Thursday, January 05, 2017

This life

The new semester is next week. I am not even done fully processing what happened the last one, and already there is a new group of people who will enter into my headspace on a regular basis.

I just got off from another day of work at the library. I thought this was going to be an evening shift, but it was a day shift. I misread the calendar. It's okay. I'm not working right now, when the morning time I would have had would have been spent in bed imagining multiple scenarios of unfolding events. Now at least I can do that and also move my body around and make it do things. Or have it do things. It makes itself do things.

The weather is about to turn very cold here in North Georgia. They say the snow will be three to four inches. That's unusual for the South, and they are never quite prepared to deal with the cold weather.The clouds are interesting to watch this time of year. I saw very unusual cloud formations the other day. My paranoid brain understood the weather patterns as symptomatic of HAARP activity. I say 'HAARP' but really I mean "weather manipulated through covert means." Weather-related economic depressions have curious effects on global economic conditions. Space-related economic conditions probably would have a lot of effects on our local situation. I am saying all this because I am trying to say that the more I learn about how advanced certain technologies are, the less surprised I am about the larger picture. I will not be surprised to learn that much of what we think is unguided, ordinary thermodynamics is also the handiwork of wayward godseeking machines.

Look. I know I'm not right in the head anymore. I know that adopting the reality of my particular insanity, following the flow of its own looping patterns, is unwise. It is not wise from the standpoint of reason or convention.

People look at trees, and I do not know what they see. I think, from what they say, that they do not see the trees as having boring or technical conversations the way you see human people near you. They do not see the trees the way they see dogs, or small toddlers, or hobbled old women, or celebrities, or their own parents. They do not see the many shades of people already around them. I think this about them, and some of the thought comes from interacting with other human people. I can see the tree that way. I also see the tree as talking to everyone around it using treespeak, with analogous forms of "verbal" and "non-verbal" languages. This is just part of the ways the world looks to me. There's a lot of looping already happening all around inside of itself, but some of it passes through a language that's "verbal" in every species, every object, every mode of life, every form of life.

  This, to me, is structure.

There is also a "non-verbal" language, but it's really all the other languages not "verbal." It is something that isn't capable of being put into words, since it lacks the kind of presentation for being that's amenable to the verbal. It exists, but how it exists is not something one can say.

  This, to me, is pattern.

Structure and pattern were to be two of the developmental categories I wanted to develop in my dissertation to make sense out of something else happening in the Pensées: the study of the cipher that translates non-verbal reality into the coded-but-meaningful reality of verbal patterns. The translation is a structure for translating words into other words so that the newly discovered words somehow hint at a deeper meaning that cannot be put into words. I cannot explain this right now. I wasn't really intending on talking anything about this.

I am trying to capture how my own mind works. This is also a new keyboard since the old one began malfunctioning. The hands are beginning to freeze, since I often just let the house grow cold when I'm alone. I like the colder weather. Once I started to do the hot-cold-hot-cold showers we learned about from the Seventh Day Adventists up in Wildwood, GA, I started to like the cold a lot more. I push the cold experience during these winter months. It makes me vomit how cold it gets. Then when the hot, scalding water hits me, I don't feel anything but liquid reality. The second time I grow through the cold, it's a lot easier. The mind focuses in. Every droplet of water shines intensely. I read small print on the soap or shampoo bottles. I smell the clove in my hair or taste the fennel in the toothpaste. I breathe and breathe and feel the cold catch up to me. When I am ready, I turn the hot water back on, but not by much. And then I have the memory in my mind of how to use my will to move and sustain the body.

I read recently in Wilson's Beyond the Occult about how attention is the basis for transcendence. To enjoy the wonder and amazing things all around you, you have to consciously and deliberately attend to them. As you grow this skill inside yourself, you will find more and more things amazing, alive, wonderful. He talked about his own experience, riding for hours on flights and practicing looking at things, attending to them. He said that once he felt it, he started to experience joy and clear thinking and the details all around him. He was amazed.

 I thought about my own experiences growing up, riding for long hours in a truck and drifting in my mind, imagining all kinds of things, overlaying those on top of all the hills and trees and signs and cars and fences and houses and everything else.

