newagesurvivalist

[newagesurvivalist]

I am what I am

The world is a dangerous place. People undertake a variety of actions and make a great deal of plans. But, we don't know what anything really means; we are swept up in the ebb and flow of business and politics, and at no point are we ever solidly at rest - calm, and under control. Everything is insane; however, there will be moments in which we are tested, and in these moments dignity of character will be of the utmost importance. What I want to do is philosophize for while, to understand and expound upon the values that make our lives worth living; and furthermore to state the obvious, so as to make us aware of that unchanging and indomitable law of nature that dominates our doings. Finally, I wish to connect this to that great truth of life: that the goal of life is to make a living, a saying from Kierkegaard.

First of all, there is a value in life that has been quothed by the ancient Greeks over and over: that the greatest wisdom is to know oneself. This has been interpreted to mean: to know one's measure. However, I feel this is a kind of inappropriate interpretation of it. For since, we see that it is really a practical dictum. A man is then said to be able to do whatever he wants, if he knows himself to be in some way limited; but I see that a man needs to know many more things, such as where his talents lie and what he likes to do, and how strong he is under duress and what he aspires for: these are continuously suppressing notions, that make one reconsider his entire world-view. On the contrary, there is even a consideration from the Orient, where Master Tsu says that one must know himself in war. "Know oneself, know one's enemy." These are similarly weighty considerations, because in truth it seems it is all too easy to submit to the old rule that to measure something is to know it. We ought to keep rethinking the old systems of morality, and thereby begin to understand that it is, in fact, to know one's quality, what makes a man truly strong: for if he knows he is eminently gifted, he need not worry about challenges, but if he is handicapped, he must certainly know how to compensate for these faults. That is enough on the first value.

On the second point, I'd wish to think again on the problem of the One and the Many. Spiritual teachers have stressed, especially in India, that the One is actually the Godhead, and permeates the entire universe in a kind of caleidoscopic way; and everything that exists, exists actually only as God, and has no meaning outside of its divinity: the famous adage "That art thou." Now we see that this is fundamentally a social notion. We tend to see it as important that one man, one vision, is superior to confused and manifold ones. So it is in fact a certainty, that the righteousness of the enlightened despot's vision is found in all layers of social reform, and the best men all agree on who should rule, and by extension, what politic is best for society. This idea, even, of "one world", in which every little villager is just a small cog in the immense harmony of the world, is a potent notion, that influences many a reformer or prophet. But what is going on is that individuals can decide for themselves what to do and what to desire, and they believe in the end in the religion that most aligns with their feeling of home and hearth, and the superiority of this tribe over some other. Therefore, I will say that our search for a perfect quintessence that somehow allows us be united with God in some greater consciousness, is really just the dream of a technocratic state, in which no work is done, but all are under the control of some deranged genius. In this way, we should remember that the thou art that, or all is one paradigm is in fact an admonishment, not to search for the inner workings of all specimens, but nothing less or more than the hope for honest labour, in a just and fair, well-governed state. I leave it at that, and move on to the next point.

For the third subject of consideration, I will, finally, discuss the idea of authenticity, or self-possession. In a memoir I tried to write, I settled on this term as the principal criterium for my own success in terms of mental and ecological health. Self-possession, then, is really the playing of one's own part, rather than someone else's, on the theatre of life: the beholding of the essence, or perhaps we might say God again. Nota bene, that this Godhead is not the God of the Indians, that we can know and that knows us and that unites wisdom and desire in one ultimate moment of peace and equanimity. This, rather, is the God of Judeo-Christian heritage, that was uplifted by Jesus and then made the arbiter of good and evil, and shows us what is perfect in us and the only, spiritual goal in life that is honest compared too all debauched goals that the world offers us. In other words, a man is not truly himself, unless he has, as Christ says, denied himself, and become a servant of the immortal God. I will add that it is in fact one's function to be at the disposal of the machine of the Kingdom, but it is, of course, not a machine in the data-driven, computational sense of a robot or calculator, but rather, truly, a clock such as the universe itself is, presided by the Great King. In other words, a man is not so much expected to be a cog, again, in this great machine, but rather to be responsible, to be an agent of the working order of the universe that is presided by the Lord, in which constant faith in the wisdom of the Word is logical, lucrative and adequate for human satisfaction in this great system of trade and conflict that dominates over the wishes of his pagan heart. In summary, a man must be himself, and act as himself, that is to say revel in the glory of God as a function of God's immortal Will, that permeates everything; so, simply put, he must appreciate the gifts God has given him, and use them for the completion of his designs. That is the ground of self-action, or self-responsibility. With that, I end by disquisition.

Now what is clearly going on is that man is never in charge of his life, but always moving after the goals of mightier men. Tragic as that may seem, I daresay this gives some life to his otherwise static existence. It is lonely at the top. I am not saying a man should desire for having a boss, but it is certainly a dynamic that gives weight to his own meaning, for there is no greater rulership than to serve the state. When this state is actively embodied in some social fact, such as a king, that might be excellent for us. It is the most satisfactory thing in life to have things be as they are thought to be when there is hope, and in this sense, Empire is the true fulfillment of hope, and its most solemn expression. For all that, Empire continues to exploit and demean people in their struggle for recognition, but we cannot act as if it is all right that the rich get richer in laissez-faire systems of wealth-accretion. I don't know anything about economics, but I will say that there is no virtue in material wealth-hoarding and banking, and these seem to be the pillars of the American system; and it is opposed to the radical Empire that I fantasize about. There must be social change for emancipation to be realized in a fettered world. On the other hand, it would seem that the few people still capable of making the world worthy and dignified are, in fact, paralysed by systems of wealth-accretion. In fine, we must place power back in the hands of the aristocracy. Then there may be some relief from the confusion and empty money-mongering that we see on Earth today.

Now we may wish to keep things as they are. Our lives seem relatively free, and we can do whatever we want and there is no immediate oppression we have to cope with. We can choose whatever job we like and do it, and get a large degree of satisfaction from that - because, so it seems, we get to do something that contributes to the continued and increasing wellfare of all of mankind. But is that really true? It seems to me that in what we have discussed today it really is unfair for us to expect that we will ever get peace on Earth in this sallow, meaningless treadmill in which we are forcing ourselves. For us finite beings, with finite capacities, the only things we can hope for in life is to be part of some greater purpose under the heavens. Although there is no truly righteous man to be found in the cities of the West, we dream nevertheless of some more perfect or generous organization that truly works for the improvement of the human lot in life. I don't know what is truly necessary for a man to live life in peace and reward, but frankly the only thing that we see on the horizon is disaster. Yet there might be some resolution we can make, in our finitude, that will allow us to make the start for a more meaningful, more harmonious world.

I cannot answer that question. I am not a spiritual master. But I have said much today and I wish to conclude in a happy and optimistic fashion, so that we may look to the next day with a degree of tranquility. - It seems then that the current world is broken, but the values from the past still speak to us, and we may be able to unite them somehow in a virtuous system. I daresay that is the rallying cry for the new spirituality: to translate philosophies built around antiquated values, and then make them work in a modern, medically sound system of virtue, that people can work towards. Maybe there will be moments in which some appeal to the heavens will return in common parlance, and that is only natural. Nevertheless, I think that men should strive to comport themselves in this grand system of competing entrepeneurs that we call modern society, and do what they can to make the world make sense again. Because to me it seems that we have not managed to realize stoic values, and are now adrift, and we need new system of knowledge, but in the modern spirituality, knowledge can no longer be separated from politics, and we must somehow translate terrific notions from the past into everlasting, durable values that have some connection to the horror of statecraft. In the end, all that matters is that a man can look himself in the mirror and can sleep at night, and I think that only self-reflection can help in this regard. So long.

[newagesurvivalist]

Office buildings

Life is swift. We encounter the terrible richness of office, when we see that we can truly make sense of the life we undergo. The hyperactive requirement for mechanical logic is certainly just a flutter of the endless goings on of weakness; and everybody wants to be on time, to rescue the royalty. Someone may see that there is truly a consistent hope for ordinary things, but they lie in insane stances in which there is certainly no real deliverance: and everything is just a resonance of the visibility of the incurrings of liberty. So, in fact, we just hang around the misery of life. We do not achieve real holiness: it is all ridiculous.

