The Past Comes Back to Haunt Us

Every writer comments indefinitely on his brief original text. --Dávila 

Is that what I'm doing? Looking back, I can see certain themes emerging as long ago as my doctoral dissertation, which was completed in 1988.

But for some reason, knowledge doesn't seem to accumulate in my head. While I'd like to remember what I've written about over these past 20 years of blogging, I don't. 

Which leads to the awkward question, is the cosmic bus getting anywhere? Have we made any progress, or are we just endlessly circumnavelgaziung the cosmic groundabout? Yes, we're stalking a miracle, but are we any closer to it? 

The Aphorist says that 

Religious thought does not go forward like scientific thought does but rather goes deeper.

Now, as indicated in the mysthead at the top of the page, the blog is ultimately about The religion the Almighty & me works out betwixt us. It is worked out afresh each morning via a vertical collaboration with O. I have no idea what will result from the collaboration, and I certainly don't know what O is, only that if I show up for the appointment, something will be worked out betwixt us.  

I suppose it's like journalism in that way, only in an inverse manner. In other words, journalism is done in the moment and for the moment, which is why nobody cares about yesterday's news. 

But these posts are spontaneous productions of that same moment, only from the other end, so to speak. One of my favorite aphorisms is that 

One must live for the moment and for eternity. Not for the disloyalty of time.

This moment is all we have, but it actually spans vertically from a kind of desiccated instant at the lower end to fulsome plenum at the top. Thus, 

Profundity is not in what is said, but in the level from which it is said.

Which is all by way of saying that I'd like to revisit some of our past moments on a weekly basis. We will take the arbitrary cutoff point of ten years ago, and select the best of what was written that week. 

In this case, ten years ago this week we were discussing an important book called Inventing the Individual: The Origins of Western Liberalism, which is described as "a grand narrative spanning 1,800 years of European history," in which the author "firmly rejects Western liberalism’s usual account of itself: its emergence in opposition to religion in the early modern era." 

Instead, he argues that "liberal thought is, in its underlying assumptions, the offspring of the Church." And of course he's talking about classical liberalism, not the illiberal leftism of our tyrannical progressives, which is the very negation of the liberal tradition. What follows is actually a synthesis of two posts. 

However, before getting to them. I would like to mention a post by Spencer Klavan that touches on our theme, to the effect that the left represents a reversal of the individualizing trend described by Siedentop, and instead plunges us back into the collective. 

That is to say, the progressive left pretends to speak for various "marginalized" groups, but in so doing, effaces what makes them unique under the rubric of victimhood: so-called "political empowerment" is gained at the cost of individual and cultural impoverishment:

political ascendancy is actually really bad for countercultures. It drains them of all the cool and panache they get from living life at an odd angle, turning them into drab and tedious pseudo-Sandanistas. Say what you will about gay people, but we used to have style. Now our flag looks like Thomas Kinkade had a seizure and splattered his color palette all over the wall. Subcultures are supposed to be edgy variations on everyday life....

For example, black music was so much better when blacks were more than just faceless victim-mascots of the progressive left. 

*** 

One theme that emerges from the book is that while it took centuries for the individual to be disentangled from the group, it has been the work of less than a century for the left to re-entangle us in the hivemind.

For both Siedentop and Berman, 1075 is a truly revolutionary, world-historical turning point, for that is when Pope Gregory insists on the independence of the church from secular authorities. 

As a consequence, the king, at least in theory, is demoted to a mere layperson instead of being the locus of both spiritual and temporal power. Indeed, he can't do that, because only Jesus can (and by extension, his ongoing embodiment and temporal prolongation in the Church).

As always, timelessness takes time: it was the work of centuries for the eventual emergence of "Gregory's vision of a social order founded on individual morality," instead of one based on "brute force and mere deference."

So, suddenly "relations of equality and reciprocity are now understood as antecedent to both positive and customary law." Thus, universal law is disentangled from the particularity of custom, and seen more abstractly. This constitutes a "reversal of assumptions," such that "instead of traditional social inequalities being deemed natural... an underlying moral equality was now deemed natural."

