The Doctrine of Measured Instinct by Jonas Johansen aka @Lucekeen

“There is a beast in every man that should be exercised, not exorcised.“ As goes the famous quote by Anton Szandor LaVey.

We were not born clean. We were born hungry, desirous, and cruel — yet also capable of temperance, curiosity, and awe. Civilization's mistake has always been to shame the creature, instead of teaching it. It preaches restraint, but breeds repression. It tells men to deny their instincts, and then wonders why they explode.

Temptation cannot be fought by denial; only by discipline. Every instinct must move, but it must move under your command. When the mind learns to detach from its carnal side, the body still hungers — but the hunger no longer owns you.

Greed should be defied. Let it roar, but never let it feed without restraint. It is the hand that clutches until it forgets what it was grasping for. Ask yourself, “When is enough, enough?”, It never is.

Lust should be fought. It is not love, only the echo of biology. If you cannot love one for their naked soul, you should not have their naked body. Lust is an insincere emotion that will blind the weak.

Gluttony should be repelled, for appetite unmeasured turns pleasure into decay. It dulls the senses, enslaves the will, and cheapens pleasure itself. The act of overindulgence, does more harm than good, but instinct is hard to fight. Furthermore it is ungrateful, but I digress.

Gratitude, however, should be rewarded — it is the only virtue born from balance rather than abstinence. Defying the “taking without appreciation” is among one of the truest acts of rebellion and a sign of an honest man. Savoring not devouring — For pleasures need not further amplifications.

Envy and jealousy are misunderstood twins. Jealousy must be expressed — it speaks of attachment, of care twisted by fear. Envy must be repressed — it poisons admiration into rot.

Sloth and pride, though damned by priests, are merely the body and soul asking for balance. Sloth guards against pointless struggle; pride preserves the dignity that keeps a man from kneeling to everything louder than himself.

The seven sins, are not crimes against heaven but necessity unchained.

Learn to ride the beast, not to kill it. The doctrine is simple: - To measure instinct is to master it. - To master it is to remain human in a world that worships the extremes — saints too soft to survive, and sinners too blind to see.

Written by Lucekeen Registered Member of the Church of Satan

The Inverse Doctrine: A Satanic Take on Christianity

Introduction

We've all heard the same Christian tales: Satan is evil, the deceiver, the one who drags you into temptation—a great sin, they say. Mention “Satanism,” and most people immediately picture a scene out of a bad horror movie: dark robed cultists in candlelight, goat blood in chalices, pentagrams on the floor, and infant sacrifices. That image couldn't be further from the truth. In reality, Satanism is an atheistic philosophy—there are no gods, no devils, no spirits. Satan is a symbol, not a being.

The Truths Many Fail to See

If you read closely, it's not Satan who lies—it's God. The supposed “Heaven” is no paradise, but a deceptively attractive cage built on submission and fear. In Christianity, you're a pawn on God's chessboard, expected to kneel, obey, and dedicate every breath to him, hoping for a pass into eternal servitude after death. A bleak existence, just to strum harps for eternity, don't you think?

Satan, by contrast, represents truth, freedom, pleasure, and self-empowerment. He's the liberator, the questioner, the embodiment of individuality. Satan stands for indulgence over abstinence, pride over humility, reason over blind faith. The “seven deadly sins” aren't sins at all—they're human instincts. To deny them is to deny yourself.

The Invisible Christian Indoctrination

Christians call their god “all-loving,” “all-powerful,” and “all-knowing.” But if that's true, then he consciously created a world of suffering, filled with flawed beings—knowing full well they'd fail. Then, in one of history's strangest plots, he sends himself down as Jesus to die for sins he himself engineered, using guilt and blood to demand worship. It's not salvation—it's emotional blackmail. A master manipulator's trick wrapped in divine branding.

Satan doesn't tempt through malice; he tempts through nature. He invites humanity to live, not kneel. If Hell is the price for freedom, then Hell is the honest realm, where people think, act, and feel without pretense. Heaven, on the other hand, must be filled with the strangest sorts—those who spent their lives terrified of their own instincts.