A man may believe that his method of speaking is exclusive somehow; that his station is reserved to the highest of halls, and that he is free somehow of the constraints of, what we might call, convention (or custom). We can save time, but in the end one of the premier responsibilities of life is to truly reap the rewards of his limited life - truly, we see there is a real meaning to the word "travail" which is harnessing the consistency of real philosophy. Truly, the purpose of participation in society lies in the magnificent atonement we discover in love and devotion; and these are sincerely the promises of actual reform and detail. Exalted places will be attended by the resplendent hero of the old days. There will be adequacy in endless toil, but what we do realize is that there is really no coherent meaning to the endlessness of work - because work is just another form of devotion, and we subscribe in fact to the true liturgical procession of liberal life. Verily, society is operated by the wise men or the learned men, but in the end we see that individuals have to apply themselves if they are to be truly in control of their lives; truly, this is what it means to have agency. We must truly "travail" (I deem this to be the truly noble aspect of human existence) but then there is verily that thing we may call "employment" or "pliance", from the verb "to ply"; or perhaps we should just call it, indeed, "play", in this rightly theological sense.

There is a great amount of things we may see. In visceral life, there might be events happening. Around the time we get down to making sense of things, there might be results coming forth from the darkness. Our work is meaningless. But I will say there is a lot of fun to be had in little deeds. We can restore the terrific flow of the endless cascade of disasters, if we just take something up - and there will be, in fact, this constant dynamic of war and peace, in which we are taken up (in other words, everything may be a waste of time, but the best things in life may spring up out of the horror of life and then suddenly give us real focus and, what we might call, a sense of harmony or purpose - direction - and so we will be happy for a time: as they say, you can't buy a thrill.)

Therefore, I gather it is proper to refer to this kind of stirring "plightment". Here we have a useful category, and I would oppose it to mere "conversation", or "turning around."

There will be endless remonstrances in the protestance against injustice and egotism, but someone may free us from lethargy and truly send us on our way. Most people shy away from responsibility, but they relish in feeling important. Nobody sees himself as an introvert, but everyone wants to be an exact person. In other words, the new coming of the old world, the resurgence will happen and it will purify all of us.

[newagesurvivalist]

Chancelleries of scholarship

Authorities instill in us a distinct sense of admiration, perhaps, for the parade of life in which we each have a clever function: this is the nature of one's occupation - that he can move continuously to parade around in some general sense and realize his objectives, but still fashion a destiny out of the endless ruins of the past civilizations. We all have certain values of propriety, but what we see most of all is that the proper men and women of history build their legacy out of the truly spiritual struggle with the End, which is ever coming on; so, in this wise, we are capable only of ordinary actions towards the purpose of life, and we cannot see release from the traditional attitude in which wise men have educated us, or something - and so, we continue to ply our trade or reveal some deeper truth about life in gestures of mastery; things that are strong, but not essential. The fact is that we do have some kind of calling in the general profession of life; or rather, we aim towards some better kind of development, consisting of concerted projects, constantly instigated to defeat the mad elements that rail against the august order (which is not an order but merely a kind of anthem, or monument). We can move strenuously to mad locations in our minds - mad topics - and yet not get to that point where we can loiter forever to get the true spiritual creation ready; a fact proving we are still barbarians... or sycophants. Nevertheless, I will say that we can sing and dance until the breaking of the world.

We do many things, but there is a lot of strangeness in visceral temporizations. Good simplicity can actually aid us in liberty, but we may lose the assertivity of real damage. Actually, I spend so much time doing what is actually the case, that something may result out of detail-based reflection, but our kindness is only the restriction of disproportionate activity. The restriction will aid us: but the hallucination of freedom must not be underestimated, since all things are unknown.

Art and work are closely related. We see that a man can only have a distinct profession if he makes his work count on every corner. However, his wishes to make the world a better place lack some kind of meaningful entertainment, and we don't succeed in life. We must make the most of life. The thing is that there is so much under the sun that we do not yet get. A good man can power through the limits of the ordinary world and create paper conclusions that force through the juridical attenuations that will one day make the future of mankind manifest. The constant pressure of the possibility for freedom is a thing; truly, here we see the promise of capacity which is situated in our race, because we are just the oldest sect in the world. And there may be contrasted refutations in the harbour of our deepest desire. The strange thing in our deep cave under the surface of the Earth is that there is truly a moment where we can admire the contours of the better Earth where the wanderers of the old world still linger and we make sense of the compassionate clamour; here, our horror hides and we still must elucidate the qualities of the best empire that thought could bring forth in the consideration of the life of us; the thing determining our wretchedness in opposition to the fortunate rebuttal of the clang and pounding of war, but there will one day be peace of mind. Confucius must certainly wait for us in some area of the eternal world. The truely gentlemanly acquiescence. Besides this, I have no real faith, beyond the things that we expect, because there is always a great deal to expect for the life of us. So, in a nutshell, terrific events are waiting everywhere in this world around the buildings we built, and the street ever extends into the great beyond. The great structures of liberty and the liberal arts have given us only sorrow, as Ecclesiastes said: the more knowledge, the more grief. But in reality, there is a liberation from the ignorance. Truly, we shall achieve serenity in the gardens of Babylon or the colosseum. There will be some kind of expert attitude that we can adopt: truly, we can learn this from history, for the great kings of time watch over the common people forever. The true condescension of combat-situations does result in compassion, and so we can expect great things from politics in the future, but the question is, who will be deemed worthy? Will there be literal heroes? We have seen that the greatest men galvanized endless masses of wretches who are now considered the most dignified people in history. What will the future hold? Some kind of anarchism? I do think that we shall see a certain sacrality coming to surround the discipline of philosophy, because in fact we do see that people seem to be entirely unscrupulous people, but the slow march of ideas and scholarship continues. The cosmopoeia of liberal proportions, where liberty lies, is the governing pension of the truly proper life.

It seems during our lives we can make a vast variety of choices. Every day is a cornucopia of possibilities. However, in the course of our lives we rarely really have control. Most of our time is spend searching for food, or putting our house in order. In this way, we are confronted by a terrible state of affairs. We have to face the day. We make choices all the time. Once we have made the choice, is there any way that remains for us to carry out our task? It just happens on auto-pilot. Sartre said: we are our decisions. Some decisions we make in the here and now; others we have made long ago. Am I on auto-pilot now? Yes, partially: I have decided to do something; I have decided on a methodology: there's nothing more to be done. I can, if the moment allows for it, focus on future events; or I can just wait for that moment to arise. This is the process of decision-making that we have to understand. Without this understanding, there is no equanimity. I can make decisions beforehand; I still have to decide in the moment itself. When we philosophize, there might be a predicament where we dwell on a thought. Then we should simply stick to the plan. There is no philosophy outside of communication; and communication is life. When we articulate a simple position, our compassion may overflow in some final song, but the chancellery of compassion is a true sign-post of the endless labour of the state - verily, of a kind of overzealotry, that shall be fatal to the subject in the last analysis. I can set forth a disposition in the doctrine of political fervour, but ultimately the best men do only what is humble and kind.

I see the ordinary things happening all the time. I really think the future is coming on, but a reflection might flow out of our focus, and so we sit quietly: truly, remission is still a predicament of liveliness, and our finitude will be overtaken by our justice.

[newagesurvivalist]

Jolly capability

The art of the creative is certainly hard; or, if anything else, it is unusual. We can do so many things in life, but the great acts of life lie somewhere in the pedestalled vocations of life, which are just ritualistic repetitions of some deep-seated human need. We are turning and turning in the widening gyre: our life is entirely unpredicteble - indeed, we grasp at straws, or we just seek to do whatever we wish to do - and nothing ever really happens in our world, but there might be, suddenly, a distaster, a calamity, for God's sake. And so we wearily return to our office or workshop, seeing that there is ever only the labour to be done, the toil and sweatful activity that determines our life. We are just a cog in the machine of state.

In work, we see there is a great of trial and error. We can remain stuck in a certain situation, or simply find ourselves confronted with the big blue emptiness of employment. We look for wisdom; this is indeed very hard to find: certainly, it is almost impossible to find. Most jobs have a clear, distinct function. But this function will perhaps also reveal something fundamental of the human condition to us. At the same time, we see that certain individuals have a profound place in history as conduits of the world-process. In economic history, they've tried to subvert all that, to display the world as a process of little people working together. Truly, the effects of leadership versus speculation, toil versus administration, truly makes it look like there is no rhyme at all to history. But we all have to somehow make it all go along fine, because we are all just clever figures; and the best thing in life is indeed to be happy in your work.

Nevertheless, there is the promise of learning. School is deemed the necessary location for young people, even though nothing taught in school really sticks in your mind. There might be things that are truly edifying to learn; namely, the things that will give you some kind of artistic viewpoint of life, but we find that there is nothing really artistic to anything that is done that makes any sense at any level, concrete or abstract; at which point we see that our purpose in life is probably to "make a living" as Kierkegaard said; yet, that is depressing somehow, because I don't see life that way. Verily, Schopenhauer said that we find out at death that we wasted our life, which is even worse to say, but when you think about it, you can specialize in any particular trade and it will still be used for evil ends, or it will just be vain. The worst thing about it all is the confusion in the world. It is true, we really do need a universal language.

