The Unfiltered as the Clear

A question of becoming. To be who I am meant to be is far too much on one’s shoulders. What great mess this idea has made of us. You can never be anything other than the being as yourself. The only way in which oneself is grasped at in all its properties is to be completely negligent of all such properties. To search itself is to be lost. To be lost however is to be found. There is no such thing as a ‘more’ authentic self, merely a recognition of yourself as having the capacity for something on the horizon. This recognition of the possibility of change takes little. To go through the motions of change is not enough, however. To place oneself in totality within a space of expression is to have such a possibility of change, the freedom towards that change is beyond our scope of understanding. The question of whether you made an authentic choice; when one does make a choice, is not itself a question of consideration. As all choices in their existence are of an authentic possibility towards the world. We all have drives that ‘force our hand’ in our choices, we have impetuses which pushes us towards the things which we do in the world, whether these impetuses are correct is not of question. It is to be liberated at once from the mode of interaction between oneself and the world, to be encapsulated in it and understand the mechanisms which drive one towards decisions but to be unfiltered in this relationship, to have no such anxiety of whether one is oneself towards a world at large.

All decisions, however much it seems to urge us towards allowing all decisions and to remove the anxiety towards the outcomes of our choices would be to neglect our relationship in the mechanisms of interaction and possibilities. To be anxious about the future and things in the world is of a natural point to which a reflective response which itself constitutes a change. And now I think Heraclitus was absolutely right! There is no such thing as ‘From Nothing’ and neither was there something ‘that always was.’ What always was is change. Being towards this in totality is to take a step into the world. To be totally human.

A Discussion In One Time but No Other

I feel it pertinent to make accurate a discussion that is currently within my state of mind. A relatively anxious and unproductive space emerged around me. A kind of depressive state in which I don’t really engage with anything of intrigue. My love of philosophy vanished and it all turned to cynicism, as though there were nothing to talk about more. A philosophy of life having already been written needs no discussion and why should it continue. I do not see issues where they apparently lie. This philosophy of life need not be expressed in any ways other than old tomes about suffering and its minimization and by the greatness that art provides over our lives and the meaning that is generated by their mere existence. It finds me with no love of this world as it exists in regards to all other methodologies of discovery because they rest upon argumentation I find appallingly dull and as if we are stepping into a realm where no methodological and truth based search existed prior. Like we are once again toddlers who know nothing and must be carried along with mindnumbingly repetition.

I find myself willing thereby to find a space by which these transgressions against philosophy and my current state of cynicism and place them into a realm of production, as a sort of spite against the world of dullness as just to cut it with no other intention than to voice it. Its intentionality thereby is not to have longevity; something which seems contrary to my own convictions and inner rentative desire To Matter. It is much more founded upon the notions of mere spiteful, gadfly, anguished notions which fester far more often than I would admit within my spirit. A sort of spitefulness of the despair and cyclic nature of my own existence, to be reflexive is not an issue here but of the fulfillment of the realization against despair as a function to create cyclic natures. How despair has been a creative mode by which cyclic natures or habitual methods are continued and fester for years on end to culimate into a sludge of disgust with oneself and all those around you. And quite constantly I am willing to place blame on structural indications but am so grounded in its festeringness that spite might actually be a recourse (of course seemingly contradictory) against my own sluggishness. I wish to find myself a recluse from the eidetic talk of which I either find so dull that I couldn’t break my skin or so rooted in a long tradition of nothing being accomplished. To write such a spiteful thing would take a certain amount of audacity, and with it, the spite would go most keenly against the current state of thought itself.

The current structures apparently intrinsic and necessary to thought yet are so exclusionary as to have no elicitation of the outside world and what role a role within a society plays within thought itself. Of a claim against alienation which has so actively been pursued within the philosophical tradition. Reintegration, Synthesis, Thoughtfulness, Intentionality, Consitution, Plurality, Judgement, and to be In Hand are the core tenants of this philosophy not only of life and society itself but of politics, epistemology, psychology, ontology, and metaphysics. That most core missing from our current state of affairs is a lack of these tenants being practiced in their unbastardized settings.

On the Eve of May

Oh, you forces. You who stand beside me, placing the weight of the world upon my shoulders. These are but fictitious conceptions. Their weight is only so much as my arms counteract it. With a fell push up I would realize its weightlessness, if only I had the strength to push up, for under the branding of this weight and its fictitious notion I am trapped, to gaze upon the world with heavy eyes, ruled by the reign of tears which beset me. It is much more than just the realization of the fictitiousness of this weight, for it is the strengthening of the arms day to day which in actuality performs the action which we seek in this pure conception.