 I thought about how my eyes never stop seeing, even when I close the lids. I thought about how they find things for me to notice, how they've taken over my own teaching by having me direct my own students to Notice things, how it's usually the eyes that they see first.

  My mind is riding alongside, within, over, and under these things. My will is not always my own. My hands and eyes are not always mine. My thoughts are hardly my own. This keyboard is tiny.

  I don't know why I am telling you all of this, but part of it is because it's not just the cryptic or the confusing that I am to you. I am also a person who does not see himself at all. I cannot explain this to you well, because I feel like it is something outside of words altogether.

   But I feel like if I talk long enough, broadly enough, about whatever, then maybe you will hear what I'm trying to say without me knowing what I'm trying to say.


  1. Thank You for noticing this and reminding me of it.

    The WORD becomes flesh and dwells among us.
    The Flesh among us becomes word and dwells within us.

    The mutual growth of {WORD and Flesh} and {flesh and word} depend on
    antagonisms between the two and one another's similitude: how WORD and word differ mirrors, and how so is still unknown to my thinking and happily so, how Flesh and flesh differ, and how the contradictories differ ({WORD and flesh} and {Flesh and word}) {or however you want to understand these things!} mirror one another, too.

    It's easier if I draw it, but I have my limitations and my ruts.

    Structure and pattern, as words and flesh interacting, as seen from the attempt to see the other, to see pattern as structure and structure as pattern, to confuse the Spirit with the daimonic, the ultimately rational and the abyssal opportunities, without violating the rules for each without violating one's sense of self.

    This is to find peace within one's self and one's world, forcing one's self outward into the Self and the Worlds, into the mystery of the inconceivable and the inexpressible, and seeing the limitless possibility as the chaotic void.

    For, like Descartes somewhere says, potential being is actually Nothing. But before there were gods, the Nothing was a hole in the woman's body from which anything came, an anything who could rip a larger hole into the body of the tribe, the people, the race, the species, the planet. Portals to dangerous worlds or liberated ones, the box from which demons and Hope come, out of the underground, out of the earth, out of the holes and doorways, from the darkness of Nothing, into which all a man does, so they say, must fall and obliviate.

    The philosophies of women are no less obsessed with life and death, but they say it with a different feeling about respect, otherness, submission. Because even if we do manage to one day find a way to translate our words into their words and vice versa, we will lose something fantastic if we learn how to translate their non-words into our non-words, then we'll already have lost all the productive ways our non-words already collide into confuse between us, much less before we get to them.

    The Lucifer principle works because it tricks people into thinking they can never translate words into words, but they can miscegenate and dilute our solidarity and commonality. The flesh is untrustworthy, so learn to trust in words, because once we lose how our flesh feels for us and instead feel it how they want us to feel, we have lost our identity. A higher-order Lucifer principle then selects upon these same cultural forms by ascribing different reasons and motivations for how we prepare the next-to-come—how we even think about them or what they are or whom we include or how we give them a name or a categorical title, these are all important!—to carry our ideas along. These mechanics work against hierarchical mechanics, but both actively stabilize the growth in the same way our natural tendencies tug and push and bend and bind anything striving to live then die within us, within our selves, within our world, and as far as we can guess outside of our own influence. And we call it evolution, or just change.

    So if the dimensions are two, with the form of Word and WORD on the one and Flesh and flesh on the other, then their mutual resolution has to come in the form of a third category.

    Given my next semester's teaching, I conclude that my thinking has led me to understand that third category as LOVE and love.

    1. These are, I guess, all expressions of ONE and one, with the implicit boundlessness inherent in the suppression of multitudes by the constraint of trying to think of whatever's expressed by the lowercase use. What's a one? What's a love? What's a flesh? What's the difference between a flesh and flesh and Flesh and FLESH? Should there be one at all, or is this just a very stupid sort of question?

      Likely, but just because I feel stupid doesn't mean the words aren't working it out themselves some other way than how it clicks inside. All the times we learn from holding the pieces together add up to doing puzzles faster and faster through teaching the hidden minds to help and the open mind to listen . . .

      Listen . . .

      . . .

      . . .


Is this wise?
Is this yours?
Is this love?

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