The weirdest thing in existence is basically that we can see harmonic truth in the most blatantly trivial thing. And in the weirdest way, the institutions that we deem highest, healthcare, science, defense, culture, these things are altogether trivial in some crazy way, because all that matters in life is to live it, to experience a day of true insight, to ride into history and venture one's life-blood in something everyday, something eternal, which is something Jack Kerouac ruminates about. The great leaps forward in history of course came from people just hanging out and working together, or somehow seeing true class in their dignified colloquy. On the contrary, I will find there is that great liberty in raw emotion; and verily, there is upgrades in something that we cannot really set forth in normal things, because we cannot control astute intensity: the comings and goings of society are lost on us, because we do not allow ourselves to feel the passage of time. I suppose that would be why people prefer a life of crime to a life in the service of a company. I daresay it is still madness though. As Schopenhauer said, the point in life is not to see what has never been seen, but to think what has never been thought.

We are going to die and this is truly a frightening notion, but there will certainly be deliverance in the application of our skills, and to develop ourselves, to become cleverer, more adept men; and to join in society (to make ourselves useful) or to somehow become integrated in the fabric of society, that is to truly excel in our discipline: this is the essence of urbanized life. I don't know what we ought to do in normal situations, but we really do want to aid our fellow man in becoming better; to heal, to come to rest; verily, it is the human desire to perform above all else, to set an example, to make a difference, but in the end all he has is his work.

I don't know what I mean by being yourself. It seems the best advice, for anyone who gets into a social situation, but the thing is we are always already stuck in an inauthentic situation. People can do a variety of things, and the point of our philosophizing is certainly to be the best we can be in any given situation, but the best thing in life is obviously to have a profound sense of what our life is worth. History can certainly give us insight, but it scarcely can provide a meritocratic answer to life's predicament - and the purpose of work is probably to get and achieve glory. Is philosophy glorious? Certainly, it is only a way of life, a method to delimit our useless wallowing. Certainly, history is where the essential knowledge is located: but I daresay it yields little in terms of bounty, because we simply need a life's work, and history can be a life's work, but then you choose hard work over reflection, body over mind. The happiest we can become is always to simply have money, have food and have good health, and these things we tend to have o'er the majority of our life, so there really isn't that much to regret about life. But, as Thomas Carlyle said, the reward of work is not money, but the labour with which the money is earned. So I daresay, any job can be good and it is not better to be a philosopher nor to be a historian, or a mailman or a priest, but we must apply ourselves to any job and focus our attention on it. Above all things, man must be glad to have some wisdom, that he may live life the way he wants and not in some way that was in some fashion thrust upon him.

I daresay we really don't have any real resurrection in the facility of normal action; forsooth, we lose all semblance of rationality in the contrivance of meritocratic motion and so we are total fools, but an ordinary man may make sense of the sessions of government and so grow wiser in some inexorable way; making him, truly, the hero of his latter day happiness. However, we see there is a consistency in the application of virtue, because there is truly just consistent villainy in the contours of meritocracy, and someone may consider the truth malleable and yet never do anything appropriate in his feeling; why, in fact, he is just a lacklustre fool who builds castles in the air, and his endless striving is a meaningless parade in which there is no deliverance; why, the truth is that he is just a fool who wants the best he can have, but there is no calibration possible in the confines of normal attitude and his feelings are vapid; so, in truth, there may be results that stem from his application, but he will lose all his feelings, all his focus to the simplicity of his ordinance, and therefore he will not be able to set forth his liberty: certainly, his best work may yet be waiting, but he has no idea what is real in the totality of existence, so what is really going on is that he may set things in motion (against all odds) and in this way become a glorious creator of a better sense of the eternal world. But these are all insidious affairs. The great men of the world build castles along rivers and organize vast organizations even though they may never see the end of the vast parade of enemies and jesters who seek to undermine the logic of the world with dangerous cutthroat practices. Still, there may be some kind of salvation in this ordinary situation of everyday toil. As we ply the streams of happy despair, we acknowledge the deliverance of the everyday commanders of the longue durée, who will at some point show us what is there and what is not there; and visceral highwaymen will at that point seek to trivialize our contentment in a fell swoop of distinction and misery. However, we will see there is hope in the final moments of our agony. In the fear of lacklustre freedom, suddenly, because of the slow progress of the social institutions and the revolution of the populace against the power-hungry despots and chieftains, there might be an upgrade against the terrors of our hope and glory, and our temperance will arise suddenly in the vexation of our deep life, bringing us, finally, to a greater kind of repose or a higher love. And this, of course, is the promise of religion. This is the calling of history. This is, then, the completion of philosophy.

[newagesurvivalist]

The terror of divinity college

We see, that in the vast peculiarity of pure life, something will continue to remain centered in the entire world. Everybody sees these remarkable situations that arise in our feeling, but there is nothing true about it, nothing especially benign. The truth remains a constant flux of mistakes, and we do not know anything - yet in the last analysis, the truth will shine forth in a complete and excellent manner.

I have often regarded simplicity with virulent happiness, and this was a complete surprise to me - but the endless meandering of the best men who made our brilliant state will forever be indebted to the various things that we see. Politics is an outflow of history. I have said it many times, because I really believe this: the theological worries and sculleries of flow and time are constant, and we see certainly that truth does happen in the last analysis, but we do not regard anything with a proper eye, for it is all folly.

There is certainly a truth that echoes through all of time. Religion has always been the harbinger of this strange philosophy; it only tells us that same thing we always already knew: that we need to contemplate, or rather figure out the constant idiocy of life, its trajectory and process. We don't know anything, but verily there is a lot of extremism in terrible things, and it all comes and goes - but out feelings curl up and we forget the basic conundrum of existence: surely, everything is absurd, and it is all incredible, but the few of Lordship who maintain the truth will certainly stand fast against all these terrible things. We do what we like, but there will constantly be reminiscences in our silly feelings that can never sustain us in the final excursion in our harboring against the silly structures of endlessness; the truth hides in these things, and there will be deliverance.

[newagesurvivalist]

Lordship and dignity

We see, that a man may preach incredible truths, and yet seem a fool. The world is an incredible place, and people will flock around great minds even as they decry their way of life, because they like the concept of romance and liberty. Nevertheless, the bookmen of true virtue elucidate a tremendous system, that nevertheless has nothing to do with the occurences of freedom and authenticity, and in this wise the constancy of logic and grammar is poured out in a senseless libation on the grounds of the great kings. Here we encounter, then, true virtue, the simplicity of the ordinary man who nevertheless studies the truths of the world with great ardour, and who stands up for what is right in a way that is truly noble and meaningful. He does not cower away from the purposes of the world, but he doesn't desert the line of God either, because he truly wishes to do what he can: serve the greater good. In this way, things aren't really good or bad, but in essence we are consistently moving away from the glorious revolution, and in fact instating a paranoid, lacklustre remonstrance against the powers that be. But a simple act of kindness can change the course of history.

We have stated, in so many ways, that there are different problems in the known world. Getting up every morning, going to work, going about your business: it really seems too much. But this is just a constant endeavor in the concept of the world. We cogitate, and in this wise contribute values to the greater good, but there is still a bunch of idiocy in our constant war with the power that be. Until we lose our minds: this is the shallowness that we truly see in the war with ordinary people, that are, nevertheless, in a continuous battle with the party of the true king who wishes to instate a newer order, a better world somehow that can deliver the little people from their continuous horror. And so, the regret in the villainy of disreputable distinctions in the corridors of normal time (the impotency that we see to undercut in the base-principle of our limitless life) is what we are lost in, because of superfluousness, in a way that makes us truly believe that there is a way out of the predicament of senseless work that will nevertheless aid us in accomplishing the best conclusion possible for all.

There really is much to be seen in what we must call the cosmic unification of the mystical prayer to the infinite. This is what we truly encounter in the indifference of sheer activity. The best things we do are silly, and someone may mean to say whatever he wants to say, and yet move past the things that matter most. That is a serious predicament. The political unity of our real society is still imbedded in the intellectual considerations of the infinite life of the senators that designed our state, but the philosophical uncertainty of life is such that we lose sight of the shore, and our happiness is overtaken by the maniacal men of the great horde at our gates that seeks to destroy our society. Really, the conundrum of everyday life remains how we can even survive in a society where we do not have the right to bear arms. The religions of the East surely teach us that there is but little time, and the true good is only the health of the body. So really, the frivolity of theistic zealotry remains relevant in the continuity of visceral life, but a good man may build a ziggurat of peace and glory in the mesapotamian hinterland and dominate his neighbours, even though there was never any resolution in the variety of happiness that we all wished to make sense of in the dire way we are in, but there is actually still hope and the Zen of the old masters (or rather the dharma) can in the final act save us from folly and depravity, and give us a form of freedom, or justice.

