The set-up:
5:00PM, Thursday afternoon. I am driving around Lake Tahoe on my way to the IV TT meeting. The drive from the San Francisco Bay Area to Incline Village, through the majestic Sierra Nevada Mountains, is an enjoyable and productive experience. I usually use this time to reflect on the events and lessons of the last two weeks.
But today is different. Today I am anxious and uneasy. I am straining, I am wrestling with myself. I am not going with the flow, I am not riding the trend.
I haven’t traded for almost three months. And I am not trading until I learn how to lose gracefully, dispassionately. I am a bitter and a lousy loser, and my bad losing habits have cost me dearly in the markets. I want to work tonight and I want a balanced hot seat: A little bit of logic for me and a little bit of feelings for Fred. Maybe we can limit the somatics to the good forms - the happy ones, the great high, the great peace – and skip the painful forms – the stomach aches, the headaches, the neck pains, and those hard feelings that shake you at the core of your soul. Everyone gets their outlet this way, everyone is happy, and I overcome my loss-taking difficulty.
I reach for Fred, but he does not respond. “Fred, Freddy, Buddy, Fredo, Alfredo, Frededido …” No matter how I endear myself to him, he does not show. I tell him to go to hell and I feel mixed feelings of respect and envy for the masters who have come to achieve full self-mastery. If only I can be like them. If only I can reach inside of myself and come up with the goods of discipline, commitment, confidence, dispassion about money, and loss-taking ability.
I think of the samurai for a while as the ultimate self-master. Then I shrug the thought off, consoling myself that I will probably live longer than most Samurais. “Is theirs “the right livelihood,” I think with a nasty grin, “or is it the right deathlihood?” What kind of a career choice is that?
Betting their life on a 50% chance game hand after hand after hand isn’t high-expectancy trading. How long will an active Samurai last? Gee, I do slightly better than that myself.
Thinking of the right livelihood, I start to get depressed a little. I haven’t done a thing in three months. Not one single trade, not one single trigger pulled, all because of my inner-weakness. I start to feel like a sissy cowboy going against John Wayne or Clint Eastwood. I think about what Ed might say about that. “No-livelihood might be the right-livelihood for you,” he’d most likely say. I laugh. Can he be serious when he says these things? I can’t tell. I feel so freaking clueless, a true loser.
It gets too complicated to analyze. I decide to drop these non-constructive thoughts and to focus on the here-and-now. From my current position on highway 28, the water and the shores of Lake Tahoe look heavenly, magical, serene, superb. I park the car and I submerge myself in the beauty. I wonder if and when angels visit this place. I wonder if there are sirens in the lake and I imagine how they’d look like and how they’d be in bed. Maybe I have no-livelihood, but I feel most definitely alive. I decide to take a little snooze - La siesta de Angeles.
The entry:
It’s a little bit after 7:00PM and I am in the hot seat. I am on a mission to intellectualize Mr. Fred into subordination. Fellow tribesmen are very supportive. I am happy to have their sympathy. I give a speech for 15-20 minutes on the progressive - maniacal - delusionary - paranoid - phobical - wishful - thinkincal syndrome that affects me whenever I experience a loss.
The typical talk of any loser. I explain in detail why a 50% equity loss is more convincing to me than a 2% loss. Why falling with a thud is more spectacular than falling gently. Why changing system parameters is really good in the middle of a loss, especially if the new parameters are based on fundamental analysis. I explain how stops and timeframes can be stretched intelligently to accommodate one’s ego and psycho needs and one’s wishful projections and how the market always comes back to seeing it your way, especially if you give it enough rope to hang itself. I talk about how elastic the concept of time is and how the ‘now’ can be stretched to include ‘tomorrow’ without violating the fundamental parameters.
Tribe members continue to be very supportive. “Go on,” they say, “keep explaining, keep rationalizing, just do anything to avoid getting into your feelings.”
In my gullibility and desperation, I do not realize that they’re being sarcastic. I am thinking, “That’s great, I am kicking Fred’s ass and the tribe is supporting me. How cool.” I go on explaining more. Now I am giving a synopsis of my career as a financial analyst and how I can build financial models bigger than the pyramids, notwithstanding that I still can’t take a ten dollar loss!
“How do you feel about that?” a friendly voice comes back.
“Good.” And I go on another rationalization spree. How you can run a whole company with my strategic, tactical, manpower, and material planning models.
“How do you feel about that?” a slightly irritated and forceful voice comes back.
“Good.” And I go on yet another rationalization spree.
“HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THAT?” a more irritated and more forceful voice comes back.
Shit, he is sounding like Moses when he caught his tribe drunk out of their minds on his way back from the mountain. I am losing my nerve, not sure if I should go on rationalizing.
“YOU DID NOT HAVE A PROBLEM LAST TIME GETTING INTO YOUR FEELINGS. WHAT’S HOLDING YOU BACK NOW? LISTEN TO YOUR BODY. IT KNOWS WHAT IT WANTS TO DO.”
I feel that’s it. I am at the end of my rope. They obviously were not serious about helping me intellectualize Fred. I feel like an idiot. I should have known better. The whole purpose of TTP is to encourage Fred and to celebrate it, not to obsolete it. What was I thinking? Am I wishful thinking AGAIN?
My mind is racing. They’re giving me a way out. Do I end the hot seat or do I get into my feelings? I can’t end the hot seat. This is the last issue standing between me and my being a trader. This is the last frontier and I must conquer it. This is my chance. I am here. The tribe is here. There is no better time. I desperately need this. I better get into it.
I close my eyes and I focus. How do I feel? How do I feel? How do I feel? I feel utter disappointment in myself. I feel like a total failure. I feel tense. I feel like shit. I feel sick.
Ouch! My stomach! My hand goes to my stomach. I tell the tribe I have pain in my stomach.
“Great,” they say
“That’s it,”
“Good job…”
“Feel it more,”
“Intensify it,”
“Go with it,”
‘Keep your hand on your stomach, yes, keep rubbing it,”
“GOOOOOD JOOOOOB”
The pain starts to intensify. It gets stronger by the second. I grab my stomach with both hands and I am shaking a little.
The tribe is getting excited. There are all kinds of encouragement to stay with the form.
The trade:
The pain is strong. It’s moving upwards towards my chest and my neck. That’s it, the gates of hell are open and Fred is out like your proverbial bat out of hell. The S.O.B. always does that. He punches me in the stomach first, then he ravishes through the rest of my body like the blade of a Cuisinart spinning at 30,000 r.p.m. This is the part of TTP that I dread.
I am holding my shoulder with my hand as it is falling off. I complain. I tell the tribe that I have a very strong shoulder pain. That this is exactly my issue with TTP. That these pains are too much, are not reasonable, that there should be a way to avoid them. That Fred is nasty and mean and that he likes to kick my ass every time he gets a chance. Why does he have all these pent-up emotions against me? Why can’t we have a ‘logic knob’ to control Fred’s intensity?
A lot of ‘why’ questions. Moses (the Chief) is ticked-off again. “Here we go! Go on and complain about the process and the tribe and Fred. Just do anything to avoid going into your feelings.”
He’s calling me a whiner! I can’t believe he’s calling me a whiner. I am dying here and he’s calling me a whiner. I am not a whiner, I am an achiever. Well maybe I am not an achiever, I never reach the summit, but I am a hard worker, I am industrious, I am not a whiner.
Humm. Why don’t I ever reach the summit?
I hate the summit. It’s awful at the summit. It’s lonely at the summit. It’s freezing at the summit.
A chill takes over my body. I am shaking. I am freezing. I embrace myself trying to warm up. I feel the goose bumps on my skin. I imagine myself climbing toward the summit of a steep mountain peak In the middle of a nasty blizzard and as soon as I am within a 100 yards from the top I am sliding down, sliding, sliding, sliding, toward the bottom.
The tribe is encouraging me to stay with the feeling. My whole body is now shaking. I can’t stop the shaking. I feel like I am under a giant ice cube.
