Posted in Abstract?, Music, Yours Truly

Rot Alive

 

For those that walk amongst us and those that pass us by…

There is a slow drain of the purity…which with one finds in themselves the will to pursue alive.

In the infancy of this unadulterated form, lies a beauty that few will understand.  The more one has counted the time and the lack of their being, the farther they may get from any discernment therein.

For in each and every life form, there is a designed yet natural state.  It is the state to persist beyond life and to draw from the effect of the elusiveness…the will to drive oneself back to this , the purest of elements.  Infancy cannot be returned.

Like many that grappled before…there is the slow draw of the blood. Gradually, nibbling inside.

A parasitic appetite to feast on that which lives and breathes, in the most natural of forms.

Those without lifeblood, seek to extract others of this inner well.  And it is only with a small amount of dispensation, with which they will slowly begin the process.

It is these vultures of bound reason which asphyxiate the purest of life’s breath.

It is these vultures of seeming perception and calm which create outer lawlessness, so that one begins to lose their way…farther from themselves.

For every step towards life…there is one closer to the stillness of being.

And for the stillness that cannot persist, there is the rot alive…

Those that walk amongst us, yet truly breathe no form.

Those that pass us by and create stains that metamorphose into chasms of ultimate despair, into which one day one may fall and become much like them.

It is easier to rot alive…then to chase the purity which is closest to us, for in the stillness of being one can sense the impending flux, that is lifeblood re-entering and revives us of the rot encountered all around.

 

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Posted in Abstract?, Language, Unquantified fragments of numbers

“Man acts as though he were the shaper and master of language, while in fact language remains the master of man. ”

 

“…then he comes to the brink of a precipitous fall; that is, he comes to the point where he himself will have to be taken as standing-reserve. Meanwhile man, precisely as the one so threatened, exalts himself to the posture of lord of the earth. In this way the impression comes to prevail that everything man encounters exists only insofar as it is his construct. This illusion gives rise in turn to one final delusion: It seems as though man everywhere and always encounters only himself… In truth, however, precisely nowhere does man today any longer encounter himself, i.e. his essence. Man stands so decisively in attendance on the challenging-forth of Enframing that he does not apprehend Enframing as a claim, that he fails to see himself as the one spoken to, and hence also fails in every way to hear in what respect he ek-sists, from out of his essence, in the realm of an exhortation or address, and thus can never encounter only himself.”

― Martin Heidegger, The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays

Posted in Abstract?, Unquantified fragments of numbers

. . . δηλον γαρ ως υ μ εις μ εν ταυτα ( τι ποτε βουλεσθε ση μ αινειν οποταν ον φθεγγησθε ) παλαι γιγνωσκετε , η μ εις δε προ του μ εν ωο μ εθα , νυν δ ’ ηπορηκα μ εν . . .

“For evidently you have long been familiar with what you really mean
when you say of something that it ‘is’; we however thought we under-
stood it but now find ourselves perplexed.”
The necessity of an explicit repetition of the question of being
This question has today fallen into oblivion, even though our age
considers itself progressive in that it once again affirms “metaphysics.”
But then it also considers itself exempt from the exertions required to
kindle anew any γιγαντομαχια περι της ουσιας.
Yet the question here touched upon is not just one among others. It kept the inquiries of Plato
and Aristotle in an aura of suspense, only to subside from then on into
silence as a thematic question of actual investigation. What those two
achieved held up, throughout manifold displacements and “retouchings,”
on into Hegel’s Logic. And what at one time was wrested from the
phenomena with the utmost effort of thought, although fragmentary and
roughly incipient, has long since become trivialized.
Martin Heidegger
Being and Time
An Annotation:
Posted in Abstract?, Unquantified fragments of numbers

My Shiny Sunday: What it’s like to notice things

Phenomenology

Phenomenology is the study of the structures of experience and consciousness. Literally, it is the study of “that which appears”. The first time you look at a twig sticking up out of the water, you might be curious and ask, “What forces cause things to bend when placed in water?” If you’re a curious phenomenologist, though, you’ll ask things like, “Why does that twig in water appear as though bent? Do other things appear to bend when placed in water? Do all things placed in water appear to bend to the same degree? Are there things that do not appear to bend when placed in water? Does my perception of the bending depend on the angle or direction from which I observe the twig?”

