Semantically Speaking (an inability to fake ignorance) 7-17-07
The Sun engages in potentialities much like the future is merely waiting for your presence. Our continuous orbit much like Hegel's conception of a circular time advancing steadily on a true plane affords both the present and the past a quiet assurance of the coming future. Revolution finds realization in itself, much like man desires actualization through fellow man, marveling at his vainglorious accomplishments. Horde's of shallow hearted heathens, the unenlightened masses of men now slaves to the modern machine, the content fellow's fellowshipping with the mundane amid the endless march of Monday's; these men at the backbone and the wound of mankind. They are the beasts of burden, full with hungry guts but empty of hungry minds. The working man is not our highest ambition, nor our greatest form. Though they are the necessary and the pride, they are not the dreams of great dreams, rather they are the seldom stargazers, built of the remaining pieces of greater men and greater nations. Where are the Riser's, every man should therefore be a learner. "But it were better said: 'He who had knowledge walks among men as among animals.'"[1] Where are the few, the far between harbinger's of the changing tide; where therefore are the Overmen, the children of the faith whose birthright is found in their daily desire for the betterment of not only the self, but of the Other? Where are these hungering and adventurous souls? How near they are to my own damning heart and how honest is this heart when with all its strength it proclaims, "They are surely born of my Mother!" For my Mother is Creation and my Father is Creator from them I take my desire from my desire I birth the grandest dream; I am in that I am not.
My Being therefore is not derived from that which I am rather it is born from that which I am not. For most assuredly that which I am not stands as a merciless judge over that which I am. Clad in flowing fulgin robes and entrusted with the weighty responsibility of a fair and unquestionable ruling, that which I am not places that which I am upon Her gilded scales. Justice in turn judges my gifts besides my follies and readies her true blade for dispensation.
Awareness, the twin of Enlightenment trickles in radiant drops across my forehead and spills into my eyes, cleansing my sight. My soul drinks deeply as the drops filter deep within my cerulean gateway and the seeds of honest doubt find themselves bursting into full bloom. Red orchids, blue lilies and exquisitely lavender roses strain their temporal petals to my fate. They are assured that which they are is worth more that what they are not; they are liberated by this knowledge and thus freely offer their fleeting splendor. Yet woe is my weight, for I am weightless in this test, wholly lacking substance; a wicked aspiration, an ephemeral eidolin. That which I am is counted worthless against the crushing rock that is that which I am not. What of me might stand, what of me might mount any defense against my own incriminations? Though my will, that sturdy and unfaithful expression, my supposedly highest form, should stand, should rise on two pillar-like legs, I am left motionless. Pinned against time, against Hegel's horizontal line, my will can only watch as the great wheel turns and that which I am not comes around once more to crush all that I am. A suffocating pressure, the full and enlightened, exposed and bedraggled knowledge of the failure of my will is a shameful, but daily occurrence. Though I would subjugate the world to my selfless will I cannot overcome myself and therein lies my failing. My longing, all of my grandest dreaming dies at the feet of my gluttony and weak will. Man cannot create his own will and though all his Being should hunger, should discover the most joyous trait of insatiability, he is still the most selfish of all created and dreamed Beings. For in the discovery of a malleable will, man also discovers the ease with which he might mold the will of the Other. Man too, soon explores the static nature of his own will and it is here that his desire atrophies and the tempting road is taken. Alas that his road might be only a transitory diversion, but soon Man's own will consumes the Other; and still it hungers, for in the consuming it is left hollow and famished. Therefore in Man's hungering he devours again, taking the will of (an)Other and thereby ad infit.
It is here we return to Justice and her honest scales, her true blade. For though we should desire that Justice carry a will to fairness, a mind to mercy, she complies only with the verdict of that which I am against that which I am not. Will-less, having spent my will on subjugating the Other, I am left exposed, empty and utterly condemned.
It is here the sharp whistling of her blade can be heard. My will bent mirroring my supplicating head awaits that eternal and draining sting. And yet all Creation holds itself in calm, the objections of time halt and a commanding voice calls out to my damned and contorted form. "[And] He made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them."[2] Here all my Enlightenment fails; my will breaks and like midnite mist before the burgeoning dawn, flees. "You want to make all being thinkable, for you doubt with well-founded suspicion that it is already thinkable...Thus your will wants it."[3] I understand that which my will had desired but could never describe, could never overcome; that all knowledge predicates upon this- "He accepts men as they are, as fallen. He affirmed them as fallen…[His] new action towards man is that he preserves him in his fallen world, in his fallen orders, on the way to death, approaching the resurrection, the new creation, on the way to Christ."[4] This is to the astonishment of the selfish will and in this new pressure it must surely crumble. Justice is stayed; her trusted blade returned to her hip in the light of evidentiary grace. For though that which I am not will always outweigh that which I am, and though my will shall never rise up, my life shall still overcome through the affirmation that this debt is not my own to pay.