Certainly, there may be a situation that may free us. But this is completely unrelated to the problems of our livelihood.

A man may have serious limitations in his happiness, but still wish for the continuity of his life. That is what we might call: escapement. The good man needs to be like a finely tuned piano.

We do not regard history in the best way. Everything is just a brilliance on the horizon, moving nowhere - but a wise man may erect great structures in his time and make a difference in the continuity of sheer life. He must be truly this virtuous man of God who makes a difference in the land with peaceful, harnessing work, that somehow causes people to repent and seek the truth again with all their hearts. Surely, that is just a simple treatment of the happiness we need, but I still think that the true meaning of the gospel is hidden in those phrases. A apophatic prophet may seek God in the best way possible, the contemplative way, but he will never achieve unity with the exalted mystery that still goes through everything and that suprises us at every turn. The best of us is the strongest, but that is just a lie; the wise man is also strong, but he must be a meditative hero to truly connect the horizon of the restrained with true power, such as it inheres in every person and everyone needs to make amends for the damages his has caused. And so, the truth, such as it inheres in everyone, makes the complicity of the bandits readied in the battle for the mind that lies well o'er the visible world, and therefore the happy few who truly resist against the Lord's makings, can perhaps stand their ground in the final moments of the eternal struggle against the manipulators of the concurrent world, and the media.

The things cannot be truly contained. Viscerality remains in the dark places of simplicity, but strategic masterminds may be able to transcend the remnants of the world and make a big deal out of the littlest remainders of the concurrent world. Sensibility, such as it continues to make its impact, is still the eternal remainder of the visceral world, but the man who continues his stride against the belligerent automatons of virtue will really make a difference when he does react against the eternal fire. The things that go on in silence and reconstruction shall certainly help us contain the greatest flow of time, but bardic muses of the real kind of mettle that we see in combat can really sustain their infinite song in the beauty of singular repentence and reminiscence. However, the moving tide of limitlessness continues, and there may not be resolution in the final act of our harrowing descent into morbidity; at the same time, control, in the countryside, in the empire, may be salvational in the contours of reprobate fear and uncontrolled rage, that continues to flow and ebb in the totality of theology - still waiting around the corner of every palace - to sustain damages in the corroboration of actual facts; going around and around in this gathering storm, the passage of time will actually contradict the palaces of remonstrance, and therefore in the final stages of this terrific struggle the best of us shall certainly regain the upper hand in the fight for peace and justice, but the freedom of the ordinary folks will certainly not be guaranteed for the coming couple of years.

[newagesurvivalist]

The test of time

We are running out of time, in the sense that we are running against time: life doesn't provide any answers, and we are constantly completely flabbergasted, but there will be deliverance; in fact, the movement into the endless unknown will give us a kind of holy resolve, and this is verily the best we can make of the kind of things that suppress us in every regard, and make us feel significant. Nevertheless, we have to prove ourselves. The literacy we are seeking lies in the development of skills and the growth of our character - but these things never stop in there consistency, why, it is a continual struggle. We are running out of space. But we are situated in an infinite world with sublime borders, that expands in every direction. And in that sense, we have plenty of time, we just don't have any common sense, or rather, we don't recoil properly at the sight of tremendous abysses of revolution. The superb manliness of action is limited by the excesses of tropology, because we do not see the contours of the bigger world, which is just a noise in the chaos of life, but we see that a man can achieve stature and composure in his self-discipline. However, his ultimate objective is to set forth doctrines that have practical purposes, yet at the same time contain a figment of liminality in which the essence of logic lies - verily, he just needs to contain his vigour, and move elegantly from simple truths to complex discourses, which nevertheless are meaningful in their simple demonstration of the facts.

Maybe this is all absurd, but a man can certainly recover his manifold trajectory if he just fights against the psychological (demoralizing) influence of big cats who survive only in the darknesses of our minds and have no quarters in the ship of state, but it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is what we ought to do.

Every man must play his part. If he acts, can he still meditate? Man must ever so often sacrifice his happiness for comfort; or, in a tight spot, admit that he knows nothing. These are the horrendous affects of his Earthly existence - and all he can do, to make do, is to put his hopes in animal instincts, even though that will mean wretchedness. A man can live life on his hacienda, looking here and there for Christ, but never really live: or, he can be the most fine and logical artist there ever was, yet no, at any point, achieve structured thought, become full-cast in the Lord. This is why we need language. The stateliness of language is such, that it can actually improve us even in the most isolated locales, and we'll marvel and worship the colossal miracles of sheer Godhood, yet persist in trying to go forth into Spanish country, where we hope to deliver ourselves from slavery and sin: this is excellence.

What we should actually refer to as, no existence, but actually the things, or rather, the affairs? Just referring to it as stuff seems wrong - for stuff is about matters, just like forms refer to ideas. We see it truly, as a constellation, a collection of wiry dots, but that is not a cognition, that is a metaphore. We see, that Schopenhauer's word objectity comes awfully close, but that can never transcend true objectivity, and is actually a weakness in his system. What then? Let's re-examine the old caesarian word entity: that which is. To think about the world in a truly philosophical way, we need this word, for entity is the borderline of cognition and metaphysics. I think, therefore I am. Imagination is more important than knowledge. We cannot see beyond what we believe, but true genius is possible in, indeed, learning the principle of an exercise and reflecting on the immortal Logos (and its little brother, jest). Einstein spoke of the joy of understanding; so likewise we may speak of the exhiliration of wisdom, because we truly become greater and great by getting by in the impossible world of entities.

Certainly, whatever we seek to see in this context is invisible, since in time and space there are certainly no correspondences to any higher truth, and natural processes of recovery (of sanity, of prudence) are inscrutable as well, and nobody really appreciates their vagueness.

In truth, the constellations of okayness are prepared in this constant sense, that people do what they do, but never achieve, the revolution of sense-meaning. Data, or the corroboration of facts, is informal, and the variety of spontaneous villainy is superb in this total sense, that we do not achieve peace of mind in this entire, swirling mass that we may refer to as resurrection. But happy nonsense is certainly not our aim. In every way, our purpose is above all to recover the meaning of life in some direct way, and remain on point somehow, to value syntagmatic revelations and rebirths in the watchfulness of debilitating figures of speech and conundrums, that we still find in combat and pottering, so that, in fact, our entire artistanry is based on developing wise skills and keeping up with the changes in life and space and time, but this is not the discrepancy we really need, why, it is a continuous crashing of capabilities that confirm our mysterious desire to be as happy as we can be - but there is truly no return to the way we were, it is a symbolic etymological journey that has no bearing on the contours of space and time that we find in physical and metaphysical speculations, but this is a constant sensibility and people will ultimately recover there happiness in this misery, which is just the gladness of mind that is found in rebellion and upstart reminicence in which we hide and hope to find capability. But verily, existence has a meaning in the last analysis, and this redundancy will not be eked out of the norms of yesteryear, in which there are still reverberations of the better kind: but our life is still stuck somehow in a stupidity that is actually just a very relaxed kind of confession, and we are sworn in in the courts of the magistrates who still hope to make ordinary life work for the best of us, who still work tirelessly to spread the Gospel and so on and so forth, even though the basis of kindness and life is always covered in a deep place somewhere away from the civility of life and time. So what we really see is that we are extense. The mobility of privacy is so that the deflated hopes of philosophy do still live outside of the academy, and our purpose is really to rally ourselves in, what should be called a new science. And this is perhaps the science of reason, but I daresay it is more like the science of replique.

[newagesurvivalist]

The modern devotion: a meditation on fate

There is certainly a need for edification, but we can only find this in the pleasant repose of friendly science, that lies somewhere in the structure of our everyday undertakings. A man can dedicate his life to God or to freedom, but he will never encounter the endless in which he has placed his trust, because he is somehow stupified (he chooses at times, and cannot unchoose his superintendence). Of course, modern thinkers shall overthink the meanings of his choices. Wisdom, or something like it, shall infest the ruminations of the wise, even as they try to stick to the rules of their good Lord. In the end, our notions of wisdom are as irrelevant to simplicity as the practical wisdom we use to be aware of the changes in the world, or even when we read the newspaper: and in this wise, we will stick to categories. Death will take us to the depths at some point, and then we will be remorseful, but we can find some kind of unfetteredness in the contemplative life. In the last analysis, our shelteredness will suppress us in some sense; or, failing that, it will support us in our decrepitude.