Phenomenology means breaking experience down to its more basic components, and being precise in our descriptions of what we actually observe, free of further speculation and assumption. A phenomenologist recognizes the difference between observing “a six-sided cube”, and observing the three faces, at most, from which we extrapolate the rest.

I consider phenomenology to be a central skill of rationality. The most obvious example: You’re unlikely to generate alternative hypotheses when the confirming observation and the favored hypothesis are one and the same in your experience of experience. The importance of phenomenology to rationality goes deeper than that, though. Phenomenology trains especially fine grained introspection. The more tiny and subtle are the thoughts you’re aware of, the more precise can be the control you gain over the workings of your mind, and the faster can be your cognitive reflexes.

(I do not at all mean to say that you should go read Husserl and Heidegger. Despite their apparent potential for unprecedented clarity, the phenomenologists, without exception, seem to revel in obfuscation. It’s probably not worth your time to wade through all of that nonsense. I’ve mostly read about phenomenology myself for this very reason.)

I’ve been doing some experimental phenomenology of late.

 

Follow…

http://lesswrong.com/lw/l02/what_its_like_to_notice_things/

 

Posted in Abstract?, Music

“Leset fleizig die Alten, die wahren eigentlich Alten Was die Neuen davon sagen bedeutet nicht viel.”

Oh, how like one commonplace mind is to another! How they are all
fashioned in one form! How they all think alike under similar
circumstances, and never differ! This is why their views are so personal
and petty. And a stupid public reads the worthless trash written by
these fellows for no other reason than that it has been printed to-day,
while it leaves the works of great thinkers undisturbed on the
bookshelves.

Incredible are the folly and perversity of a public that will leave
unread writings of the noblest and rarest of minds, of all times and all
countries, for the sake of reading the writings of commonplace persons
which appear daily, and breed every year in countless numbers like
flies; merely because these writings have been printed to-day and are
still wet from the press. It would be better if they were thrown on one
side and rejected the day they appeared, as they must be after the lapse
of a few years. They will then afford material for laughter as
illustrating the follies of a former time.

It is because people will only read what is _the newest_ instead of what
is the best of all ages, that writers remain in the narrow circle of
prevailing ideas, and that the age sinks deeper and deeper in its own
mire.

Schopenhauer

Posted in Abstract?, Yours Truly

Master and Man: Раба Любви

A Slave of Love

Хозяин и работник

MASTER AND MAN

A slave of love, to love, for love.  What one wouldn’t do to be master of much. At which worth does one become other or the one…ever none.

Within limited spaces we tread these bisects. One can easily waft from one to the next.  Perhaps lingering in one or the other out of necessity or even want.  It is not a question of restraint of some kind as may be observed in an obvious sense.  It is not a question of perception, yet of something much beyond our own logical grasping.

Intelligence holds that one should become master of himself.  Also, so as one enslaves…they too may become the very things they worry for, create.

From which perspective does one draw the culmination that it is not one or the other where the distinction may lie.  Human sensibilities may only deadlock conclusions from limited space of the body and mind.  Yet, there is something that eludes us in the brume which enclaves us.

These innate reflexes with which one takes control over some aspect of their lives, in a barren attempt to crystallize the role between master and man.

The disregard first and foremost of whom is the benefactor and what exactly is up for the offering, becomes a dance in theatrics of the mind. Perceptions of tangible means which are contrived through and within the master or man.

One must persist in the thought that they have become one or the other; too oft in the gambol of their lives.  Convincing one or the other of their supposed roles and what that may define in their minds.  It is an ashen expanse where one cannot truly grasp just how the other is inclined to passage their reasoning through movement.

There is a cataleptic state in which one may enter upon realizing just the power of sensing this delicate structure between perceived state of master and man.  A glaze on the being through which one begins to experience some more dynamic notions of the  power one holds on this state.  Yet, how one is also powerless in many other faculties.

It lends itself to an inner accord in the self.  A connection to a seemingly disassociated contemplation.  The unfastened and broken fragments between master and man, begin to connect themselves in a nobler order of the misrule.

In a larger depiction of the terrene which surrounds us,  bridges us movingly towards itself…ourselves and ultimately, others.

The role of master and man…one waits ever so calmly for the role to appear.  For if not one, master of much, then the other…

ever none.

 

Only fables present the world as it should be and as if it had meaning.

