness. Afterwards, people shame him for not being happy and then he says poker is a dark game, and everybody goes after him like he's a criminal. This is what honesty gets you in this game.
There's a Taoist saying that says something like "when you get to the top, that's the time to cry and feel sad." There's no happiness in climbing to the top; there's only one way to go. And once you get to the top in our capitalist society, you just get more predators chasing after you and asking you to sell your soul for a few more pieces of paper, a little bit of fame, and pussy. In the poker world, once you become somewhat famous, you just get to sponsor casinos and online sites, and get to sit in rooms where they advertise for vapes and alcohol and sports to keep people distracted and numb and passionate about the most selfish things. Sports take over God as the religion of the land. Violence is encouraged and peace is laughed at. People try to find purpose in supporting a team, like somehow the drama of the team's ups and downs gives them a sense of being part of something bigger and gives them something to talk about. Poker pros get to be shills, encouraging more amateurs to join the game because the ones that entered already have mostly gone broke or have stopped playing. You have to give off the facade that living the fast life and being flush with cash and buying cars and houses and going to parties and gambling for a living is the best type of life. You have to live a lie.
The happiest people I know are monks who literally have nothing. They are beggars. But the smiles and the light radiating from their being is something beyond this world.
"Climbing the stakes" is really unattractive to me now. Sure, I'll play bigger games if I feel like I have an edge, but I don't play them to somehow fill a hole inside me that thinks if I'm playing for bigger amounts, I must be a better player or a better human being. I used to think this way. But after spending many years mostly away from the game and living a relatively healthy lifestyle for quite little money, I see poker players, especially the grinders, and just feel sad for them. Losing themselves in drugs, alcohol, addictions. Feeling really empty, but having to act all tough and big. I feel sad for myself sometimes that this is the game I got good at.
Psychedelics, traveling, and meditation have really changed my views on money and capitalism and the United States and media. The system we're in warps our priorities. We chase pieces of paper and numbers of the screen to fill the lack of self-esteem we have. We're used as cogs in the machine and we want to escape the machine, but it's nearly impossible to escape without manipulating the machine to churn out pieces of paper and numbers on the screen.
Still, poker is my main source of income so I have many moral dilemmas. I'm not a perfect human. I don't have life figured out. But all I know is getting really good at poker to make myself feel good about myself is no longer a priority.
Last edited by spirit123; 04-03-2018 at 01:44 PM.