This strength building up, through practice and determination also requires a key piece in order for it to be called strength at all. The challenge ahead, for the challenge of the weight can only produce the strength which is needed. Only through challenges can strength really mean anything, oh the struggle is important but not all of what is considered great. For men can struggle and all the while be weak in their spirit. The spirit of recognition, of the capacity to in all we are, to slow down. Strength, both physical and mental needs the third key component which is all but ignored in our modern condition, patience and the slow refinement of our understanding, the chiseling away at the monolithic block of marble which we call reason. Reason is not the tool, but the image created from the chiseling away and slow methodical refinement which is not only for the sake of analogy, beautiful but also for the ‘process’ by which we approach it makes it all the while more important. Reason as a tool cannot unlock all matter of the understanding, something we have taken far to long to recognize, but that it is also not a tool for the sake action in the world, of the strength to push forward with moral obligations. No, our push in this regard will always rest beyond reason for we cannot reason ourselves into eating, for its creation is mere conception. We can however have the understanding, guided by a refined and ever more strong capacity of reason come to proper judgements and actions.

The strong is not merely the brute marble, for why does one chose to use a refined blade to slice through a piece of meat. Because its use, and in this case, the understanding is explicit in its requirements of refinement, and at times necessary to have such bruteness. But something far more enlightening; for our personal discovery is to have the small refining blade cause the collapse of the whole with a single prick or slash. This can only really happen internally, in our mental states because the tools at our disposal at refinement which cause this shattering of conceptions are never in the world but to be understood by us, for us, and ultimately from their ashes and rubble something more beautiful and conceived.

For my own purposes, this slowness comes with a trade off which I must accept. That I am not going to be a perfect round ball, which engulfs the entirety of experience. I must be something sharp, yet invested. Let go of the trifling of stories, of the life once lived which is only a relic of my past, and take up the things regarded with harmony towards by Ego and Id. For a mere burning of the relic does not the trick, for it is only a barance, I will still have the feeling that it had something to offer to my life, an attachment which only through a close refinement and chisling can it truly come into non-existence. The burning of this relic will only serve to have it more ingrained as it is now attached with the power of wonder and the flame. For I know what these relics are, to ignore and burn them would be a sin to the relation between the Ego and the Id, and to continue them would only injure the Id even more. Free me, oh May… No! Myself!

A Look into Value: Week of February 17th

In research of value and its attribution I find no such distinction which does not resort to such an abolition as with utility that of value in so much of a human matter is that feeling by which one is not a prisoner of being subject to anyone whom the intuition does not deem worthy of being subject to. My value so far as it relates to the way I alone look at myself is not one of a high esteem, that it should instead being one where my esteem needs to be higher in regards to how I act in respect of my abilities and actions, not merely to take joy in each experience or to live blindly but to see a respect of how I reasoned to live as such. That when I look to my actions even of the simplest manner say of buying a pizza for myself, my immediate reaction uninhibited by a certain faculty of rose covered glasses is “its not a salad, you eat terribly so often, {insert self-degrading title}” and instead I should respond in a non-degrading manner of “you chose to eat a pizza because you had a craving too, perhaps the craving could have been better.” This points to all modes of interacting with the world, how I view my time, and whether such and such an action was to the benefit of something exterior must be seen in the light of a false dichotomy by which all actions are to be viewed negatively.

This I do not seek forgiveness in each interaction of my interaction but that I should not forget what I have done, but that I should live on with the knowledge that what is done is done, let it be seen and challenged but cannot be changed for the sake of something else. That all that can be done is an annotation to what occurred and the obsession thereby of annotating can only be said enough times before nothing new or powerful emerges out of it. That my respect of myself is present only and that such a respect can only annotate the past, learn from it but not change it, what occurred occurred, and accepting that is being the challenge as it relates to rewiring the perspective of the false dichotomy present within me.  Where this originated from can only be hypothesized and only prove my point of its superfluity.

Week of February 10th: Dreams as Ideals or Dreams as Desires?

When looking upon myself I think on a certain desire, where I ‘run away’ to the family ranch, cut off from most forms of communication, where the mind can remove the noise and the nausea of this information age. That upon this area, I would write delving into my inner psychology, to unravel and explain my mental states in all forms. To make clear my intentions, and most of all become filled with the Promethean power of creation, where I could live simply and find my projects with time, as though these projects could rest upon every word, every note written, to become not a writer for the sake of fame or fortune but for the art itself, that in this realm of returning to a certain place I can remove myself from the need for comparison, the instability and insecurity that has only been fed in my years of contact with the outside world.