The thing we see in government is that the entire world is somehow just a result of the ordinary things that we try to see. We must continue to study and improve our stead, but there is a lot of vagueness in this regard, so we stick to certain rules that we can follow, that we can live by, in a sense to avoid hypocrisy, but also to leave some room for wonder. This is a clear substantivity, that moves liberally in some inordinate relation, but the phantoms of liberality will always support us in the final structure that our desire still upholds, and some clever man will always send us debauchingly into the abyss, which has no more to do with our ordinariness than any sheer resolution; therefore, we are still stuck in the repetition of sheer inordinality, but we cannot respect the machinery.

A holy man will therefore be required. Certainly, the power of this singular monolithic force shall steer us in some maniacal direction, but the wise men of the old time will always keep us in a bad way, edifying us, but never holding us at the point of reclaiming the dead waters of hope and glory, because we are sincerely the moribund glorifiers of the holy order; still hiding in the entirety of existence, an individual will not see the control-center of these variable things, because he is not a simple man, but he will, at the same time, keep his tension ready to support the new world. A good politic against the feebleness of genesis.

This brings us to that fatal flaw of academic thinking: it cannot escape from engineering philosophies into social doctrines. Verily, wise men engage in speculation from the ground up, and they do not seek to continue down a particular senseless path only to cover ground that flies below one's feet anyway. Truly, he just wishes to send missionaries unto the road and restructure time in a way that shall allow us in some bicentennial way to refurbish meaningful communication to suit particular ends, and that will send men roaringly into riotous assemblies that have nothing to do with high-tech industry, but frankly, only with arcane-minded priests and hoary old generals. The true sage must in this wise always control his mightier frontline to set up a siege against the ignorant who cannot subject themselves to the higher Lord, who is still hard to make out in the darknesses of spiritual crisis, and this is verily a maintenance that will never be returned to the control center of computer science, which is just a result of endless work: nobody will ever see things for what they are, because we are just kleptomaniacs who have no better use for knowledge than the ordinary children of the Lord who build castles in the air and keep the essence of life obscured from the villainy of proper cheerfulness, and this result of endless labour is still the meaning of life (in the last analysis). Be that as it may, there is still some kind of mystical or mythical ordination happening in the value of the Lords work, where we still see contrivances happening in the build of visceral virtuality; here, the motions of the stars are reconvened in some higher reality, whereby distinctions between collateral choices are subsumed under the rubric of pestering revolution, makings us forget the ordinary work of the best men who still want the best for the world, and sending us, headlong, into the effigies of maniacal creativity, where there are no more controllings in the totality of space and time; and people will certainly see the moribund autarky happen in the categorical ways of the old style of thinking; people only had the European framework at the time, a framework contructed around the promise of God and the power of the mind, where will only find complacency and analysis, or simple breakdowns and formulas, and this is not brilliance, even though there might be an analytic truth.

The true problem really is scholarly science. People encounter complete crafts in the professionalism of normal work, but they cannot reveal the misery of the commonplace actuaries who build the structure of actual time. A kind of vendetta exists in the search for appropriate action, and people will always discover there might be some release in the violence of relentless creation; this is still a sign of the normal times, that will suppress us and derail us in the last analysis, but will never send us forward into magnificence and will not regain superiority in the entirety of the universe: why, everybody simple ruffles the feathers of the old fathers, who make sense of the revolutionary world, but holy kings will not break the mold of vampires who construct the meritocracy of the greatest kind of heroism that will suppress us in the final way forward: and everybody simply wishes to go on and forward in the misery of ordinariness, that will somehow complain to the God of war that there will be some kind of recluse from happiness: and this is truly what we see all the time. That there is no escape from structure.

So we see that villainy is just a sign of holy writ, that combines us, in some dark way, to election and this will never support us in the confines of liberality, and the kings will not do anything to save us. The poor men of the old world who do what they can to live forget about the happy world, and this is all nothingness: nobody cares about it, and it is silly. But a wise man may come to teach us the truth about ordinariness; why, he will derail the ordinary from the set ways of yore, and move us upwards. The king of the Jews will collect us in the final days of the master. And some deep thinker will perhaps make us see the light of the mind to see in the dark. Nevertheless, supportive entities of vision cannot sustain us; we struggle and suppress, and this has no connection to the virile contours of idiocy, but we may enjoy some part of it. Ultimately, there will be repose, but it will be situated in a terrific predicament; and that will certainly cut us down.

[newagesurvivalist]

The siren song of anonymity

Life is strange. We are, immediately, lured astray by the movements of desire (the ruse of desire?). I guess we can see there are many oblique movements in the variety of pure existence, but these are not actual references: there is only constant replication, which is a direction of happiness - nothing more, nothing less. The bureaucracy was organized on the principle of hopeful conduct, which is now the merit of the shamanistic replicators, that will house the power of the Lord forever; this is a noise-rebuttal of the nagging application of sensibility and intuition and this goes on. A man can make a visceral joke: this shall surely make us fear the moribund reflection of the manifold assertivity, which is still living in the plan of the entire populace, building castles in the air. The authority which structures existence - the potestas - is certainly a recurrence of the good old days, which do still live on in the work of the actuaries; and to do actuary work is definitely exalted, although few know the actual processes of it: why, it is verily just a repercussion, or resonance, of the pretty good replication of the manifold, who build castles in the air as I said - and this is constantly a sign of the times: good things will continue to happen, but we must seek to admit that doctorates are not meaningful in the constancy of the stoic sage, or be that as it may, the circulation of vegetative or comatose licks of the language: and verily, language speaks.

Aristocratic love, a function of moribund assertivity, verily lives in the market of vicissitudes of good and bad, which continue to live on even in the curious cases of feeling and distance. There is certainly a kind of tyranny in the construction of normal society, and this goes on until the very end. However, the colonial program of sex and death is now happening over and over again - even in true silence, which happens under the auspices of the ancient bloodlines that will succour us in the silence of rock'n roll or something like that: and this is a threat to bureaucratic, dignified power, because we forever worship not dogma, but grammar. In this sense, grammatology is very dangerous.

Dead facts, militariness, verily continues in our factical deprivation or privation and life truly is a circus. I encounter visiccitudes in the normality of sheer redundancy, which really makes me pine of the scenic worldviews of the good men who were once satisfied with what was little enough to be squashed by the machines of war and this is really a reminisence. However, our fantasy of the strictures of visibility truly goes on in a particular way (because we are stoned to death by the limitless authority of solvability) and in this interstice we concur with happiness, battle and combat. So in the end our hope is pinned on not religion, but really on Earthly authority - and we just used the church, in so many ways, to achieve peace of mind - yet there are infinitely many ways of life and we can verily live in any way we like; and of course we are kind of stuck in the accreditations of the museal noise and feral sentence-structure in which the totality of theology and bureaucracy is captured; and obviously, no man likes to be a bureaucrat, so what we see in history is that there is slowly the development of the independent office and so finally, of the column-paper, the magazine of news-based essay. Reading the newspaper is for me not some way to pass the time, but truly just a form of philosophy, a métier, an commandment. Anyway, I really admire the spurious facts of fiction, which lie crazily close to Islamic theology, which is not theology at all, but an alternative form of metaphysics. I will read the Quran when I am ready. The female power of memory is structural in the retribution of virtuous happiness in theory even: so we are confused about the actual nature of theory. There is a facticity in the endlessness of space and time that is reflected in the very act of reasoning, and this the direction of true happiness. Yes, we can really grow in awareness and simplicity if we just use this vigour of carnal hope and visceral energy that is concealed not in day-jobs or scribal mail, but actually in the Christian or shamanistic contact of community and help, of goodness and decency, of malingering and laconicism. Because what remains is always that there is no liberty in oppression.

[newagesurvivalist]

Contentment and purpose

We don't get to decide if our actions are glorious: history decides this. A well-known phrase went: true glory consists in doing what deserves to be written; in writing, what deserves to be read. These are truly the most amazing things. We want to write, but truly, these things, of literature, of creativity (of happiness) are trite and tiresome, and have nothing to do with the ferocious war machine, that undergirds our every single swing, our every maniacal strike; and so we see, the purpose in life is found less in these simple, memorable things, and much more in definitive delights, in beautiful, or uplifting moments, and in life itself.

The fake essence of everyday things is in no way connected to that ethereal peace of mind that surrounds the palaces of normal activity, in which we find some kind of abode in a way that makes us believe what is right in the natural flow of methodologies. We are stuck in the believability, of essences and of stridentness, in which our ordinary renumerations are fickle and in a certain sense, regurgitatory. But the therapeutic world-view of normal things revives the remunerations of the normal order in which people sit around and hope for happiness, and so simply the world-work of happy reactions is given some supremacy in the entities of sheer redudancy and happiness in some normal essence, which means that we can, in fact, do what we can to change the normal world, or set a course to the normal workplace of happy identity in which the essences of the world become stuck or replaced, even though there is a consistent requirement, in the essence, of simple, reflectional correspondence in the truest way we can recognize, the misery of dislocated firmament. And this is truly the requirement of silly identity, so that the hope for relocation is verily just oppressed, or somehow misunderstood.

[newagesurvivalist]

Existence

It's true that we don't consist of happy particles. The truth is a mess. You can't do anything. Am I a good person? I was better. I try to be the best I can be, yet our life runs out of steam. The sad affects of idiotic life subsist in strange generations, our love is going to grow foolishly into vagueness. I say what I say; however, there are essences that move weirdly into autarky. I don't know. We may get what there is to get, but ever grow into idiocy - and this is a shit-pile in things. What we like to do is marvelous. But we see there is much craziness in our lives: the things that don't matter are manifestly opportune and so sick situations occur to us in droves, yet still there is noise in affairs which cannot subsist in strangeness. And so, the flow of things is disrupted, or something.

What do computers know? The endless mechanism of being a sorcerer with numbers, actuarism, is a nasty business. Things go on. It's silly to want to make people happy. I listen to country these days; sometimes it all sounds like rap. This makes me indignant. So this guy he tells me that according to him there is no anger in me. Doesn't that strike you as bullying or torment? I am indignant. That means I am angry. People say, when you are incarcerated in a mental ward, that you do not recognize the fact that you are crazy. Even to autists they say this. And they consider that to be your problem, your disease. However, I would claim that a psychotic person usually has a better sense of what is wrong with him than the psychiatrist does. It is like Freud says: your revolt (psychosis) is just a tip of an iceberg, and below this lie the endless drives and desires that cause this behavior.

Am I smart? I used to think that I was, but that was a delusion. The endless parade of strange things continue into nothingness and suppress us - but in the last analysis we feel something and we become aware of better lives, better trajectories of monstrous depravity and innocence but these are all sounds of freedom and maniacality.

The thing about acting is, as soon as you drop the act, people will think you're crazy. In the last analysis, you will forget what your normal behavior is. So in a way you are demented. This is a cliché about autism. They say you just need time. When time doesn't help, they will say you need medication. It's that sick. They don't really have a solution. All they have is brutality. There is saying in China that when you have read half of Confucius' analects you can rule all of the Earth. So we see they are all actuaries. All you need is a bit of poetic licence and then you can make people do anything; or, as Holden Caulfield says, if you say something people don't understand they will do whatever you want them to do.

[newagesurvivalist]

A meaningful life

We can't figure anything out. Life is a silly exposition. We don't succeed in our strivings. We have to think. We don't have to work as hard as possible. There are good jobs in which you don't have to work all that hard and yet think: that's great. Personally, I believe novel writer is a lovely occupation, but it ain't worth much. You need experience. Nevertheless, there is also a lot of work in which you simply have to coordinate vast amounts of data, manufacture. That's actually a blessing and a curse. You'll have to concentrate, but you also do more valuable work and so you can earn more and so take more substantial vacations. Science, theory, manufacturing will always yield positive results, but it is difficult. What do we have to do? Be a columnist, that's the simplest life. When you're a columnist, you never have to stay in one place. It all depends on occasion, of course, but you can always write a memoir. Napoleon said: show me a family of readers, and I'll show you where the power of the nation lies. Reading is writing. But it will not change the world. Theology will change the world. However, that requires a sacrifice. It takes more than reading. But you don't have to be a theologian your whole life. Are you a real reader? A man can play many parts in his short life. I figure I could be the Greta Thunberg of the spiritual crisis of the world. I like women. I once heard a foolish man remark that women, in Christian art, represented virtue. I think they rather represent purity. I don't think women are better than men (they are certainly a lot less reasonable!) but I do think they are a little like children in that there is something uncorruptable in them. A woman will never choose solely for money. She always lets her heart decide. And that reminds of a line from Alladin: princess, when did you last let your heart decide? Because, right so, women often don't have the opportunity to decide; more than men, women are unwillingly taken up in the currents of life. As people like to remark: she had no say! Some men find that gives them power of women, but that is truly a rare thing, by God.

Weird things happen all the time. We do what we can to know ourselves. This is not easy. We can be creepy, or sartorial, but there is unity in our reverberations. Simple life can be good life, if we have standards, but a man may act on principle, and in this wise, become aware of everything in his mind.

We have to face off against the terrific forces of authority and spirituality. So we see, that everything is in some ways the meaning of actuality. We do what we can to subsist in the ordinary sense of the word, but there is a lot of actuality in the consistency of real things; and we find what is going on: it is a sign of the times that we never really know what is going on - and yet, freedom happens in the ordinary things that happen. It is all shit, and yet we can escape from the ravages of slithering repercussions that go nowhere. In the actuality of silly acceptance, the visibility of ordinary time is automatically lost, and we can do something with our hearts, that are aimed at the Lord. But it is all a constant flow of insane madness, that we don't know, we know what is real in our hearts and we want to make something out of ourselves. Feelings are real; and our compassion grows for feelings of happiness, and this is our constant feeling, this is our curse. However, the reaction of feeling is insane, and we do not experience revelatory powers in the normal sense of the word: the things that we like are semblances of our real feeling of hope. All what we encounter is similar to the constancy of sheer time, and in this constancy we encounter real feelings of normality; and we want to be who we are. And it is all a constant of similarity that goes into the drain of compassionate revolution - that we really need. But the essences go on and it is a weird continuity of real time, hidden from the eye, but visible in the normal act of life, and yet our hope is corridored in the visibility of feeling and it is all ruminational soundness in time and space, but our feelings continue and repress us at every turn, even though the happiness of time is significant in the normality of spacious nonsense.

We see that we have to behave. However, there is no reminiscence in the system of hope. We do what is all right in the eyes of God. If we eat and drink and are merry, a time will come when there is no more feeling in the vastness of ordinary freedom. And yet, our hope is in no way set in stone. The temperament of hope is listless and yet we don't reverberate in the happiness of space and time, but I don't know what any of this really means, because there is liberty in the actuality of simple things that we do and experience, by God, the nonsense of appropriation and silliness. In fact, a stuck up fool may say a lot of things, but he will never know the true meaning of the gospel. Or of any holy book. I don't know. It is all madness. I know, that the existence of ordinary pillars of goodness and holiness are connected to the conduction of revelatory understanding that really happens, and this is what we all know: it is a Mexican stand-off of insignias connected to the be all end all of good appropriation, that we nevertheless encounter in happy accidents that we all want to see and that we want to do. You see, I never really thought I needed to embrace every single hero of the old world, because I don't love many things, I just love what is good and pleasant; and in this wise, the existence of ordinary gentleman becomes a thing: there is no such thing as a natural.

By the way, I have found country music.

[newagesurvivalist]

Revolution and liberty

Little people become great people through action. The point of life is certainly to do what you can, but the thing is that most wise people do tend to end up with many doubts, as Russell said; and it is verily the case that in a world of religion, the best thing we can do is certainly ponder deeply, because we want to find our métier; but it is verily not so meaningful, in this wise, to believe in something, perhaps, because we just want to be ourselves: but we can be ourselves, and verily we don't have to be intrigued by various things, but verily I don't even want to subsist in an economy in which I have to pretend to be something that I am not, i.e. a Christian - and I have said it many times, "I am not a Christian" (like Russell) but I verily do like the ordinary things, the wise things that verily matter a great deal and that are our cause in life, our hope and dream.

The thing is that we can do a great deal with the little time we have left; and verily there is no reason not to take shelter in God, if you will - and one could even study theology and so on and so forth; but verily it is perhaps equally important to just keep doing the ordinary things, the things we love to do (and I do pretty much enjoy writing quite a bit, although I am often confused). The great thing about the modern world is that every little thing has become dignified - we often miss this. But even the silliest job - I am thinking especially philosopher - has become totally respectable and companionate. We love to see people discuss the metaphysical truths of the world, even though we know this just stems from our own confusions, our own desperation: but as a wise man once said "Do not dispair!" Verily, we can do things professionally and be absolutely fulfilled, but the thing about the best jobs in the world is that they aren't so much about being fun, but truly about being constructive and collaborative; and in this wise we see the ubiquity of meetings, but this is actually very rewarding, but we see also the ubiquity (or actually the loud absence) of the book, i.e. people just don't write books anymore, they just have meetings, and this is seriously sad, but there is a lot to be thankful for in the continuous conduct of life, the beauty of sheer life and freedom, and everything is nice in the end because we can practice our beliefs, but verily there is not really a thing: verily, all we got is our job, our needfulness - and this is in fact something Nick Cave said, he said "It must feel nice, to know that somebody needs you."

Our situation is therefore verily quite bad. The beauty of a book really exists, but in life there is perhaps almost no reason to think because we only find actual meaning in Christianity and Buddhism and the lot, because we don't need to talk so much, and the subtle truths of philosophy are just a sign of our own inability to do anything seriously: and so, philosophy truly is a frivolity, but nevertheless I feel great promise in it, and there is a promise in it, in that we can really expect a philosophical career, why, I will say there is a indissoluble link between philosophy and religion; and it is truly the beauty of theology and religion and philosophy that we can somehow free ourselves from all dogmatism; and then, yet, somehow return to the call of the Church, which is a lovely situation perhaps, but we are still free: which is truly weird, I mean, my dad said nobody really takes the church seriously, but it is weirdly the case that we all live in this wise and we try to live and somehow the church really helps in this, and we want a meaningful life, but we can verily find it outside of the church, I really think so, but I doubt we'll truly be atheist, I mean, as Nick Cave also said, devotional life just has so many rewards, that it seems God's existence is just a technicality; and verily, Scripture is a terrific thing.

It really seems we can include religion in our life, but at the same time there is no real status in things, why, I really think so: the only thing that is constantly there is necessity, and we are followed by this all the time. Truly, only by reflecting on the nature of the church did I become the captain of my soul; and my sister even said that this is presumeable what constitutes a meaningful life, when you are truly the captain of your own soul: and this is perhaps why she and many others probably meditate, although jogging is also very good; verily, I feel that there is something great in clearing your mind, but this is just a thing that I got from Star Wars: I really don't know what the difference is between Christianity and Buddhism, and I really like Christianity as an institution, but I don't really know how I feel about the way they do things, I mean, it really just seems like a big pile of deceit, even though I suppose the great truth is that it really works somehow, but these things don't really connect to the love we are supposed to feel. I mean, I believe in irristible grace, but I don't really know how that fits together with the gospel; but the gospel speaks to me much more directly than the old testament; but this is all unimportant, because it is not, actually, my job to understand all these things, and I don't feel particularly attracted to the Church per se, I mean, I don't know what I want, I don't know how to make ends meet; maybe if I ever hear the voice of God I will become a priest, but I really don't see how this is ever going to happen.

Equanimity is a joyous reward, and it can spring from a course in theology perhaps, and I would attend philosophy probably for the same reason people meditate, although it is hard for me to imagine how that is supposed to work: I mean, to me it seems terrific to do something good for your community: and isn't priest just a very good job somehow? I keep reflecting on this, but right now I have learned to let it go, even though - as they say - God is my rock.

The thing is, it is all vanity, as Ecclesiastes says: I think that will never change. However, we live in an amazing world these days. There is truly so much to live for. I really think that. - It is truly amazing to live in a world of love, of caring; and I think this shows the true power of the message of Christ, even though people have forgotten it: why, the modern forms of socialism, are they not the fulfillment of what everybody has been praying and meditating for? Verily, we don't have to toil anymore if we really can't, the poor can be looked after, we won't stop until all men will be brothers. That is a noble striving. But there is more, and this is why I personally believe that religion will never go away, for the world is still a hard place: alienation, superficiality, theft, crime, these things are fundamental in the world, as Nick Cave said: there will always be suffering, it flows through life like water. So what we really see is that there will truly be catharsis in the end, but not through the noble works of reformers (as we will also see in the climate crisis) but verily in the divine compassion and the patience and meticulousness of philosophical investigation, of obsession and madness, of self-knowledge and sanity: these things will remain.

[newagesurvivalist]

Stuck in the middle

We can't quite see the amenities of life. Why, I completely fucked up writing again. Nevertheless, there will be information and facts for the free man, the man of dignity. And here we will see the eventual collision of dreams.

As we plough through life, there is a frankly miniscule area of nonsense that we may have to get used to, to see through the endless cascade of myriad phenomena. In a game of chess, we experience moments of glory, incidents of greatness and sequences of cleverness. Sometimes we can wonder for what reason there is indeed so little to say at distinct times. It seems there is never an occasion to speak; or failing that, it doesn't seem worth it to say anything. In that paradigm, chess changes a factor. People are involved in a story in which the idea is ever the same, but the finesse is ever different. We see, in a game of chess there are a degree of life-lessons. The analysis, the concentration, the art of chess-playing is verily a fountain of inspirations, of salvations. On the other hand, it is just a game. Our attention goes out to an entirely artificial system which has no real-world connection. I like chess, as a sport, because it is very intelligent and has a lot of unexpected depth to it. But the thing is, we all do things, but there ain't no total meaning to work: we're all just stuck in mediocrity, and there is no way forward in the foundations of simple work. We try to live in a direct and logical way, but the liberation from life only comes when we livingly move into great stuff. Everything is stupid, but we try to stand up and come on, so that we perhaps don't need to play chess - in truth, there is not exclusivity to our daily routines, but verily just an infinite cascade of clever plans to make life a little bit better: and this is work, philosophy, heaven, Earth, command and discipline.

The words of The Netherlands are: I shall maintain, je maintiendrai in French. These legendary words come from the Protestant war hero William the Silent. In my opinion, he is an inspiring figure, but his struggle - possible the purest of all Christian struggles - stands out in its emptiness. In William's time, people breathed religion. It really was just a way of life. But the dramatic and subtle constructions of the Protestant theologians fall into dust when seen in the light of the Dutch rebellion. What was it all about? After William's death, The Netherlands developed into a prosperous and refined nation, with high quality art and great maritime and economic power. Did religion contribute in any way to this? People speak of the Calvinist work ethic; it seems people really did try to come into a closer, deeper relationship with God, but the enterprise of church society also shows that there was little to no concreteness to the articulations of the reformers. In many ways, this really is the true birth of realpolitik. Released from Catholic ritualism, the Protestants were free to focus on the task at hand and make an effort to institute a wordly state, one governed not by classes of monks and knights, but solely by administrators and stewards. Although there was still a lot of confusion, or one might say traditionalism, these stages betray the erection of an objective, impartial government.

I suppose this is all very unusual. The sounds of reform cannot be found in the normal straights of vehement logic and happiness; however, there is a chime of uprightness in the viccissitude of magnanimous life, which is full of eventful happenings: yet these strange affairs do not amount to anything substantive: the comings and goings of being stuck in madness sends us maniacally into the mystical territory of colonialism and veritable simplicity, just a conniving subset of menial attractions, but the constancy of meaning supports us in our combat versus the infidels, and there is much to be thankful for. In fact, the mania of systematicity is a fact, as everything is collected in information, and so although our lives are hollowed out the truth is suddenly re-envisioned in uprightness.

Contemplating the meaning of life is probably the most general act of thinking, or being, that we can do. Is it also the most futile? In a great many ways, thinking about the meaning of life relies on definite practical insights that occupy our mind and which mark our life. However, freedom lies in finding truth in details or occurrences. Language spoken can populate our existence with notions, with meditations, with reason. Obviously, human nature is to inquire penetratingly into the practical aspect of words, namely what it requires from us. At the same time, society depends on titbits. The purpose of the essay is certainly to treat of titbits, so as to make people enjoy them, or our of necessity. Information, facts, are found in scientific and scholastic disputations, but also, in humanistic collequy. And then you will say, what's the worth of base talk? Of deliberation? To do the not-doing, to clear one's mind, to become aware of the invisible creatures inhabiting our cells. I don't know. Life is an endlessly uphill journey. All we can do, is dissappear and reappear, come and go, live and let live. Happiness, true happiness, is winding down from tension - asserting non-assertion: wo go forth and multiply, yet we love each other. There is much to learn.

The value of a job is that you do meaningful things in a relaxed and organized fashion, but there is also the simple of process of dealing with the fall-out of determined fighting.Vincent van Gogh typified the human soul as a fighter, or contender. Verily, there is a fight going on, and things explode from time to time, leaving us without means. But there is a way of peace, of stalwardness, that nevertheless gives us the chance to prove ourselves. What can we do? Verily, what is lacking in life is people's appreciation of pretty conviviality, of synergy; we wish to move collectively to a higher goal; we like a unity of mind, togetherness, also freedom, that there may be work without responsibility, kindness without entrepeneurship. Why, what I find most appealing about contemporary society is truly the office space, with optimistic men and women showing up to work out problems, and tell the truth about a great manner of things. The things that mark our life are ever found in the catalysis, refining the mad grandeur of motif sorts of creative enterprise, because our desire remains to set forth subtle and invigorating philosophy and pay proper, sensible respect to the supernatural powers, to the factual anbd informational things. Certainly, a belief in God is sometimes a matter of course, a method through which we may recognize the possibiliy of answers - and we observe that conversations convey only the absurdity of God, or the im-possibility of religious guidance, religion. We see that there will be indeed a liberty in ministry, a lack of recognition where there is culture, indeed the solitariness of culture. So my positions stays that the world is destroying itself for no reason, liberties hold out against the horror and beauty of culture, everything returns to the same place. Our task is not to change the world, but to agree with it.

Potentially, that is all reverberating strangeness, but the hope of life will support our industry till the end, when there will be gnashing of teeth et cetera. However, our support does go forth into freedom; happiness continues to brighten our day; and freedom can give us respite in the last analysis.

[newagesurvivalist]

Questions and disputations

Life offers us a variety of problems and matters for consideration. Thought, that boundless source of occupation, is moved uncontrollably between day to day affairs, mantras, abstract speculations, aspirations to greatness and success (or perhaps we should say, sensibleness), and, of course, our search for meaning.

Certainly, it seems we need a lot of affirmations during the day, and this is a common theme in wellness buzzwords, that one needs to affirm one's own happy existence - his sweet life as Shakespeare called it (Midsummer Night's Dream) - to be more content or presumeably see some great, as of yet unperceived joy about his or her life. However, to me it appears as if ones true intrepidity, his richness and luck, is verily found in a certain sternness of spirit, in fact, why in nothing more than persevering or holding out during one's time, or, in fact, continuing forever with the simple routine God has deemed him fit to perform.

The process of acquiring factual truth is terrifying. Frankly, we are often taken aback when attempting to fathom excellences in concrete theory. Speculative confrontalism is unlimited, but foundations are found in divine contemplations. The how and why of predicaments is full; however, in principle there may be a difference in the conflagration of contemplative derailment and psychology. By all means, amendment has to set the particulars of confusion to a directive. Eternity, in a theological sense, aids us in the assention of hope in a valid and actual showdown between liminaries and cognitivities. The graphic, of nominal disputation, is full of diminishings in the wholeness of distinct areas of freedom. The capability, of sheer remembrance, has some relation to the simplicity of significant description, and yet the revolution of commemorative indomitability may aid us in a discrete way, but this will always haunt us in the last analysis.

These are crazy things, but the strangeness of life is always going to make us say unusual things. The inner and the outer are distinct. In our inner life we move chaotically to find some fixed point or foundation; in our outer life we state the obvious and rail against enemies, or seek to stand our ground somehow, but as someone once said: there are no enemies here.

A well-known Dutch author referred to the television as the "treurbuis" or weeping tube. I am moving into my own place this month and one of the things on my list is to purchase a television. However, in a weird way it frustrates me. I love to just sit and allow time to pass; in a way, this is my main hobby, but some - weeping, sorrowful - part of me does desire a television in my house, as if it wouldn't be a house otherwise: that's almost the thing, that I am just desecrating this entire zone of my own house to another man's idea of "home", of having a spell at home. Somewhere I am thinking I don't even want a television. It's like, you can just hae a room with maybe a radio, bookcases, a piano even - and then you can dwell in your house in contemplative concentration, doing what you like and frolicking a bit. It is all about the "duur uw uur" of Albert Verwey. Life is really not composed of acts, but rather of routines, and our mission is truly to be the best we can be in the limited time we have: to do something meaningful, to develop our repertoire, to be happy in our work.

In practice, there is no knowledge: from there comes the notion that academic philosophy is not knowledge, but sport, custom. However, there is a time and place for philosophy. A man can consider the mysteries of the universe, but he can also fight for them, wage a war. In any case, waging a war is the only time ideas are completely relevant. Not because war is supposed to destroy another. On the contrary, we see that the philosophical war is aimed at growing each other in knowledge, to some extent. The capital is the cerebral. We strive in life to achieve some degree of elevation, to escape from our wretched predicament. The thing is, we can find ourselves involved in a variety of art forms, and each genre gives us opportunities to become fuller, wiser individuals. The point is to take on certain projects. This is all more than simply passing the time.

We decide what is good. Religion is dealing with humans. Yes, we can't always understand religion, but all religions have a cause that keeps them together, a design and order. We don't need order, but we do need a cause. This is how people congregate.

So we see that there is no way to fix our attention entirely on an idea. All ideas constantly vie against each other. Conquering oneself is an illusion, for if it isn't the cosmic truth that satisfies us, then it will be some passing problem that bugs our mind. But so we do see that we don't really need anything to relate to our fellow man. All we need is a cause. I will state that the best thing for us is to embrace a certain lifestyle. It could be Punk Rock, but frankly I feel more attracted to more national themes. The best thing for us is to find some common ground in the metaphysical quagmire.

Life is truly diverse. We move from the inner to the outer, and then we are swamped by crazy problems, but there is a simpleness to the foundation of the world that can be found even in an untroubled, easy stance to life's affairs.

[newagesurvivalist]

I retreat into my room

So just now I was just considering when I wanted to sit behind my computer, if I had to. And I kind of have to because I have to type this damn blog. So I decided on five o'clock. It's like, it's a neutral time, like, when do you want to be alone every day? It's kind of heavy, really. That's what's on my mind.

(Actually, in emulation of YouTube's LGR I am just gonna make a blog post on Monday. Friday IT day, Monday blog day, Tweeting twice per day.)

(I could also just dedicate the whole week to making one blog post.)

[newagesurvivalist]

The contours of life are magnificent, but there is a limit, a borderline. The strictures of villainy subsume direct moments in the simplicity of visibility; this causes a vehement disability; and all people simply have to keep going on with their present business, to avoid losing their minds. But it is all foolishness. We see, that in the gardens of resplendent life there is a chance for redemption, for liberation; but people have to keep guessing at the meaning of various signs and arguments that suppress the ignition of reprobate construction - and it is all motion towards an indistinct end: one that is, moreover, very far away and very obscure. Can a man move his business elsewhere, and free himself from insanity? He can, if he discerns what is within his power. Of course, he will want a simple causation in the happy memories of his limitless life; one that is full of being free in your own business, but a man may have to structure his gambling in a hat of lots that are drawn by a hoary old master. Is this truly the virtuous life? A man may have to do a great deal of enterprises in the totality of existence, to prevent himself from forgetting himself, his station in the collection of life: and people may see the liberation of sinful men from the structure of love and pain that somehow directs us motivatively to new coasts. I don't know what I am supposed to think: the world is very complicated and there are many dark problems threatening our livelihoods at every turns; and no man can make sense of the little things of this world. We see, that there is constant waiting, a kind of wasting away, that is housed in the language of our ideology, but this is not an ideology, but merely a derivation from the sense of being. We all live in an existence, but it is a kind of essence that rises from the construction of the weighty world, that is actually, directly, a kind of continuous essence. I see the meaning of these things in darkness, the transmigration of in-seeing (introspection) that undermines our hope. Everybody matters, because everybody contributes to the project of life - all beings need the truth, and every being can extract himself from suffering at any point. The Lord does not grant me a vision of the future. It is all decrepitude. However, there may be a chance for liberation. I don't know. The contours of syntagmatic attitude is decrepid, but the divinity of this problem continues in the magnetism of the freedom that is granted to intrepid colonists, who build homes in the valleys of the Rio Grande or the Potomac. Everything matters to the constructors of the liberatory transcedence, pervading the essence of time and space. Affluence, the good tides moving, falling man, turn the page, restructured essence, a battle being fought in the bay of Mexico. This is the construction of the greater economy in which ordinary people fight for rights, but the truth about rights is that it is combative and translucent, and veritable men help the ordinary workers of the world to re-educate the dangerous foes of the combative order, holding everybody in a stranglehold; and yet, there are endless regurgitations of the felicitous glory in which manly men hold out till the end of time. This is structural repercussion. No matter how we turn it, vision is returned to the sightless when they make sense of the world. Our contentment is tantamount on the perilosity of mankind: and everybody is granted a chance to redeem himself. The truth shall set you free.