Gӧdel

 

 

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Posted in Abstract?, Ethnobotany, Music

Dews and Rain for Your Benefit

“When I look up at the starry heavens at night and reflect upon what it is that I really see there, I am constrained to say, ‘There is no God.’ The mind staggers in its attempt to grasp the idea of a being that could do that. It is futile to attempt it. It is not the works of some God that I see there. I am face to face with a power that baffles speech. I see no lineaments of personality, no human traits, but an energy upon whose currents solar systems are but bubbles. In the presence of it man and the race of man are less than motes in the air. I doubt if any mind can expand its conception of God sufficiently to meet the astounding disclosures of modern science. It is easier to say there is no God. The universe is so unhuman, that is, it goes its way with so little thought of man. He is but an incident, not an end. We must adjust our notions to the discovery that things are not shaped to him, but that he is shaped to them. The air was not made for his lungs, but he has lungs because there is air; the light was not created for his eye, but he has eyes because there is light. All the forces of nature are going their own way; man avails himself of them, or catches a ride as best he can. If he keeps his seat he prospers; if he misses his hold and falls he is crushed. Mankind used to think that the dews and rains were sent for their benefit, and the church still encourages this idea by praying for rain in times of drought, but the notion is nearly dissipated.”

John Burroughs, The Light of Day

Posted in Abstract?, Music

Fire of the Mind

 

 

Does death come alone or with eager reinforcements?
Does death come alone or with eager reinforcements?
Death is centrifugal
Solar and logical
Decadent and symmetrical
Angels are mathematical
Angels are bestial
Man is the animal
Man is the animal

The blacker the sun
The darker the dawn
Flashes from the axis
Flashes from the axis
On the hummingway to the stars

Holy, holy
Holy, holy
Holy
Oh, holy
Holy, holy
Holy, holy
Holy
Holy, holy
Holy, holy
Holy

Man is the animal

The blacker the suns
The darker the dawn       

Posted in Abstract?, Music, Music History, Yours Truly

First Time in The Castle

 

 

We all bear the keys to some magic unknown.

This power to forge and found, where seemingly unimportance exists.

In pupilage…these mighty sentiments ran replete.

But the earth and its constructs…build dungeons of unknown height, descending into the depth.

A depth which at times, becomes all consuming.

The magic…masked by the nonage, brief and gaining upon its enchanting end

The walls become thicker, the air of roughhewn strife…abounding yet lacking, still in  deepest breath.

Quivers of doubt…assume the mortar for constructed grief.

and the swift air’s lullabies signal the draft…for sorcery and its eventual demise, in factual form.

 

We all lose something of  great effect, in the transition from bairn born…to developed being in form.

We lose the keys to the castle…the keys to some of the down-reaching affectivity of what it means to be human, to encompass soul.

To sense and to know…what truth is in form.

There is a first time in the castle, a passage that may never be brushed upon again.  Whether through passage or concurrence, in places known.  There is a sense of impending doom attached, to knowing what may have been lost.

The path to innocence,  a small cleft into the breach of the castle.

But, if one fails to even see what this path may signify…this cleft becomes a chasm.

An abyss of which we peer into at any habituated chance in time and place.

If one cannot even angle themselves in the presence of such things, the keys remain pointless.  The cleft, impenetrable.

The mere presence of progeny, symbolizes a fathomless glimpse into a world of possibility.  A world where one contains sheer objective to subsist beyond physical mean.

These are the keys…

this , the first time in the castle.

This is the beginning extension of narrow…

and the path away from the very meaning of how human soul may be measured.

How distant…the resolve.

child

 

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Posted in Abstract?, Music, Music History, Yours Truly

Belief is neither truth nor falsity…

 

Presence is deceiving…when allusions are formidable.

Savior of sovereignty…is not as he arrives.

One must take course , in winnow and wish…what they shall see and seek.

For all is not as It resembles, inward to out… ended in us.

Neither we can make lightness, in that which contains none.

A push here, a besom of image there…lightless assumes the form closest to us.

Belief is neither truth nor falsity…

Just as truth is not charm that becomes…us or any such patent things.

Those things we hold in sacrament…though we believe not to speak truth within,

nearly perfection, nearly downfall.

In the greatest heights…of the riches we hold to be truths

There is an unknown number of queries…one posits and discards.

Belief in a savior, inset… may propose or dispose.

Any number of queries, will deposit some form of truth.

One must take care…in the conviction therein.

Belief is neither truth nor falsity…

 

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