The Bible, for all its supposed divinity, is a patchwork of contradictions. It glorifies slavery, war, and submission while conveniently leaving out inconvenient truths—about Lucifer's real nature, evolution, pre-human history, lost scriptures, and the Nephilim. It's less a holy text than a centuries-long instrument of control, rewritten to suit whoever held the throne or the pulpit.

My Thoughts

The real mess is the indoctrination of children. Faith is handed down like a family heirloom, not chosen through reflection. The system doesn't survive on truth—it survives on fear, guilt, and obedience enforced by culture, law, and tradition.

It's a cycle that shapes people's entire worldview, shutting down curiosity before it even sparks. And this is precisely where Satanism stands apart: it demands questioning, reasoning, and choosing for oneself. It doesn't want followers—it wants thinkers.

Satanism as the Patcher

Anton LaVey saw what the world had become—a landscape of dying religions, moral hypocrisy, and guilt-ridden lives. So he built something new. Satanism was never meant to enslave minds, but to free them. No imaginary gods. No eternal punishments. Just self-awareness, self-rule, and personal responsibility.

LaVeyan Satanism promotes Pentagonal Revisionism, a five-point vision for an ideal society:

1. Stratification — No false equality; let strength and ability rise naturally. 2. Taxation of all churches — No sacred exemptions. 3. No tolerance for religious influence in law — Keep belief out of governance. 4. Development of artificial human companions — Freedom from biological and social limits. 5. Right to live in the desired environment — With absolute respect for chosen order and adherence.

My Last Summarizing Say

To put it plainly, Christianity is an outdated, self-contradictory ideology rewritten by human hands to sanitize its own violence and oppression. Satanism, while not meant for the masses, offers a far more honest philosophy—one that prioritizes the mind, body, and will of the individual.

Disclaimer

If this resonates with you, remember: Satanism is not worship. It's study, understanding, and self-realization. We don't recruit, we don't convert. Anton LaVey himself encouraged exploration of all religions before making any commitment. Satanism isn't about numbers or influence—it's about awareness, strength, and freedom.

Written by Lucekeen Registered Member of the Church of Satan

My Voice Isn't Yours to Demand

Selective mutism isn't a choice — it's a reaction. It's the mind saying no in a world that expects yes on command.

I'm not quiet. I'm full of unspoken words, thoughts, and shouts that no one hears because they expect them to come out of my mouth. People judge me by what I don't say, never realizing how much I wish I could say.

Many assume selective mutism is a decision — that someone is simply too shy or unwilling to speak. That's far from the truth. My best friend didn't understand Selective Mutism so I'm going to try and explain it from my own perspective.

Selective (Situational) Mutism

Many of us dislike the term Selective Mutism because it sounds like we choose when to talk. Some prefer Situational Mutism, which better reflects reality.

Imagine trying to move a third leg — you can't, because your brain doesn't know how. Speaking is very similar: it's automatic, until suddenly, the wire that makes it possible gets cut. That's what mutism feels like — a total disconnect between intention and action.

It's not stubbornness. It's a freeze response triggered by deep anxiety. The most effective treatment tends to be Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), which retrains the brain to react differently in the challenged situations.

My Experience

Selective mutism affects me every day. With close family, I can usually talk. In grocery stores, I might manage a few mumbled words. In school or unfamiliar places, my voice disappears entirely — it's as if my lips seal and my throat cluthces.

It even prevents me from speaking foreign languages, likely because of the anxiety around making mistakes or having an accent. I can't talk to myself out loud and sometimes I can't even think in words. Even when speech is possible, pressure or fear can block it. It feels like a cage tightening inside my mouth.

I can usually sense whether I'll be able to speak by noticing a kind of emptiness in my body. Sometimes I lose the ability to say one particular word, which forces me to pause, stutter, or swap it for another I can say. It's as if my brain runs my thoughts through a faulty filter and tries to silence me.

