Week of August 5th: The Why Behind the Expression.

As part of my experience through life it has become obvious at the discrepancy I possess between my internal emotions and the outwardly expressions. That describing those emotions are difficult, particularly because I hardly ostensive words; that of a term pointing only to examples for definition. In as much as that part of my cannot formulate the true expression of my emotions I feel like there is no meaning behind the words themselves and they convey very little in reference to my experience. And many a time I can point to words such as hurt, sad, depressed, angry, but those experiences are usually confined to other points of reference and entirely situational. To point to a sense of truth is foggy as differentiated by the feeling I can express, knowing that the situation calls for it; particularly that of anxiety, disposition, and wanderlust is not a situation by which I know what it calls for.

In many a time this expression internally of confusion comes out as what should exist within the world, that my expressions of disposition against that of the popular culture are primarily found in the fact I cannot express why or the reason behind the disposition. This discrepancy mixed with an unfiltered appreciation of truth and negation of personal emotion as a means of expression gives rise to the attitude I express, that of flaring passion, and weak standing points.

This also has its cause in how I talk to people, expecting them to have the same sort of misunderstanding of their own emotions. That my quietism takes form in the knowledge that expression of emotion is important, yet I cannot find the words, nor at times the courage to express those true emotions. And more closely akin, I am blind in my experience of taking initiative from expressions not rooted in words, that of others body language; I cannot read when in relation to myself. However, for some reason I have a good eye for noticing certain body language keys when in relation to those outside of me.

In building foreword, I am trying to build strong roots in self-examination when in those situations which require the acknowledgement of body language. Which no longer is so focused on the topic that the external world becomes abstract and a mere space by which to express meaning of desires or ideas. To acknowledge that our language is weak if we wish to truly express those things we feel, or experience in our lives. In this my philosophical announcement of “The conception is a fact, not the expression!” Perhaps, it tells that our expressions can never truly say what our conception hand of the world. That “thought” as we think of it is based on language yet the true form thinking or cognition takes is that of the entirety of experience even those things which we cannot express and need ostensive definitions.

For going further I will say that a system of truth, that is how do truths relate, must be that of reference between each other. That Kantian Thing-in-itself is a true manifestation and that those truths of the world have a relation by means of defining each other. And to say, as the foundationalist would, that the does have a singular entity which defines the rest of existence I would say is wrong. That system of reference and reliance upon other objects or manifestations is entirely complex and not at any point singular. For instance, I have a metal water bottle, the metal itself might be made up of fundamental particles, quarks, bosons, and all others. But that there are an infinite forms within the world which are also apart of the water bottle as I conceive it, energy of molecules between the metal and air around it, the space by which it inhabits, the forces which are tugging at it to make it; in my frame of reference, stationary. These things make up what I think of the world, the definitions I put upon certain conceptions; organic or inorganic, and that of all matter of things in themselves lie in some noumenon beyond the world; as if a code of the world to make it congruent.

Where does this leave me? To push the bounds of understanding because of these restrictions and systems by which our conception of the truth is particularly harbored. To have a conception beyond the mind and to feel the extension in which I feel as the will stretches to the real world and pushes me to the desires I hold. And with it I know that all I have are the conceptions of the world, and the expression of free will is that extension into the unknown, and to accept the fact of mind which I have set up.

Heat of the Spirit: Week of July 22

It has been far to long for me to continue this, to confined in the void with my emotions or at the very least try to unsheathe them. To build color, voice, and individualism, that these goals are part of a inner striving. Color being a simile to a part of what the external thinks of me, that physical world beyond the mind is passing judgement and those judgement do effect my own individuation despite their origins being of my own accord. to build voice is to have a way of captivation, of expression in much of the same tying form of color one must be able to convey with what purpose you are meaning to speak and the that relationship itself. To open up might be a part of this voice that festers within, that even; as I know this to be a fact as therapy and simple all be it egotistical expression releases a lot of the pressure I have about the world.

And lastly individualism, that is I am not above the influence of other but I must have my own conclusions of that influence. These conclusions rooted in some cognition must withstand the form of inner pressure and those haunting questions of the world. Perhaps this is why change is not so difficult for I know that it is a development, a method or means by which I obtain the desired ends who are in themselves methods. This is perhaps our end, the human race has no ends and any perceived such reaching’s is just a manifestation of the means to pass and continue onward. To quote Wittgenstein

“We acted as though we had tried to find the real artichoke by stripping it of its leaves” -Ludwig Wittgenstein — Brown Book ~~ 1933

This quote although referring to the relationship of the meaning of words and their actual contexts does seem to have a bit of story behind it. That if we want the definition of what we call an artichoke or in my case ends, we must partake all forms of their forms, the artichoke’s leaves makes up an artichoke the means are these leaves of ends, that because of reflection one cannot physically nor mentally act upon ends which did not have reflection of their means. A revolution for peace, must have peace within said revolution. An end of prosperity must have prosperity as a means within it, the prongs on a ladder which give rise to the ladder itself and the destination desired.

