Friday, July 14, 2017

On Intangible Realities and Persistent Illusions

What is real?  Wise men of the past are said to be real, and their words which remain to us are so compelling in their authenticity, their originality, their piercing fixation upon what is essentially true, that we think they have the hallmark of a timeless reality.  The reality bestowed upon only those ideas and their expressions that find their manifestation in persons who now no longer exist, but whose existence can be ascertained only through constructions of thought aided by ink and paper., and the occasional pompous, aromatically sacrosanct professor.

Some of them have said things that bear explicitly upon this very vein of thought.  Some such as Plato and Aristotle, and as recently as Nietzsche and Einstein, to keep them all contained in the realm of the historical and "non living".  They are profound, yet we accord them no life; their observations and impacts are profound, but they themselves are now no longer tangible. Victims of merciless time and matter, hurtling through empty space.

But one "couldn't make them up".  Surely they existed.  No one but they could contemplate the world precisely as they did. Many more must have existed as well, unnoticed by the world, unrecorded by "history".  Some are recorded by history but are ignored by comparison, such as Zarathustra and Mani, Tesla and Rife.  It seems that there is a discrepancy in the focus and understanding that people prefer to manage when reviewing historically real, although now materially intangible persons and realms of reality.

Those are now just possible worlds, ways of looking at our current world's past.  Our world, however much a product of those persons' endeavors of the past, known or unknown, profound or simply quotidian, is now the supernal "reality", the place to start for any realm which will be real, just as much as the end of all other places so far which have once been real, which have ever been real.  But what of this precious little patch of time, space, matter and energy?  Does it have any remarkable properties other than an arrogant propensity to behold the greatness of the past as though it were an ant farm for a child's amusement?  And at that, a child with a propensity to flights of destructive fancy and a penchant for playing god with parabolic instruments?

Now in this little precious slice, some live such sadly petty and utterly dimensionless lives.  They choose only the most base and physically conditioned views, they manifest only the most primitive and fleshly strivings. They are like a broth in which history is and has always been stewed, but they are themselves incapable of realizing the fullness of a chunk of nutritious broccoli or meat. They are content to be the background layers of color on the painting, and they are rather content to believe that the work is, and will be, a masterpiece. They will never ask themselves, for example, why someone like Janet Yellen exists, nor will they ever pierce the veil which is draped over their psyches so as to consider the possibilities of her existence, and whether or not any of them are or ever could be valid in their current form or in any other form.  They'll never consider whether such a thing as fractional reserve banking "exists", and they'll never ask themselves what that means for them and their range-of-the-moment "bottom line".  

And they'll pass these propensities and inertial vectors of psychological stagnation on to their own children, which they'll have in abundance, ironically, and those children will have both a genetic and situational uphill climb which no mountain goat would envy if they ever sought to elevate their minds or hearts to any noble aspirations beyond what is left available to them at community college or else the general currents of 5th columnar manipulation of the human bulk.  Truly that would have been the destiny of one such as myself if worse minds had their way, if the Fates' scissors, and their eyes, were sharp enough. But some threads have destinies which even the Fates cannot measure.  Some strands of history, as with some pockets of the present, cannot be so easily mastered by control freaks and tyrannical morons. Metaphysics, it turns out, is a far grander prospect than can be measured with ontologically flat minds, not even those which seem to sprawl out their grotesque influence over the bulk of human existence and its spatio-material and tempero-energetic vicissitudes.

How else could only some artifacts of the past, which may not even have any biological or genetic correlates today, yet still exist and have such overarching importance for us?  One book of Aristotle's Organon is worth more than two billion human lives, on average.  How is that possible unless the realities which are beheld and construed by means of such thoughts as those referenced in him held out more value for what it means to exist than all the procreative and other creative powers of two billion obedient slaves?  He explains how this is true in his own works, which one should be bothered to read in order to get the sense of what this might mean. One could start with any of his writings, but I would recommend starting with the Nicomachean Ethics.  Then dart over to the Metaphysics.  Then the Physics. Examine On Color, and explore his other topically variegated writings.  You'll find that such a mind is quite rare in adults, quite simplistic and undeveloped in children (though they have a similar penchant for inquiry and wonder), and that the world will always owe far more to such minds than vice versa, though the passionate activities of such minds may lead one to believe that they are not themselves aware of this fact.  