“Yes, keep shaking your legs, your hands, your chin. Yes, stay with it, yes, that’s it, good job…”
This goes on for a while. I get stiff like a rod. I tell the tribe I am afraid I am going to die. They say, “Die then. Experience death.”
A moment goes by. I start laughing hysterically. Experience death! What a term! Coldness and death go so well together. The summit is death. Funny that this afternoon I was thinking about death. About the Samurai, getting into each fight knowing fully well that death is a 50% chance outcome. Yet it does not bother him.
I tell the tribe that I am mad at the Samurai. How can he fight without a stop? How can he have no sense of self when so much is at stake? How can he be one with the sword, moving in his fight gracefully, flawlessly as if he has nothing on the line. I hate the Samurai. I think he is culturally overrated, over-glorified. I mean the man is an idiot.
“Can you be the Samurai now? Can you do this form?” Moses says.
I sure can. I stand up and I start chopping the air with my blade. Chop, chop, chop.
Encouragement comes from the room, “What a good swordsman, look at these body moves, YES, Keep it going.”
I am swinging my sword. Suddenly, I have an urge to chop my ego. I tell the tribe how I like to chop my ego. They encourage me to do it for a while. I go at it, chopping my imaginary ghost-like ego as he bounces in the air in front me. Chop, chop, chop.
Then Moses says: “Can you be your ego? Do you want to be your ego? Do you want to put that into a form?”
“I don’t like my ego.”
“Can you do it anyway? Can you get yourself to like it?”
I try. I walk around the room, chest high. I feel taller and more erect than Fidel Castro (I am 5’ 5” by the way). I walk with the attitude of Mussolini. The receivers are cheering me and I am getting fuller of myself by the second. I am telling them that they are all wrong and I am right. I am telling them that I can move markets. That they’d better not bet against me.
I am telling them that I am Archimedes. That with my $[amount] account lever I can move the world. Better yet, I am Atlas. I can carry the world.
“Yes, Atlas, act out Atlas now.”
I bend on my knee and raise my hands behind my shoulders as if I am carrying the world and I scream: “I am Atlas and the earth is too light. Add more on. Add Mars and the moon and a constellation or two.”
The exit (climax):
I do Atlas a few times. Then it is time for polarity. I am asked to do all the forms together. I do them slowly at first. The tribe encourages me to do that faster. So I do them faster and faster – the stomach pain, the neck pain, the shaking, the shivering, the Samurai, Archimedes, Atlas.
I do them together a few times.
Then I stop. I am on my knees on the floor, a huge amount of energy is flowing within me, centered in my chest.
“Listen to your body,” a voice comes in from behind me, “your body knows what it wants to do, just observe what your body wants.”
Still on my knees, my eyes are closed, I am totally focused on my body, I feel all the forms spinning inside me like a hurricane. The eye of the hurricane gets clearer and clearer, it is centered around my heart. I grab my chest with my hands and I bend forward slowly to let it pass.
My forehead touches the floor, I am sobbing, crying. The funnel of the storm passes gently, peacefully. I moan:” my past, oh my past.”
The room is quiet.
I am at the zero point. Such peace. Nothing matters. Perfect world. Everything is beautiful. The high of highs. Magic!
A couple of minutes pass. I thank everybody. What a high!
“So where did all these forms converge to?” Moses asks.
“To this state of nothingness, nothing matters, total peace.” I reply.
“Do the Samurai.”
My body hardly moves.
“Do Atlas and Archimedes.”
I just smile. My body does not feel like doing nothing.
“How do you feel now about taking a loss?”
“Trading is all about loss-taking. No loss-taking means no trading.”
“How do you feel about taking a loss only to see the stock bounce back and rally for 20 days in a row?”
“Too fucking bad. Hindsight is 20/20. At the time I take the loss it is necessary.”
“How do you feel about taking the loss only to see the stock collapse 20 points?”
“Good. That is what the system is supposed to do in the first place.”
“Good, you see this state you are in now? I want you to observe it, to record it, to save it in a way that you can retrieve it later on demand.”
Done!
www.seykota.com