"He remains in the Twilight and God affirms him in this, his new sicut deus[5] world, by preserving him."[6]
[1] Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche, pg 88 "On The Pitying"
[2] Genesis 3:21
[3] Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche, pg 113 "On Self-Overcoming"
[4] Creation And Fallen - Temptation, Dietrich Bohnhoeffer, pg 100-101 "God's New Action"
[5] Creator-Man
[6] Ibid.
those thieving birds...
Stearling
Explosions In The Sky/All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone "Catastrophe and the Cure"
Silverchair/Young Modern "Those Thieving Birds (Part 1) / Strange Behaviour / Those Thieving Birds (Part 2)"
Those thieving birds
Hang strung from an empty nest
This is tearing me apart
If the sun won't shine
Forever will never be fine
Underneath the hollow ground
Lies a night time sky
For only a desperate eye
My Being therefore is not derived from that which I am rather it is born from that which I am not. For most assuredly that which I am not stands as a merciless judge over that which I am. Clad in flowing fulgin robes and entrusted with the weighty responsibility of a fair and unquestionable ruling, that which I am not places that which I am upon Her gilded scales. Justice in turn judges my gifts besides my follies and readies her true blade for dispensation.
Awareness, the twin of Enlightenment trickles in radiant drops across my forehead and spills into my eyes, cleansing my sight. My soul drinks deeply as the drops filter deep within my cerulean gateway and the seeds of honest doubt find themselves bursting into full bloom. Red orchids, blue lilies and exquisitely lavender roses strain their temporal petals to my fate. They are assured that which they are is worth more that what they are not; they are liberated by this knowledge and thus freely offer their fleeting splendor. Yet woe is my weight, for I am weightless in this test, wholly lacking substance; a wicked aspiration, an ephemeral eidolin. That which I am is counted worthless against the crushing rock that is that which I am not. What of me might stand, what of me might mount any defense against my own incriminations? Though my will, that sturdy and unfaithful expression, my supposedly highest form, should stand, should rise on two pillar-like legs, I am left motionless. Pinned against time, against Hegel's horizontal line, my will can only watch as the great wheel turns and that which I am not comes around once more to crush all that I am. A suffocating pressure, the full and enlightened, exposed and bedraggled knowledge of the failure of my will is a shameful, but daily occurrence. Though I would subjugate the world to my selfless will I cannot overcome myself and therein lies my failing. My longing, all of my grandest dreaming dies at the feet of my gluttony and weak will. Man cannot create his own will and though all his Being should hunger, should discover the most joyous trait of insatiability, he is still the most selfish of all created and dreamed Beings. For in the discovery of a malleable will, man also discovers the ease with which he might mold the will of the Other. Man too, soon explores the static nature of his own will and it is here that his desire atrophies and the tempting road is taken. Alas that his road might be only a transitory diversion, but soon Man's own will consumes the Other; and still it hungers, for in the consuming it is left hollow and famished. Therefore in Man's hungering he devours again, taking the will of (an)Other and thereby ad infit.
It is here we return to Justice and her honest scales, her true blade. For though we should desire that Justice carry a will to fairness, a mind to mercy, she complies only with the verdict of that which I am against that which I am not. Will-less, having spent my will on subjugating the Other, I am left exposed, empty and utterly condemned.
It is here the sharp whistling of her blade can be heard. My will bent mirroring my supplicating head awaits that eternal and draining sting. And yet all Creation holds itself in calm, the objections of time halt and a commanding voice calls out to my damned and contorted form. "[And] He made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them."[2] Here all my Enlightenment fails; my will breaks and like midnite mist before the burgeoning dawn, flees. "You want to make all being thinkable, for you doubt with well-founded suspicion that it is already thinkable...Thus your will wants it."[3] I understand that which my will had desired but could never describe, could never overcome; that all knowledge predicates upon this- "He accepts men as they are, as fallen. He affirmed them as fallen…[His] new action towards man is that he preserves him in his fallen world, in his fallen orders, on the way to death, approaching the resurrection, the new creation, on the way to Christ."[4] This is to the astonishment of the selfish will and in this new pressure it must surely crumble. Justice is stayed; her trusted blade returned to her hip in the light of evidentiary grace. For though that which I am not will always outweigh that which I am, and though my will shall never rise up, my life shall still overcome through the affirmation that this debt is not my own to pay.
"He remains in the Twilight and God affirms him in this, his new sicut deus[5] world, by preserving him."[6]
[1] Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche, pg 88 "On The Pitying"
[2] Genesis 3:21
[3] Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche, pg 113 "On Self-Overcoming"
[4] Creation And Fallen - Temptation, Dietrich Bohnhoeffer, pg 100-101 "God's New Action"
[5] Creator-Man
[6] Ibid.
those thieving birds...
Stearling
Explosions In The Sky/All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone "Catastrophe and the Cure"
Silverchair/Young Modern "Those Thieving Birds (Part 1) / Strange Behaviour / Those Thieving Birds (Part 2)"
Those thieving birds
Hang strung from an empty nest
This is tearing me apart
If the sun won't shine
Forever will never be fine
Underneath the hollow ground
Lies a night time sky
For only a desperate eye