Read his entire works, to the extent such can be reasonably attributed to him or to his direct influence, and you will have read some two thousand pages of print which are estimated by some to be in fact about ten percent of his total original output. Then, after this exploration, one which I took back in 1997-2001, off and on, then after this peering in to one of the great gates of meaning, look back out at the world and survey its life and action. Look again at the pretentious foolishness of the Federal Reserve System and its guardians and beneficiaries.  Look once more at the shallow activities of people who quietly endure such things and many other monstrosities (some of them shameless professors of philosophy), and worse, who demand all others join them in their flat and vapid forms of existence. Then after such a detour from "the present", take another look at the present world. Will it seem so damned real, then?  And one needn't stop there. So many other portals of meaningful divergence from the mundi inlecebris (the world's inane charms) also exist, some ancient, some recent in their manifestation. Just in the world of books alone, there are so many it would shock someone if they understood the meaning and the quantity. 

There are also disciplines of the mind and body which can be incorporated into one's life which bear similar fruits of fitting disenchantment with this world and its foolish nonsense. I've explored some of those as well, and some a lot more than others realize who have their sad little dossiers on me, and what I've found out is that even within these disciplines, the honest and truly giving teacher is extremely rare.  And even when found, he can only impart so much, because it turns out that most of what one is to develop and learn can only come "from within", from one's own essence.  It is blow to the man of honor and dignity to find out that so much which is inherited and cultivated in fact is nothing compared with what is imprisoned and ossified, waiting to be released like an angry ghost, and that he, the arrogant holder of such a temporary and fleeting office of personhood, is viewed as an obstruction, as an interloper at best.  He can find this out early in life, or he can find this out later. Death instructs on this matter in ways which make life seem such an indulgent and careless professor. In most cases, still yet, no matter the quality of person (as the world judges him), he will be a poor student, unable to grasp the basics of the subject.

Such is the absurdity of this situation that one may eventually look at the world as though it were an illusion "albeit a persistent one", and one may wake from dreams wondering if in fact one had seen another, more real, albeit here intangible reality, and wonder if one is in fact the dream rather than the dreamer.  Was Aristotle, IS Aristotle MORE REAL than most of us can ever be, let alone are now in fact?  Is a butterfly in one sort of world "more real" than Zhuangzi in this one, even a living rather than an historical Zhuangzi? Do "parallel" or "tangentially proximal" realms exist which are not merely the figments of our decision-making cognition but are in fact real "actual worlds", by comparison with which ours is but a drab, in fact in most cases a horrific and preferably shunted possibility?  Do they have ambassadors who can travel through what we think to be impenetrable barriers, who can visit one another and who possibly have had the misfortune of coming here to this toxic realm?  Do they meet and discuss, form colleges and alliances?  I may not have a fancy job where I sit on top of a bunch of legerdemain-ridden glorified book-cooking con artists, where I would be paid large and do little, but get to dress hoity-toity and talk to pretentious lawyers so as to make fucking over the American people look like honest business. I might not have the friendship of the world, whether in low or high places.  I might be considered a dishonorable madman.  But I'm not the idiot who keeps hiring crooks to watch over him and his children's future.  I'm not the damned fool that has sold himself into abject slavery to demons who devour innocence. I'm not the one with a filthy, disgusting, evil charnel house of a mess as his legacy.  And a figment of my imagination can be proven to have more depth of meaning, more gravity of significance, more power on several magnitudes, than all of these fools combined who run this circus of distorted charlatanry which is currently passed off as the world's progress. Fools I've spared in the past will encounter harsher teachers.

Time is the opportunity for things to occur.  Moreover, it is the opportunity for meaningful things to occur, including the appreciation of meaning as a mental event.  Better, it is the opportunity for morally significant decisions to be made by morally responsible agents.  When those conditions are all satisfied so that time is superfluous, it ends, in the reverse order of those. First there will be no more morally significant decisions to be made (or a fractal depletion beyond a critical mass on a mass scale, with only pockets of exceptions). Then there will be no more appreciative minds, and less evidence of appreciable meaning for them to experience and value. Then all that is left is something depleted, floating in space. That, revealingly, is where most fools have thought the world to have begun, and where they have seen it to be up til today. On this basis it is fair to say that this world's time has ended, and it floats through space, decaying, recycling the reserves of energy it has stolen from Divine Being through evil ceremonies conducted upon the innocent.  Indeed its time ran out long ago, and it has been on stolen time for a very long time. All that each Good Life could really do in this realm, after a certain juncture in this realm's "progress", was to fend for its own Spiritual Integrity and hope not to add to any suffering unduly.  This world is a chunk of radioactive poison which must be quarantined and has been quarantined from the TRUE EXISTENCE.  That is why it is a seemingly persistent illusion. That is why for thousands of known years philosophers and saints of tremendous power have doubted the validity of this world's manifestation, and deemed it to be unworthy.  I'm just adding my grandiose vote to the enormous pile already accumulated.

No comments: