What I say here will seem trivial to whoever ignores everything to which I allude. -- Dávila
With our new & improved format, or absence thereof, every post is at most halfbaked & halfbarked fresh each morning, with no past and apparently no future. O God help us in the hour of our dearth of ideas!
Neither forethought nor hindsight is put into it, just an insolent breach in the discontinuity of language, an invasion of the left brain into the right, or of day into night. A little bitty tear in the fabric of spacetime, so baby don't cry, don't cry.
Or perhaps it is an invasion by the dark into broad daylight. Wouldn't that be something!
Because make no mistake, and make it again: you are deceived by the clarity and metricality of things and are in desperate need of poetry and noetry and even worse in order to seed beneath the sufferance of the times.
I am just the manumit for your minervous wreckage, because this -- let's be honest -- is worse than poetry, it is ten minutes of belabored mindjazz in ten minutes of labored reading. We all have our unbearable crosswords to puzzle. This is yours.
Time past & time future aren't time present, and apparently not time at all if we are toburrow into it today. If there is to be continuity -- and sometimes there will be -- it won't generally be on the surface, but at a much deeper level.
For it has come to this: we are practicing a radical version of the suspension of memory, of desire, and of understanding, and placing all our trust in God or his unconscious deuputy, or whoever takes the wheel first. Turn off our minds, relax, float downstream, and surrender to the void. It is not dying. Of boredom, anyway. Experimental nonfiction, that's what it is.
As our first knowledge is spontaneous, so too will be our last. Not last in terms of time, but rather, ultimacy.
For as mentioned a post or two ago, nothing spares us the final leap back to a childlike vision in daylight, in nature, in wonder, in the garden. That we may finally see the meaning of within, amen for a child's job.
The intelligent adult is one in whom the child has survived and the youth has died.
Ah, but what is intelligence?
Intelligence is the capacity for discerning principles.
Agreed, but children don't know principles. Let's try anyway. Let's apply them first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Or maybe the other way around, like extreme unction.
What we propose to do is circle back to childhood via youth and adulthood, and know the place for the first time! Prayloud to a postcrypt. I just wanted to say that. No filter! That's the rule. The wisdom we lost in the knowledge, the knowledge we lost in the tenure, the facts we lost in the journalism, and what's left?
Only this deeeeep continuity. Not only is this a thing, it is the most important thing, for it is the very substance of philosophy. Science deals only with this or thatoccular thing or that spatial sameone, from atoms to molecules to organisms and so on. But what is the relationship between these? Obviously it can never be seen, only grasped. It is not empirical but intellectual.
Nor is it new. It's called philosophy. Or, you could call it "One Cosmos," emphasis on both terms, AKA the deep unity and deep order of everything -- not every thing as the sum, but rather, the ground of being that sponsors the very thingness of things.
Every thing, insofar as it is one, has at least one share of stock in the great corporate entity known as Being. And you'd better believe that this corporation is a person, or it would have gone blankrupt long ago.
But Being isn't just anything, much less nothing. For one thing, it shines. Or, in the words of John Lennon, it is shiiiiining. This morning, anyway. Nothing to say but it's O --> (k).
Our cosmology doesn't sit next to science but rather, above. Science is only at the adult table at best. We want to know how the particular sciences are connected to one another -- for example, physics to biology to psychology -- until we finally arrive at an ocean so simple, anyone can float on it. Let that sink in!
"What are these simplest notions?," asked Cardinal Mercier. Well, for starters (and aren't we all), they are simple and universal, and apply to everyone and everything, everywhere and at all times. The timelessness comes to put away grownup things, for
the process of splitting up cannot go on forever; a time comes when ideas resist further analysis; they no longer continue to be explained by previous ideas, but on the contrary are such that they explain everything else. These most elementary objects of thought by means of which others are understood are called the principles of things. They are called, too, the reasons of things....
Principles or fundamental reasons are the ultimate solutions to the problems the human mind inevitably proposes every time it sets itself to reflect upon the world or upon itself. They supply the answers to the last why and wherefore that reason asks.
I've never actually heard a child ask Wherefore? but they never stop asking Why?!
Immature people do, however, and they do so arbitrarily. Most people stop asking Why in college, apparently because the answers they are given there are sufficient to kill their anemic curiosity, and journalism takes care of the rest.
A philosopher or onecomosographer is simply someone who continues asking Why?, but not forever! This isn't a game!
Oh, wait. It is a game, but a game has an end. This isn't a game if it devolves to infinite regression; rather it ends in a progression to the infinite -- and absolute, and universal, and timeless, and simple. As that.
I apologize for the style of this post. I may not be adequate to the task, but someone has to do it. Or, put it this way: if you see something, say something. This morning I saw something.
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