A lighter note

There has been too much consternation in the past few notes I have made, so let us concern ourselves with the stars instead.

 

The air is so sweet on the beach, and hearing the tide combing in and out is a luscious joy. I wonder, if all those eons ago, when mankind dwelt not on this land, who was there to enjoy the singing foam, the waves that rushed in and retreat out with their dulcet notes? Only the trees were there…I imagine myself, sitting there with those trees, all of mankind’s long history not yet scribed by men, and I imagine myself taking in the gentle joy of that tide.

 

I will not urge mankind to enjoy such pleasures…it is in vain! You are not worthy of such pleasures, this joy is for myself, and I enjoy it readily. Come, you can sit by me too and enjoy the tide soaking in and out if you so desire, but let us not talk, for talk is the food of fools who think themselves so important that they must be heard.

 

The Universe is much more vital, which is why its voice is sung in many songs. The rise of the morning breeze, the rustling of leaves, the splashing and crashing of waves against the rocks. Hark, are there any voices in this stretched sanctum? The golden sands that flush through my raw toes, ages have passed us, as many as those grains, but this world without boundaries knows not one moment from another. They spilled together in our world, and that recurring dream of sun rising in the morning, and moon rising in the evening continued like the dancing spirals of lightning crashing through the storm’s bosom in the nocturnal tempest.

 

Why did the world dream of man I wonder? What possessed it so? I would have liked that gentle dream, of the sunlit beach, running for a thousand years of quietitude…but man? Mark there, that glitter of jewels in the depths…is that man’s beckoning? Does this tranquility offend them? Let them be offended, for they do not exist, we know our ancestors and they know us…Nature offered us this place, and it was our refuge, as children.

 

No no no, I see you still do not understand! You watching from the clouds above, or peering through the trees behind, or squinting through a screen besides…none of you understand, how dearly you cling to your prison! How loudly you cry out, ‘No no no Kohath, be silent for you do disturb our sense of the world! I love my country, I love my woman, I love my cult, I love my culture, I love what fleets from me, but this eternal joy of infinite paradise, oh no no no, keep this away from me! I am tempted by peace, do not wave it before me!’ Ha! Have I shaken you yet? No worries, you will refute it very soon!  Some of you will persevere though, the philosophers, the ascetics, the gurus, you remember our sanctum do you not? Away from these braying voices?

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A glimpse into the bold dark

Humans are brutal, violent controlling robots, and with that fact in your arsenal you are truly free. You are freed because you no longer belabour under the illusions offered to you by other men. You no longer succumb to the drugs of love and war with such ease. You are confident of the illusory nature of this Universe and it is up to you to either embrace the reality presented or else refute its veracity.

 

Those of us who seek to understand are truly the mad ones, we are mad because of our curiosity which might unpick the foundations of our entire existence with one hapless tugging of our existential crux, upon which our society, our laws, our very social structures are so precariously perched.

 

Us ‘civil’ men, how civil might I ask you are we? We who have seized women, and obliterated their wills for the sake of our own sexual lust? Us who glorify the practice of war and tell young men that to murder is right, and that when they come back they will be counted amidst our heroes, and when they are returned, bloodied and bruised, no one cares anymore. We convince them that they will be heroes, and we treat them worse than scum.

 

You might think this a nihilist’s requiem, something to summarily consume prior to our self-appointed immolation, that poisoned pill before the embrasure of soaring constitutional disintegration. Perhaps that is the difference between you and a man such as I, who straddles the line between ‘not quite a man’ but ‘nor quite a psychopath’ but trapped in the vagaries of middling nebulousness in between. For you see, once we have affirmed our faith in science, and the conclusions it produces, then you have truly taken the leap of faith of any true scientist, of any true observer(us monstrous beings!) and maintained your sanity in the face of madness itself. That is as laudable an outcome as any that can be expected from us mortal vessels.

 

Once you step into our terrain, then you can still love the loves you crave.  You might still engage in a few bar brawls here and there. You might even allow yourself to be lost in the reverie of notes and music of a club, but you will be struck by glimpses, glimpses of what reality truly is, and it might terrify you, or else embolden you in your ventures, the security of this lush illusion we all practise and smile boldly at. In the utmost knowledge of this reality, you will either seclude yourself, shutter up your doors and batten down the hatches, withdrawing onto yourself until you wither away in self-reflection, or else you will be hurled further into your most furious of passions, assured that they are the last raft we have when buffeted by the cosmic forces of tremendous vastness that presents itself, an ever growing Universe which shrinks our own significance. The consuming pleasure of sensations can provide ample refuge against such a prospect, or else, perhaps understanding makes us more confident that if we choose to pursue a passion, it is not because we are being manipulated into its pursuit, but rather because it is a pursuit we have elected, acutely aware of its immense sway over our sub-conscious state. Through understanding, we consciously elect to our sub-conscious desires, though I suppose some might label this a calculated surrender.

 

I tell you this, if us humans understood truly what we were, for the information is all there, but if we garnered the fortitude with which to confront its tumultuous implications, then what might we be? We might be rid of the fear that pushes us to our war, to our ceaseless conflict, for conflict arises from a fear of others as Hobbes says, and our need for resources. Law is the tenuous adhesive that operates only as long as there is a sneaking confidence in the illusion of compromise, of mutual interest. Fear always returns though, as long as there is not understanding, for fear is the least complex and most reliable of evolutionary mechanisms in the preservation of a man. Not the preservation of scientific knowledge, or else the people we love, or else art or anything which civil society might consider worthy of maintenance. No, fear is the greatest guarantor, the ultimate defender of that genetic material we all convey which nature has deemed our great legacy to history. Our deeds might be remembered by men, but it is our faces, our hair, our noses which are remembered by nature, for our genes are the greatest storytellers in all of existence.  Humans are spurred on by self-interest, that’s as age-old a fact as anything else. No, but it is understanding which allows us to master our fears, truly master our innate terrors, and grants us the freedom to confront the immensity of monstrous reality, for we know what it is we are confronted with, and in that, we are granted the choice in how to grapple with it as opposed to being tossed and turned by presumptions, irrational fears and guesses.