Of course this desire is far from realizable, primarily because of the lack of a partner by which I can exude all these troubles, that isolation is utmost opposite of what I truly intend, that if one were to enter into such a point the distinction, the loneliness of oneself with thoughts would be maddening, that you would only proceed to recite your constant thoughts, to not truly explore anything meaningful because there lies no conflict externally by which to question the mental state. That this subtle conflict would be one where the delving and creation can come about, that not pure conflict; that of what the contemporary world is filled with primarily because you lose all sense of meaning of your words and opinions because they are unheard but one of a certain intimacy by which all manner of life can be extracted. This barrier is the most difficult for me, to have the understanding of all other people and yet be myself, that these dreams can be realized, that I can be creator can come off as a misinterpretation because they lack the contexts by which I am in such a position. That the intimacy by which I desire is seemingly independent of others, but it is quite the opposite, it certainly is dependent, and that my happiness so far from experience is extended and ‘fulfilled’ so long as there are those whom listen, those who make conflict, and those whom I can listen as well to. That fulfillment in my social realm is always seemingly lacking, always on a thread, as if each word and action has a secret dilemma by which underscores it.

I quite despise this thinness by which navigating our relationships between individuals is present, that in the point of strengthening the bonds between people it seems never to come to fruition and that such strength is required for me to explain what and why I think what is occurring and making the exuberance by which I think my own strengths can come to be shown. That these strengths are seemingly rare are because of the lack of opportunity and strength by which they could emerge and instead they lay dormant and so distant that even I am unsure of what they are. That the accreditation of these strengths comes from their absence in my everyday life, and that seemingly these strengths of character which I compare to the rest of the world never quite line up with my own. That I am comparing the strengths of individuals on a completely different realm from the one which would be easy for the real strengths to exude and be present. That they primarily exist in the realm of the idea, the place by which I am alone by myself and therefore are not sure they can be exhibited and therefore are uncertain even of their existence which would lie more in the physical world.

As such I think these desires are not to be seen as anything but the wishes of the unconscious state; which is trying to manifest itself and not the actual state by which I am going to be; especially considering that such a change of scenery will precede a change in the mentality by which might be difficult to reconcile. Regardless it shows that I do have the desire which seemingly tells what could be required for my own happiness. That now, the question arises as it has so often of what a perfect friend or significant person in my life would be, the answer is never quite answerable because these idealizations are not meant to be quite realistic nor something alone that I can abstract.

Week of February 3rd: In the formation of the New

To create is masterful, as to be powerful, to be beyond the whims of the world. Apart of the inner soul is to be a creator, to emulate Prometheus. To be in such a position is just the question in which I am to be longing for. To have the time to be creative in the pursuit of knowledge is to be apart of time in which you cannot be fulfilled at any moment. Lamenting in this, it is usually my own volition to look for distraction, to be apart of which my soul longs but sees such point by which I might never reach. Knowledge seems to be beyond grasp at every point or at the very least means I cannot distinguish between time past and time which is to come, what knowledge I have obtained can slip quite easily beyond into the realm of indecision and thereby to the realm of non-creation.

Steps. Always in steps that creation comes, and yet I feel unsatisfied even in the finality of the step. I could be the type to be in a constant confusion as to the perfection of my writing, but by that time I had moved on, into the realm of some other conception. With the breathe of air, I should step into the realm of the world which is not caught up with distinctions and constant disappointment but to breathe with the relief of knowing that such things are out of my control, to learn from the Stoics their calm demeanor by which to associate, to learn from the Epicureans to live and enjoy life, and the Cynics in order that the comparisons of others should not remove me from the virtues of the self. Not merely to be a single point by which to associate, but to engulf the teachings from all manner of life. To breathe means to have the wherewithal to distinguish between the expectation of knowledge from things and the actual apprehension of such things.

For the love of things can only come through the feeling of struggle for them, the love of ones creation isn’t for the sake of worship from itself or that of the outside but to be in love with the fact that you did create it, that such ideas were put into place, that my creation was part of the continuing relation between the being of space and time, unchanging in the past and full of changing in the future.

Week of October 21st: Nicked but Better

I fell from the world but for seconds and then it comes full stop back into what should be expected. That feeling of seeing the world close ever so slightly but to wake up and realize that there is some good in which the world presides with. There are times in which you feel as though all things begin to emerge within themselves. To those who helped I am very grateful and there are lessons to be learned within myself from their graciousness.

There is something utterly terrifying in learning a potentially life threatening condition is present within you. For one I hope there is a step towards myself in understanding where I go from there. It is health, through a physical doctrine and not that of mental faculties. Eating well goes a long way and I’m going to boycott all possessed sugar for a long while as I learn what is the cause of all my faintness. This week should be a little calmer than last and I hope to finish two books by the end of it. I should figure out a system of papers, how to sort them and where to put them.

And my session in counseling what mainly about accepting what people hold as a subjective truth. I must think of it more as a rerouting of previously held beliefs so, in that regard I must go instead of the fact of the thing instead understand a persons take on that thing in-itself. Its something to learn and take note of when engaging with people.