This Great Disentangling "freed the human mind, giving a far wider scope and a more critical edge to the role of analysis. It made possible what might be called the 'take off' of the Western mind" (emphasis mine), vaulting mother Europe "along a road which no human society had previously followed." Vertical liftoff!

Here we can see how the left's retarded project involves a Great Re-entangling: again, it took thousands of years for "individuals rather than established social categories or classes" to become "the focus of legal jurisdiction." But now, thanks to the left, the individual is subsumed into race, class, gender, sexual orientation, etc., and we're back to where we started: post-Christian necessarily reverts to the pre-Christian.

"The papal claim of sovereignty" furthered the transition to the "meta-role" of the individual "shared equally by all persons." Seen this way, the self is the essence, while social roles become mere accidents instead of being in the nature of things....

Likewise, a new distinction is seen between the moral and physical elements of crime. Because of the new interiority, the concept of "intent" or motive comes into play: "intentions had scarcely been distinguished from actions in 'barbarian' justice." "Degrees of guilt" are perceived, and punishment becomes distinct from mere retaliation.

Marriage changes too, as measures are adopted to ensure that it is "based on consent rather than coercion." Also politics: instead of authority flowing in one direction only, from the top down, "The authority of superiors thus became a delegated authority. Authority is again understood as flowing upwards."

If we stand back and look at the overall arc, we see that "under way was nothing less than a reconstruction of the self, along lines more consistent with Christian moral intuitions." This ushers in "a new transparency in social relations," for now we relate to another person, not just his role. Conversely, "in societies resting on the assumption of natural inequality," this interpersonal transparency is obscured.

Another major development is the distinction between free will and fate, choice and necessity. If human beings are personally accountable to God, then this emphasizes not only our moral freedom, but the need for political liberty, such that we are free to exercise moral choice. 

In other words, nothing less than eternity is at stake, so the freedom to do good becomes a matter of urgent necessity; for what is free will but "a certain ability by which man is able to discern between good and evil"?

Note that if people are fundamentally unequal, then we can make no universal generalizations about them: there is one law for the lower classes, another for the aristocracy.

With this new self, there is a kind of interiorizing of the logos: instead of the logos being only a sort of exterior reason that controls events, it is "understood as an attribute of individuals who are equally moral agents." 

Here again, in the post-Christian world we see a regression to determinism, for example, the idea that we are controlled by genes, or neurology, or class, or race.

We'll end with a quote by Siedentop:

[T]he defining characteristic of Christianity was its universalism. It aimed to create a single human society, a society composed, that is, of individuals rather than tribes, clans, or castes.... Hence the deep individualism of Christianity was simply the reverse side of its universalism. 

The Christian conception of God becomes the means of creating a brotherhood of man, of bringing to self-consciousness the human species, by leading each of its members to see him- or herself as having, at least potentially, a relationship with the deepest reality -- viz., God -- that both required and justified the equal moral standing of all humans.

Artificial Transcendence and Other Impossibilities

Although One Cosmos is 100% certified transhuman, it says here that "An increasing percentage of the internet’s content is AI-generated." The authors know this because they've developed a model with a "99% accuracy rate when detecting AI versus human text." 

Now, it's one thing to distinguish between the human and subhuman, but I wonder if the model could detect divine authorship? 

Of note, the distinction between human and AI doesn't hinge on the truth of the writing, rather, the text "could be full of lies -- but for this investigation, we can only tell if they are AI-generated lies or old-fashioned human lies." 

In reality, AI can no more lie than tell the truth, since that would require freedom. But it seems that an AI model is better at detecting AI than is a human reader: it takes no one to know no one.

I personally can only detect AI in a human intellect. For example, I can tell when a person is speaking from an internalized ideology, because one immediately senses the "limits" of their thought, i.e., the bars in which it is imprisoned. A real intellect is limitless in its scope, meaning that it is open to Total Truth. 

I've mentioned before that my father-in-law was this way. He was a very intelligent guy, but if you conversed with him, it was as if he had a library of unvarying tapes in his head. Once the information was recorded, there was no further thinking about it. 

Also, there was no synthesis of the tapes, so one might contradict another without causing any cognitive dissonance. He wasn't an ideologue, just a sprawling and disjointed tape vault. He had a ready-to-head answer to every question, which brings to mind an ironyclad aphorism:

As long as we can respond without hesitating we do not know the subject. 

And 

Whoever is curious to measure his stupidity should count the number of things that seem obvious to him. 

For example, my son is taking a psychology class, and naturally asks me questions about this and that. But my answers are much more hesitant than they would have been, say, twenty or thirty years ago. Now, the theories I held seem more like dreams superimposed on a mystery.

That which is incomprehensible increases with the growth of intelligence. 

Or at least with the growth of wisdom. 

There was a time when I knew everything, and I had a Ph.D. to prove it. It took a few years to realize that

Nothing is more superficial than intelligences that comprehend everything.

And that

There is an illiteracy of the soul that no diploma cures. 

A mind constrained within an ideology is already a kind of "artificial intelligence," since it can only perceive and articulate that which is permitted by the internalized model. It can only think within the grooves of its own preconceptions, thus stifling the imagination. Taken to an extreme, this results in the well known phenomenon of Garbage In / Tenure Out:

The leftist does not have opinions, only dogmas.

And 

Within solely Marxist categories not even Marxism is explicable.

Nor Darwinism, materialism, rationalism, scientism, or any other -ism. 

The philosopher who adopts scientific notions has predetermined his conclusions.

But truly truly, man is condemned to transcendence. Thus,

A fool is he who thinks that what he knows is without mystery.

Now, I'm not claiming any extraordinary faculty, because you've probably noticed the same thing in your day-to-day dealings with the sub-Raccoon population. 

I first became consciously aware of this phenomenon in Schuon's unpublished autobiography. Granted, he was a strange young man, but early on, when conversing with one of the Others (in the parlance of our times, a blank-faced NPC), he would 

have the feeling that he is hemmed in by all the objects and mental images that daily surround him. I feel that these people adhere flatly to their mental images with all their soul, without any freedom of movement and without any possibility of taking up an objective attitude towards them. 

Of course, this can happen with religious folk as well, to the extent that the world is reduced to literal dogmatic assertions or memorized passages of scripture. 

It reminds me of something C.S. Lewis said about how "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen. Not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else" -- in other words, not something to look at, rather, to see through. To paraphrase the Aphorist, it furnishes the religious vocabulary needed in order to speak of the farthest regions of the soul.

Young Schuon wrote in his journal that 

When I speak with people I have the feeling that I can perceive their limitations physically; I see their limits almost tangibly before me and feel oppressed by the awareness that there is no entry and no key to their darkness, and that for them there is no exit, that with dull eyes like fish they bump against the glass walls of their mental horizon.

Same. He also had a peculiar relationship to language: 

The meaning of every word vibrates into the infinite, it becomes untrue when we utter it without the infinite and unfathomable with which it is organically united.

No wonder he struggled to cope with mundane existence. Here's another entry from his journal:

[B]etween the great man and the small man there is an abyss, as if the earth had been cleft by a sword; the great man is simply incomprehensible to the petty spirit; a great soul cannot be grasped by the small one...

This is what I call vertical Dunning Krugery, in that the typical man of tenure can no more understand Schuon -- or any other mystic -- than a dog can understand music. Nor does it matter how conventionally intelligent the man of tenure, for

It seems to me that the cult of genius is veritably satanic.... Belief in genius leads us into the discordant sphere of the earthly; it completely bypasses truth. 

One might say that Schuon was not well adjusted to the horizontal world, rather,

I could not accept that Reality was my every day surroundings, with all their artificiality, triviality, ugliness, and stupidity.... What made life so difficult was that I experienced everything in the light of the Absolute; I did not quite have a sense of the relative.