For nearly three years, my municipal support worker never heard my voice. My current one hasn't either. My best friend of four years, my teachers, my dentist — none of them have ever heard me speak. Only my immediate family and maybe NASA's radar dishes have.

Selective mutism isn't genetic — it's psychological. It often develops from ongoing anxiety, stress, or trauma, and like most psychological conditions, it's hard to understand unless you live with it.

Advice for Others

Wearing a Hidden Disabilities Sunflower lanyard and carrying a matching ID card can help others recognize that you have difficulty speaking. It's a subtle way to communicate your needs without words. Stick close to people you trust — family, friends, or support workers — and use tools like a phone, notebook, text-to-speech (TTS), or AAC app to express yourself.

Try to avoid overwhelming situations or simply look occupied if you don't want to be approached. If things get too stressful, it's okay to step away and take time to recover. Gestures, nods, and facial expressions all count as communication — and they're just as valid.

Personally, I don't socialize much and rarely go out. Everyone around me already knows about my condition. When I do leave home, I bring my essentials: my lanyard, ID card, phone, and notebook. I study at a vocational school for young people with disabilities, where understanding comes easily. I use my phone to communicate and mostly keep to myself. Some might call that isolation — I call it peace. It's the way I live best.

Neurodivergent Struggles

Living as a neurodivergent person is far from simple. Everyday life can feel like walking through fog—communication hurdles, sensory overload, social pressure, and executive dysfunction can pile up fast. The world is designed for neurotypical brains, leaving many of us constantly adapting just to keep pace. People often romanticize autism as some quirky fascination with dinosaurs or being strange, but that's missing the point entirely. Autism is a neurological disability—a real one—and it deserves understanding, not mystification.

"Disability" Isn't a Dirty Word

The word disability isn't an insult. It simply means an impaired or reduced ability in certain areas. That doesn't make anyone less capable, less intelligent, or less human—it just means we function differently. And within those differences, strengths can grow. Accepting your disabilities instead of fighting them gives you freedom. When you stop pretending to be neurotypical, you start living authentically—and you learn what kind of support truly helps.

Diagnosis – Freeing, Not Limiting

A diagnosis isn't a cage—it's a key. It gives shape to confusion, words to the silent battles, and access to understanding and resources. When I was diagnosed, everything finally made sense. I stopped blaming myself for what I couldn't control. My diagnosis helped me find better help, gain self-awareness, and most importantly, develop real self-respect. It wasn't the end—it was the start of knowing myself.

Seeing the World Differently

Neurodivergent minds perceive reality through a different lens. We notice details others overlook, form strange yet profound connections, and often think in creative, layered ways. Being different doesn't mean being wrong. Our brains are wired in their own rhythm—autistic brains, for example, have been found to undergo less synaptic pruning, leaving us with more connections between neurons. That's why we may feel, sense, and think more intensely. It's a double-edged sword: both a gift and a burden.

The Myth of Superpowers

It's easy to call neurodivergence a “superpower.” Sometimes it does feel that way—special interests, strong focus, deep patience, a love of routine, or morbid curiosity can feel like unique advantages. But it's not all glowing light and inspiration. The struggles are real, and romanticizing them erases their weight. It's not a superpower—it's a different operating system, one that runs hot and sometimes overheats.

Strengths and Weaknesses

Curiosity is my core. I love building and fixing things, tending gardens, organizing systems, and understanding how the world ticks. My interests stretch from philosophy and law to programming, OSINT, and game development. I find beauty in obscure animal facts and the fine gears of human systems. But I also stumble—I struggle with speech, memory, idioms, and social interaction. My perception sometimes misfires; I experience visual distortions and illusions, likely tied to that dense neural wiring. I can be blunt, defensive, or stuck in initiation. But it's all part of the same circuitry that makes me me.

Neurodivergence isn't a curse or a blessing. It's a way of being—a different rhythm in the orchestra of humanity. When we stop trying to tune ourselves out, the music finally makes sense.

