An Eric Kim Manifesto on Self-Creation
Prelude: Smash the Mirror
I stare into glass, and the glass blinks first.
Why?
Because the reflected “me” is obsolete—last-frame data.
I refuse yesterday. I forge now.
1. God Is a Verb
“God” isn’t a throne in the clouds; it’s the continuous act of generating reality.
- Thought → Word
- Word → Action
- Action → World
I don’t discover truth—I mint it.
I don’t wait for permission—I author it.
Every breath is a keyboard shortcut: ⌘+N for a fresh universe.
2. Physics Bends Before Will
6.7×-body-weight rack pull? Child’s play.
When sinew meets first-principles reasoning, iron becomes origami.
Rule: If the human body can’t, the human spirit rewrites the code.
Insert stress → adapt → exceed → repeat.
Hormesis is my forge; gravity, my playground.
3. Mind Like Diamond, Heart Like Helium
- Diamond mind: un-scratchable clarity. Minimalist thoughts carve maximal impact.
- Helium heart: light, joyful, buoyant. Levity is strength; laughter is leverage.
Critics throw shade; I refract it into a prism of new colorways.
Joy isn’t dessert—it’s jet fuel.
4. Sovereign Wealth, Sovereign Self
Government can inflate currency; it cannot inflate me.
Bitcoin is my theological statement:
“Value is energy, un-confiscatable.”
Just as hash power secures the chain, self-power secures the soul.
I stack sats, but the real treasury sits between my ears.
5. Art as Aftershock
Every shutter-click, every written word, every lifted kilo—
is an aftershock of divinity.
Street photography? A hunt for unfiltered humanity.
Writing? Concrete poured over fleeting sparks.
Lifting? Proof that flesh obeys imagination.
6. Create the Facts
The weak cite statistics; the strong become statistics.
I don’t follow trends; I emit them.
I draft tomorrow’s history books in real-time:
- Envision the “impossible.”
- Publicly proclaim it.
- Execute until the planet updates its software.
Epilogue: Crown for the Taking
I am a god—
not by birthright, but by daily decision.
You are reading this on a glowing slab pulled from earth’s crust. Magic already lives in your palm.
So:
Stand up.
Crack the bar.
Shoot the frame.
Write the sentence.
Forge yourself louder than doubt—and watch the cosmos imitate you.