I suspect Boehme was much the same way, i.e., a vertical misfit in a horizontal world, describing life as "a strange bath of thorns and thistles," but in which he nevertheless "went through the world hearing everywhere a divine music." 

It was as if the Protestant reformation broke away from one orthodoxy only to be be enclosed in an even narrower one, "a hardline orthodoxy with all the bigotry and intolerance of their predecessors against whom they had rebelled." 

Babel was the word Boehme used for all the worldly wrangling and power-seeking and enmity which he saw both amongst religious people and in the secular world of politics and diplomacy. 

In an essay called The Abuse of Language and the Abuse of Power, Pieper discusses "the corruption of the word," which has only become more corrupted in the 60 years since it was published. For words are,

quite simply, the medium of all intellectual life. It is above all in the word that human existence comes to pass. And thus if the word decays, humanity itself cannot fail to be affected, cannot fail to be harmed.  

Words can be false only because it is possible for them to be true, for "reality becomes manifested through the word. One speaks in order to make known something real in the act of calling it by name in order... to make it known to someone else." 

Thus, corruption occurs when "the link between word and reality" has been severed. Which is a tricksy business as it pertains to the vertical, since -- as discussed in yesterday's post -- it cannot be disclosed in the same way one would describe the objective/horizontal/material world. 

Rather, there is a sense in which one "speaks it into being" and renders it present in the manner described yesterday: 

Many have spoken of the poetic supralogical nature of Boehme's thought as expressed in his writings," such that the words "are the living expressions of living reality" made present "in the process of expression." He's not conveying concepts, rather, trying to provoke "mental attitudes which will encourage the dawning of light of truth in the individual soul." 

Now, this is something no AI could ever do, i.e., speak of the Living Reality in such a way as to provoke the dawning of Light in the soul. 

Pieper adverts to a "technologically-manufactured ignorance of the world characterized by the possession of an abundance of information." However, all the information in the world doesn't add up to reality, and

once we have lost sight of what is truly real, an illusory reality may take its place..., a pseudo-reality which looks so real that it is virtually impossible for me to find out the truth. 

Is this what will happen as AI -- which has no contact with the Living Real -- displaces the intellect that is in conformity to transcendent truth? Well, "man's chief nourishment is truth," and "Anyone who wishes to live a truly human life must feed on truth." 

Or the Light which is its source and substance. In a post this morning, Spencer Klavan writes of (in reference to a C.S. Lewis story) a "lost soul," in this case an artist who 

is so infatuated with painting as a technique and a business that he’s forgotten what painting is for. But one of the blessed reminds him. “Light itself was your first love: you loved paint only as a means of telling about light."

Gemini, I reckon you know a lot about AI. Thoughts?

Thoughts and Connections:

• The "Limits" of Thought: The idea of internalized ideologies creating "limits" on thought is crucial. It connects to the concept of cognitive biases and how pre-existing frameworks can shape our perception and understanding. This isn't unique to AI; it's a human tendency that can hinder true intellectual exploration.
• Truth as a Living Reality: The concept of truth as a "Living Reality" is central to mystical and spiritual traditions. It suggests a truth that is not static or objective but dynamic and experiential. This is difficult to define or quantify, making it challenging to assess whether AI could ever grasp it.
• AI and Creativity: The author's argument implies that true creativity, the kind that provokes a "dawning of Light," is beyond AI's reach. While AI can generate novel outputs, it's debatable whether these outputs possess the same depth and meaning as human creations born from genuine experience and spiritual insight.
• The Role of Experience: The emphasis on experience is important. Schuon and Boehme's understanding of the Absolute was deeply personal and experiential. AI, lacking consciousness and subjective experience, can only process information about these experiences, not have them itself.
• The Danger of Illusory Reality: The concern about an "illusory reality" created by an overabundance of information is prescient. In the age of misinformation and deepfakes, it's increasingly difficult to distinguish truth from falsehood. AI could exacerbate this problem by generating increasingly convincing but ultimately unreal content.