Artistically we can see this in the culmination of art itself, that to find ‘real’ or ‘purposeful’ art one must have culmination, that a song is not good for the end nor the beginning nor any single point in between; although highs and lows are known to exist, the ‘blemishes’ of art and it uniqueness within those ‘blemishes’ create the entire matter of the art. No single stroke of a paint brush of a much broader collection of paint should be considered ‘the piece’ in itself.

It is unfortunate, that  much of the contrived ‘art’ we have floating around is the output of the poplar forces of our society. That is to say we have two spectrum which are rooted in a singular part and more or less are a reflection of our society. That we have people enjoying music or media only as a means of ‘entertainment’ which we must understand why people enjoy stuff that is popular. Its a difficult web of strings, infinite connections, and perhaps a reflection of personal reflections. I mean to criticize many singular things, the introduction of mumble rap; ie lyrics we cannot understand nor have any purpose besides egotism, and cgi garbage dumps of movies; Micheal Bay’s Transformers, Fast & Furious, and many more piles of trash which will not stand the test of time, have an impact on the ‘meaning’ we try to express in art, and devolves the excellence of literary forms (it pains me dearly to call Transformers a piece of literature) but I believe this devolution will only continue to get worse the more and more money and incentive we put onto make garbage heaps for us to waste two plus hours in front of and not get any meaning out of it.

Horror films have become horrid as a means of expression, highly cliched, and cheap; ie jump-scares as a means of frightening the audience. If you remove jump scares from a movie then it lacks any tension or suspense then you haven’t created a proper horror plot nor theatrics.

However, I do hope with a slight pessimism at the removal of such heaps of trash that are only popular because they are advertised and they promote a lifestyle we repress. The pessimism forms from the relations and baseless people I have met within my life, that I see much of their style and individuality as nothing but a motivation of culture. That as much plurality as we can see within ourselves, sometimes taken to the extreme by means of insecurity, that our society has a inferiority problem which stems from our relationships in early childhood and the reflection of society as itself. This single source is the mentality bread from capitalism and hierarchy, that the relationships have festered themselves into the form of antagonistic approaches to relationships.

That we have become isolated, from family as uncles and aunts far away, brothers or sisters who leave the nest before us, and even the caretaking aspect of that relationship with our elders has become disgusting as a general affirm, that I fear my grandmother after the passing of my grandfather should be alone with two; previously three houses, that with our busy lives within a capitalist, eat or be eaten society, we put off that relationship with parents as they age out of their working years, provision for one or two more mouths should not be too difficult. This is to say that relationships at their very core have become a value of ‘does this person give me anything to make them care about them.’ Which is sociopaths, we then turn to drugs as a means to escape the already destructive relationships we have with our parents. In returning to means, art such as that of Bojack Horseman and his disheartening relationship with his mother should not be something that occurs more and more often. Isolation also in that we have disrupted our means of transportation, as if everyone were in our litters, like nobility that wish not to view upon the stench and rot of the word they destroy, each person their own ‘mansion’ by standards of previously held homes, luxuries for the sake of luxuries and social hierarchy, how are these things good if they are suppose to be a means to reaching a goal of equality and prosperity.

Perhaps my rant has done nothing but depress, but in light of that and the glaring heat upon this summer we must look back to the quote and say I am a part of the whole leaf of this society, we are all reflections of our conceived better and striving for that is desirable not just for you but for me and all of those around the world.

Journey of the Wind: Week of July 1st

This week aims to be simple, in what I aim to achieve. To write consistently, do my homework the day assigned, read enough to where I feel satisfied each day, and to meditate at least once a day. These goals are readily available, all that is required is that I take those chances, to step into the day with a fire burning without sullen format. To be a proprietor of my own life with an active notions, to find that no such time as that which I have should be looked back upon as ‘wasted.’ The steps upon this is to no longer take for granted the minimal amount of time you have, but not worry so much between my times as to create an anxiety of waste. I should not fear absence as much as I do, yet I must have my understanding of what I do with that time. To view upon the collection of what is to be my experience. Experience over the material, active over the passive, and from that enjoyment of the experience in themselves will continue to expand.

