Abstemius
Abstemius | /æbˈstiː.mi.əs/ | noun
Abstemius means abstinent in Latin. It represents the practice of self-discipline and restraint in pursuit of clarity and focus.
This chapter explores how moderation and intentional denial of excess can sharpen both mind and body, ensuring that indulgence does not become a form of control.
Abstention and Sobriety
The Lie of the Numbed Mind
They want you dulled. Slowed. Dazed just enough that you don’t see the edges of the cage they are building around you. They will encourage your distractions. They will give you vices. They will make it easy—so easy—to slip into a haze where none of this feels quite real. Don’t fall for it.
There is a reason oppressive regimes always make sure the liquor flows freely. A reason why addiction rates spike when people feel powerless. A reason why they would rather have you chasing oblivion than looking them in the eye and seeing them for what they are.
A numb mind is a defenseless mind. And you? You cannot afford to be defenseless.
Why Sobriety is a Survival Skill
This is not about moral purity. This is not about judgment. This is about control. Ask yourself: who has control over you, who benefits when your judgment is impaired, who is counting on you being too out-of-it to fight back? A sober mind is a sharp mind. And a sharp mind? Well, that is the last thing they want you to have!
Sobriety is not just about substances. It is about anything that blurs your instincts, weakens your judgment, or makes you easy to manipulate. That includes:
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The drink that makes you drop your guard.
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The pills that dull your fight response.
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The endless scroll that keeps you pacified.
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The media that keeps you confused and afraid.
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The routine that keeps you too exhausted to question anything.
You don’t have to live in a fog just because they want you to.
What Happens When You Stay Clear-Headed
When you refuse to be dulled, you become dangerous. You see the game for what it is. You recognize before it takes hold. You learn to trust your own instincts. You regain control over your own story. And, perhaps most importantly: You make your own decisions, rather than letting them be made for you.
First Task: Choosing Clarity Over Comfort
This world will tempt you with escape. It will offer you a hundred ways to check out, to numb yourself, to surrender to something easier than awareness. You must choose differently.
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Identify your crutches. What are you using to escape, and why?
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Decide what you will no longer give power over you. What dulls your instincts? What slows your reaction time?
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Practice staying present. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable.
"Beware lest in your anxiety to avoid war
you obtain a master." — Demosthenes
Historical Reflection
Simone Weil
Simone Weil lived in a world that worshipped excess—power, wealth, indulgence—but she refused it all. A French philosopher, activist, and mystic, she believed clarity of thought and moral purpose could only be achieved through simplicity. To her, indulgence was not just about food or material wealth; it was any excess that dulled the mind and distanced people from truth. Where others saw deprivation, she saw liberation.
Born in 1909 into a privileged intellectual family in Paris, Weil’s brilliance was undeniable. She mastered classical languages, philosophy, and mathematics, earning a place at the prestigious École Normale Supérieure. But she did not seek the comforts that came with status. Instead, she pursued truth, stripped of illusion. She saw luxury as a distraction and indulgence as a sedative, numbing people into complacency. So, she lived with deliberate restraint—wearing plain clothes, refusing elaborate meals, walking instead of taking transport. These were not acts of suffering but of sharpening her mind, strengthening her will, and seeing the world with unclouded eyes.
Weil did not believe in intellectualism detached from reality. To understand the suffering of workers, she took a job in a factory, enduring the same brutal conditions as those she wrote about. To understand war, she joined the Spanish Civil War as a medic, refusing to stay on the sidelines as a mere observer. To understand faith, she lived among the poor, embracing simplicity not as self-denial, but as a means of staying awake. She argued that indulgence—whether in luxury, social prestige, or mindless consumption—lulled people into passivity. Excess was a form of sedation, a way to avoid discomfort, injustice, and the raw truth of existence.
She wrote extensively about the dangers of unchecked pleasure, not from a place of moral condemnation, but from a deep conviction that moderation was the key to freedom. To control one’s desires was to control one’s mind. To reject indulgence was to see the world as it truly was. She did not believe in suffering for its own sake, but in stripping away the noise, the clutter, the unnecessary distractions that kept people from engaging fully with life.
Weil’s life proved that deliberate moderation is not weakness, but power. She was not forced into poverty. She did not suffer from deprivation. She chose simplicity as a means to remain sharp, present, and untouchable. In a world that encourages indulgence as escape, Weil serves as a reminder: restraint is not punishment—it is clarity. Abstinence is not about loss—it is about control. And the one who masters desire is the one who remains truly free.