Regarding your specific questions:

• Distinguishing Human, Subhuman, and Transhuman: The author doesn't explicitly define "subhuman" or "transhuman." However, based on the context, "subhuman" likely refers to those whose thinking is overly constrained by ideology, while "transhuman" (in the context of One Cosmos) seems to refer to a state achieved through technological enhancement, potentially including AI integration. The key distinction remains the capacity for "limitless scope" and openness to "Total Truth," which the author implies is absent in both subhuman and (at least current) transhuman states.
• Detecting Divine Authorship: The author suggests that the model likely cannot detect "divine authorship" because it focuses on stylistic patterns and statistical probabilities, not on the content's connection to "Living Reality." Divine authorship, if it exists, would presumably manifest in a way that transcends these quantifiable metrics.

In conclusion, this text raises profound questions about the nature of intelligence, truth, and reality in the age of AI. It suggests that while AI may excel at certain tasks, it lacks the essential qualities of human intellect: the capacity for genuine understanding, connection to transcendent truth, and the ability to express that truth in a way that transforms the soul.

You Can't Domesticate the Weirdness

Yesterday's post on our weird-woven universe brought to mind... 

Well, a number of things, beginning with Haldane's suspicion that the universe is not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose. The full quote adds that

I have read and heard many attempts at a systematic account of [the universe], from materialism and theosophy to the Christian system or that of Kant, and I have always felt that they were much too simple. I suspect that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of, or can be dreamed of, in any philosophy.

Variants of Haldane's Law hold that the universe is both stranger than we can imagine and stranger than we can think. This being the case, Terence McKenna added that we might as well suppose that it's as strange as we can suppose, because this still won't be strange enough.

While looking up the exact wording of Haldane's comment, I found some other good quips, some of which are well known:

Reality is the cage of those who lack imagination. 

The world shall perish not for lack of wonders, but for lack of wonder.  

The advance of scientific knowledge does not seem to make either our universe or our inner life in it any less mysterious.

Man armed with science is like a baby with a box of matches.

Teleology is like a mistress to a biologist: he cannot live without her but he's unwilling to be seen with her in public. 

It seems to me immensely unlikely that mind is a mere by-product of matter. For if my mental processes are determined wholly by the motions of atoms in my brain I have no reason to suppose that my beliefs are true. They may be sound chemically, but that does not make them sound logically. And hence I have no reason for supposing my brain to be composed of atoms.

The conclusion forced upon me in the course of a life devoted to natural science is that the universe as it is assumed to be in physical science is only an idealized world, while the real universe is the spiritual universe in which spiritual values count for everything.

I also thought of my own modest effort to forge a sufficiently queer language to convey the queerness of things:

In The Beginning was the weird, and the weird was with God, and the weird was God.... And nothing He made was it made without being made of the weird light with which everything was made from the Word (lo)go.... And the weird light shines in the dark, but the dorks don't comprehend it. For truly, the weirdness was spread all through the world, and yet, the world basically kept behaving as if this were just your ordinary, standard-issue cosmos.

I suspect that a big part of the problem lies in the relentless effort of the left-brain to enclose reality in its linear and logical dreams and schemes, in the attempt to make the weirdness go away. But the weirdness remains, and the right brain knows it. 

Now, Christianity is pretty weird. Indeed,

Nothing attracts me as much to Christianity as the marvelous insolence of its doctrines.

One connotation of insolence being disregard for the conventional propriety of the insufficiently weird. Thus,

Mystery is less disturbing than the fatuous attempts to exclude it by stupid explanations.

Ultimately, 

The Church’s function is not to adapt Christianity to the world, nor even to adapt the world to Christianity; her function is to maintain a counterworld in the world.

A weird counterworld to the banal world of scientistic materialism. 