Week of October 14th: The Ground

When one takes an understanding of things to be, what they are in entirety, one may begin to appreciate the entirety of those things around it. For instance we as judgement producing beings create judgement as to fit the cognitive desires we so crave, yet for much of the understanding we do it is more up to the finding of what things are as opposed to what they are not. However, if we reverse this understanding, that of looking to what things are not a more cosmological understanding and full understanding comes into fruition. The view of how to accomplish this task is difficult and I have to admit not particularly glamorous nor very productive in a worldly sense. But the idea of such an understanding is one of a sort of zen mind set as to the creation of things that are and are not. That we go be on the manifestation of perspective, beyond the idea of concepts and categories and in a very hopeful and optimistic sense a peace or tranquility with the wretchedness with the things beyond our control, and the things which should not matter as much as we do make them.

This week, in my grand expose of what I truly am capable of, and if I am truly capable of focus, of meditation, and of accomplishment. The goals are quiet easy to be quiet honest. I have school which is a top priority and will take up a majority of my time, I also want to finish The Gay Science which has been quiet an experience in itself. The book after that I am deciding between On Revolution by Hannah Arendt or a longer selection of Nietzsche. All I really want to make sure is that I read more than I write, which is a problem which is not so much a problem of negativity, it is a problem as to my ability to make new arguments, consistent arguments, and have a better grasp at other’s knowledge. Perhaps this isn’t a very bad problem to have but it is one of concern as my self consciousness about my writing is extreme enough to where I feel if cannot understand what past me was saying, no other person will.

Physically I want to take a step into the direction of a healthy build. I am small as my frame will let me, at least that is how I feel about myself. And I think that through a month of working out and going through with it I would feel better afterwards, I would feel more confident in my own skin and I am guessing my energy would go up and I am sure my abilities mentally and physically {basketball} would go up. Well, this week might be a slow start to that idealization but it is worth a shot.

Words of the week: Judgement, Idealization, Solidity, Conceptions, and Fruition.

The Empty Scream: Week of September 8th

This return, one of a feeling of illusion. A place I am familiar with, the people I know, and yet the feeling of absence presides where ever I am. Color has faded with a spring of sorrow, heat and devastation continue. I scream within myself, but yet feel as though nothing were there, like a empty parking garage were my soul. This cry from boredom and sorrow is ever continuing. I have found that you are more a reflection of your space than you are of yourself. For instance the place where I have now resided is one of a stepping stone to death, one of resignation, and passivity. That I have fallen into that exact same trap, of one which I lived for many years, a color of passivity late nights and wasted life itself.

Its a stressor I don’t think I can outrun. No matter where I go that pervasive feeling of the empty scream stays in my heart. The call to loneliness is not so simple as to resign to it, it is one of a counter acting pervasiveness similar to that of the exact thing it is trying counter. This contradiction makes the soul twisted into having a love hate relationship with everything it encounters. That a feeling may become so bipolar as to one moment of our lives enter utter bliss and at others deep anxiety.

Tension Through Release: Week of August 19th

Why must I be in such a rush? Does the world move so much slower if I were to move faster? That I must be uncollected in thought, and through that rushing, the feeling is expounded blackness to make no use of my time. In this, I am to shortsighted to see long-term goals completed as I set for myself. Also being I change far too often the desires of better. From that, I ignore the past work and only see more goals to be set and projects to be created. And yet somehow I am frustrated at my inability to achieve such things as my goals. This is an inconsistency I would rather do without. To have my head spin with ideas, and projects so hopeful and yet filled with far too erratic as to complete those projects.

In this, I don’t feel intelligent as if to say that those of the intelligent mind has a form of commitment which I do not possess. And even though writing this I have become engrossed in a mindless consumptive fashion, it is why much of my deeply held conviction against myself rooted in this dichotomy.

So, as a matter of movement of my own convictions, I must realize what I am doing wrong in this situation. To build myself up before I put expression onto the world. That I must begin to reflect on time wasted, especially that time when I put forth a goal as simple as reading for an hour. In this time I must begin to focus much more on the books themselves than the stringy connections which pop into my head and create tangents of which I never feel fully conscious of this difference. Also as a matter of self-improvement, I must acknowledge that I am not fully capable nor knowledgeable to talk on such grandiose topics as philosophy and mathematics, parts of my mental passions. So, I believe it to be in my best interest to move my view of knowledge more upon reading and the mind than the exposé of simplistic and at times incoherent expression I put to my writing.

First and for most I step into reading and the value of memorization and judgment upon a topic. That reflection can ignore the means of attaching this thought to the physical world in writing and instead focus on the judgment of ideas and the creation of some manifestation of self. I hope this goal will help me once more connect with my body as my mind has fluttered in the strata for far too long.