My writing burns with passion, yet I am formed in my own self doubt. To cast upon my imagination as trivial, unfounded, unoriginal, or at the very least too abstract to once understand the purpose of why such writing feels necessary. I am not quite to the level of graphomania, but at the very least my writing when I do take up these stances of writing things my words upon the page are not at all structured nor do I write them in the intent of being coherent. This mixed with a short attention span and a sense of memory loss I will constantly fail to make proper sentences, creating fragments or hard changes mid-sentence. What this I hope achieves is a clear mind, but I should begin my assault back towards normality, the search for coherence enough to where I can read back something, and have it make sense.

This week as with all from here till fall will be quiet, a step at a time is much better than strides off a cliff.

Stength for Tommorow: Week of June 24th

Its cold, within my concious. I dose from one thing from another, scrabbled. Days have merged by their existence is not seprable. Into the void I feel, the non-existence of my whole. It is cold within that void, but within me.

Joy, heat, and color, applied by the most innate parts of my soul. Entrapping me here on in the conquest of the void, with the stregth of hope to see the beauty and exorbitance of the universe. To not be dulled by age, to once again find the parts by which my existence felt whole, when younger and more naive.

As if to find ignorance which I must say is incabable by most regards. Finding ignorance is not possible, it cannot be achieved by choice. But that is my puropse, to stare into the void and call its bluff upon my incapablility. To once again find the ignorance to hear a peice of music that I have already heard for the first time. In this I may divulge into the need for denial or repression of my previous self, the memories once held. Is it not particularly strange to fear and at the same moment welcome that new view upon the world?

For tomorrow brings a new day, no longer content with the thoughts of today.

Activity of the Passive: Week of June 17th

It has been nice to find release and a bit of consistency, to wake to the same senses and to not have fear within my experience. At the very least I must say that the resounding feeling of freedom, for extereior or interior means.

For one my transistion to insanity and the movement from passive to active engagement with my life is resounding, for that I know of no source. And with that resounding change has come the challenge of continuation, of self-‘discovery’ and ultimately self-mastery, by which I mean the reaching forth of my potential of what I can do for the world as part of its never ending cycle and that gives the world beauty.

My goals going forward are to again continue to read, to begin to come out of my shell, and if at all possible regain the feeling of connection with my mind and body. For that I hope through art, meditation, and reading it may be gained back.

Self control is one of the first hurdles to overcome, to dismantle the need for constant gratification, for immediacy, and at the most pinnacle of points reach a sense of attachment and desire within those things I have an inordained view of boredom with.

Yet I need to continue to improve.

Summer’s Eve: Week of June 10th

It is strange, my life seems to be moving far too fast. That this last school year passed without any care for my sanity or acknowledgement of it. In much of the same way my brain has been far to passive over my entire life. I seek some ground or residual standing by which I can view the world with clarity and in a very Kantian way a thing in itself,  yet I am still coming to terms with this new viewpoint which is all too passive in its essence. And in a peak amazement I somehow am still able to guide myself through what I would call unconscious or sub-conscious thought.

But against this passivity is a rising sense of optimism, laced with the particular happiness with just the mere thought of active determination. That coming into this summer I am active enough seek out actives which I absolutely should do, to dismantle my constant need for attention as a relief from boredom. In boredom it is nothing but the culmination of knowledge, of gardening, of listening to Scriabin; who is without hesitation by favorite composer of all time. That I for once have enjoyed the simplicity of making a meal, even if it is just peanut-butter and jelly, I am once more relieved to know that I have done will despite my departure psychologically.

My goals for the next few months are simple enough.

  • Read three hours everyday or a hundred pages a day
  • Workout two to three times a week
  • Eat three square meals a day on minimal spending; less than six dollars a day
  • Keep my schedule daily
    • Keep phone and electronic use below two and half hours a day
    • Only watch TV for two hours a week (Primarily on Sunday)
  • Write a page a day
  • Grow my herbs, for they give me hope of the future with visible life
  • To wake up early 6:30 – 7:00 every morning
  • Keep this blog going at the end of every week (Sunday, today was cheat day)

This seems simple enough, yet I have been known to fall behind on such things. In the coming week I will be in California for Vacation and Arizona to be back home. My desires back home are to go bird watching and try to see the green kingfisher, for they apparently live in the San Pedro valley where I am to visit. This week however, I shall relax and enjoy the calling of the ocean’s ever thunderous and present clockwork as well as the emotional vindication by which Henry David Thoreau has captivated me, by which the daily embrace of Alexander Scriabin’s Dance, and the calm to know that at least I am this far, this growth worthy.