The Atheistic Prevail

In the late 1800s, the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche shook the grounds of Europe. Between 1883 and 1885, he published his groundbreaking novel 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra', in which he introduced the concept of the 'Übermensch'—a German term meaning “Overman” or “Superman.”

Nietzsche recognized the decline of religion and faith as industrialization, science, and secular thinking rose to dominance. He saw that, without a spiritual compass, humanity would face a crisis of meaning and fall into nihilism—a state of great existential despair. It was in this context that he wrote his famous declaration: “Gott ist tot”—“God is dead.”

In 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra', Nietzsche proposed the Übermensch as a response to this collapse. Humanity, he argued, could become its own meaning—creating value through creativity, will, and pride. The world would no longer need commandments handed down from heaven, but rather creators who forge their own paths. In this, Nietzsche sought to replace the fading light of faith with the fire of human potential.

The Evolution of Meaning

Nietzsche's philosophical arc can be simplified as follows:

• Atheism is disbelief.
• Nihilism is the collapse of meaning.
• Satanism embraces nihilism—not through abstinence, but through indulgence.
• Übermensch is the rebirth of meaning through will and creativity.

Or, more simply: “Nothing matters.” → “Then I shall matter.”

From Nietzsche to LaVey

Nietzsche's mission was to rebuild morality after the death of God. Decades later, Anton LaVey, a showman and philosopher in his own right, drew inspiration from Nietzsche's ideas. He merged elements of the Übermensch, theatrical rebellion, and various philosophies to craft a modern, individualistic, and indulgent worldview—Satanism.

The Twin Doctrines

Atheism and nihilism represent the fall of belief.
Übermensch and Satanism represent its rebirth through will and defiance.

Together, they stand as twin pillars of modern human value and morality—a testament to the enduring struggle between meaning and the void.

The Power of Words

Words are vibrations that strike the mind before they ever reach the ear. They flash through nerves, shake the chest, and settle deep in the gut. They shape the nervous system, shift the heartbeat, and twist thoughts into strange shapes that don't always fit. We treat language as harmless — but it's the most common form of violence there is, a quiet kind that leaves no bruises yet carves deep marks all the same.

A way to understand the layers of language is to use a three-point breakdown:

1. Words as Triggers
For some people — like myself — a phrase as small as “What?!” or “I don't get it..” isn't neutral at all. It lands like rejection, misunderstanding, or even threat. The brain translates tone into danger. It's not dramatization — it's neurobiology. Our survival instincts still treat disapproval as exile, confusion as shame, illness as doom. So words that others shrug off can leave us trembling, heart racing, breath uneven. The human mind never really outgrew its need to belong, and language is the gatekeeper of belonging.

2. Words as Memory
Every hurtful word reopens the archive of past experiences. It's like each one carries a key that unlocks something old — fear, humiliation, or panic long buried. That's why health-related talk or critical phrasing feels like falling through the floor; it's not the word itself, it's what it summons. The memory floods back in color, sound, and sensation. Sometimes it's faint, other times it hijacks the present entirely, dragging us backward until we're small again, powerless to the echo. Brains are great at seeing connections, it links words, sensations or emotions to memories.

3. Words as Creation
The same force that can destroy can also rebuild. A kind sentence can slow the pulse. A thoughtful pause can prevent a spiral. A simple “I understand” can stabilize an entire day or even save a life. That's the dual nature of language: it's a magic that cuts both ways. We live inside the stories we tell, and every sentence we speak either stitches a wound or tears one open. Language is how we conjure our world — through promises, apologies, jokes, poems, and cries for help.

Closing thought:
Words are spells. The careless caster wields them like air; the sensitive one feels every syllable like glass. To speak is to shape the world — to whisper reality into form and hope that, for once, it listens kindly.

I've often had anxiety attacks, suicidal thoughts, and intense emotions just from words — whether about health, struggle, or personal topics, or even from something as small as an expression of confusion or surprise. Granted, disorders and general sensitivity often causes overthinking, which is a downward slope of negative emotions and anxiety or even fear.