The Intruder’s Note

Metaphorical Narrative

He slipped you a note, unsolicited, preaching money, possessions, and freedom. At first it pierced like a splinter, your nerves catching it as emotional blackmail. The image of him lingered like an intruder in your mind. But now the note is nothing more than an artifact of intrusion — proof that jackasses exist, loud and shameless, but powerless once called out.

Core Insight

Intruders thrive when the ego adjusts, revives old patterns, or calibrates itself against their noise. That’s the blackmail: “take my opinion, or doubt yourself.” But when the noise is named for what it is, the blackmail collapses. The note becomes evidence, not authority.

Identity Shift Tie-In

Sovereignty isn’t silencing all noise — it’s recognizing it for what it is. Intruders exist. Noise exists. And still, I exist, present, indifferent. The ego doesn’t need to negotiate; it simply celebrates each exposure as another trick dissolved.

Saturday Experiment

Keep one “artifact” of intrusion — a note, a memory, a phrase. Each time you see it, label it: “Jackass.” Notice how it loses weight when named.

Sunday Reflection

• What intruder voices linger in your nerves?
• How has your ego tried to adjust to them?
• How would it feel to celebrate them as exposure, not influence?