Crossing the Möbius Threshold
One of a kind, once in a lifetime
Life is a Möbius strip; every ending, a beginning. Nietzsche, one of the great heralds of modern thought, called this eternal recurrence. While most see time as linear, he argued instead that it was revolutionary—like spinning plates.
Given the revolutionary nature of existence, our real power lies in how we break from—or embrace—revolution. Likewise, man's revolutionary potential is found not in idleness, but in his striving. Yet few dare to attempt it. Indeed, most dismiss this existential 'gauntlet' as unnecessary, settling instead for an easy life—content with mediocrity.
Here, the highest essence reveals itself to him—but only if he catches the nuanced intimation that hints at it. Fortunately, one can sharpen their sensibilities enough to notice when the threshold opens. Time, by its very nature, is revolutionary, and so is man's potential—if he can stay in rhythm.
Introducing The Revolutionary Practice
This demands a revolutionary practice—one of unearthing and harnessing primal energy through focus and discipline, where intuition propels us toward breakthrough. But initiation is dependent on a trigger event—one that forces transformation. We might call this the Great Noon—a juncture where past, present, and future converge.
In this moment, man sees himself as he is now, as he was when a child, and even as progenitor—all in a single frame. The great noon can be induced willfully, though more often than not, it arises from circumstance—through anomaly or trauma. It is a crucible, a moment where man reckons with all he has been and all he will ever be.
Though trauma often marks the loss of innocence, what comes in its stead is a power that, once harnessed, can unleash a man's revolutionary potential and renew him throughout.
The Great Noon
For me, Noon came early on the morning of September 2nd, 2022—just a few weeks before my birthday. I'd dreamt of thick red, the kind that bled, hemorrhaging, foreshadowing what would follow. A knock at the door. Tense, ominous, indifferent.
A police officer, there to tell me what no one should have to hear. My father had suffered a near-fatal accident. Paralyzed from the neck down, his body no longer his own. He's been on that same hospital bed ever since.
I'd ruptured. Shattered. And in that breaking, something came over me—someone took over. I saw her, revealed in all her majesty. She'd been there all along, but tragedy had forced my eyes to her. Grace—and she would guide me through the fire. I had crossed the threshold—but what I'd do next would define the trajectory of my life.
Because of all I had faced before, I saw nuance in tragedy—what appeared as calamity was in fact fate and will converging. My green days were over. I was initiated—ready to step into my revolutionary practice.
Renewal through Redemption
To harness this power, I began to examine every aspect of my life—how I moved, how I thought, where I would go, what I would wear, what I would eat, and who I would befriend. Nothing was spared. I realized that at this rate, my output could never match my ambitions. A purge soon followed—and all bridges were burned.
It took no less than a year before I truly understood how deeply rooted my disbelief was—and still is. Even now, I resolve this publicly as I speak to you. If I admit this to you, nothing can hold me. So here goes. I am the son of a fatherless generation, shaped by hundreds of years of subjugation—conditioned by fear, intimidation, extortion, and violence.
Psilocybin experimentation revealed the profound historical forces to which I am subject.
I am no heir. Were I to die today, I would surely be forgotten. I can bear no claim to the means of production; all I have ever known is wage slavery. All my efforts have served others' ends, never my own. Rage is all I possess. This ire is endemic to my kind—manifesting either as acquiescence in the form of expressed neoteny or as foolish pride.
I recall qualifying venture capital firms when one, in particular, stood out—it featured an image of a dog on its website. His name was Paco. Lovable. Gullible. Loyal. The insinuation was undeniable—predicated upon ethnicity, a tacit commentary on how Latins are perceived. In that moment, I saw myself reflected in that image—not in defiance, but in submission.
Was this how the vanguard perceived the race? Worse—was this how I had come to see myself?
I had no other choice but to cultivate a sense of inevitability.
Myth in Motion
I reject the idea that I am defined solely by my circumstances and upbringing. It is the recognition that we always have a choice: to accept the world as it is or to move heaven and earth to reshape it in our image. Stepping into the fire, I undertake a sort of physio-pyrography, searing the imago of my ideal onto the Möbius strip. This process demands change—not just in my environment, but of my very being.
While most consider a move to catalyze their grindset, I don't find it necessary. Truth be told, I could move to the city like so many others have to chase their dreams, but the thought of paying a landlord my hard-earned money just doesn't make sense. Two more things: the city is a short drive away, and still, I worry about leaving my mother and father to fend for themselves.
So instead, the change I make will start right here in this very room—I am transforming this space into a home office studio, a place that reflects not only where I want to go but the legacy I'd like to build.
House Agustín
This locale will be the first iteration of what I call House Agustín—a place where industry, innovation, and vision take form, where I can freely exercise my right to self-determination and engage in revolutionary practice.
I've been working on this piece for years and finally put the proverbial pen to paper just a few days ago, writing this in a matter of 72 hours. What comes next is something I've long desired, yet always restrained myself from doing—until now.
Soon after publishing this manifesto, I'll take to transforming this space to develop the foundation of House Agustín as a crucible of revolutionary practice.
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