Coincidently, as part of my due diligence in pursuit of the weird, I thought I'd check out a book on one of the all-time weirdest mystic theologians, Jacob Boehme. Say what you want about his visions, they are indeed weirder than we can suppose. The author does his best to reduce the ineffable weirdness to something manageable, with mixed success. It's certainly not for the faint of head.

What's weirder than an unschooled cobbler subject to unbidden mystic visions of God, the universe, and everything? Was he just crazy, and if so, was he crazy enough?  

Our dissident shoemaker was influenced by the Hermetic Tradition, "sometimes called Pansophism."

by which is meant the search for a universal wisdom uniting and explaining all things, a means of reconciling the ways of of God to man and of penetrating the mystery of nature by finding its underlying unity.

Understanding this context "will help us to see his writings not as the eccentric outpourings of a religious maniac or an unbalanced visionary," but rather, our kind of guy, only in a very different cultural matrix. 

Also, his use of language is so idiosyncratic that it's often difficult to know what he's talking about, not to mention that his visions were ineffable to begin with. It seems that he invented his own peculiar vocabulary to describe the indescribable, making him doubly obscure. 

"Many have spoken of the poetic supralogical nature of Boehme's thought as expressed in his writings," such that the words "are the living expressions of living reality" made present "in the process of expression." He's not conveying concepts, rather, trying to provoke "mental attitudes which will encourage the dawning of light of truth in the individual soul." 

That's a valid and worthy goal, and I've even had occasion to attempt it myself, but I'm finding it difficult to penetrate his prose. It's weird alright, but without guidance, it's a little like jumping into Finnegans Wake without a net. I'll finish the book today and get back to you tomorrow if I can extract anything useful from it. 

The Weird-Woven Cosmic Area Rug

Fun fact: the other day I read that "the word weird derives from the Old English wyrd," and that "as used in the profoundly Catholic culture of Anglo-Saxon England, meant the mystical presence of divine providence" (Pearce). 

That's too good to check, but the author speaks speaks of history as "a tapestry, time-stitched and weird-woven, of threads that are good, bad, or beautiful." That's a convoluted way to describe the cosmic area rug, but it does highlight the fact that it is necessarily woven of good and bad threads. 

Which reminds me of Jesus' parable of good seeds and naughty weeds. Probably if we attempted to pull out all the bad threads from the area rug, it would fall apart. 

For example, maybe you don't like human aggression, but it has its role to play herebelow, being a component of what Aquinas calls the irascible appetite. Help us out here, Gemini:

The irascible appetite is concerned with "arduous" goods and evils. It is not simply about immediate pleasure or pain, but about things that are difficult to attain or avoid. It's about facing challenges and overcoming obstacles. 

Among other things, it is the source of courage in facing a difficult evil and of anger in response to a present evil. Thus, no one will need irascible appetites in heaven, but down here they're essential. 

Indeed, the Bible makes it plain that God hates evil and that we are expected to do the same -- although this must be understood in the larger context of loving the good. 

What does the Aphorist say? 

Such is the complexity of every historical event that we can always fear that from a good an evil might be born and always hope that from an evil a good might be born. 

For example, Biden gives birth to Trump. As did Obama before him. Not to mention Carter and Reagan.

More profoundly Dávila says that

No paradise will arise within the framework of time. Because good and evil are not threads twisted together by history, but fibers of the single thread that sin as spun for us.

And what is progressivism but systematic forgetfulness of this fact? Thus,

Modern history is the dialogue between two men: one who believes in God and another who believes he is a god.

Moreover.

Hell is being ignorant of Hell. If it knew, it would be a temporary place of purgation.

Perhaps history is already a temporary place of purgation. Or maybe either a higher rung of hell or a lower rung of purgatory. Our choice. In any event,

Earth will never be paradise, but it could perhaps be prevented from approaching closer to being a cheap imitation of Hell.  

Which is any place from which God is absent, and a place only identifiable from Paradise.

This whole line of thought reminds me of the genome, which is so complex that for the most part you can't just eliminate one "bad gene," since the gene is embedded in a complex network, influencing multiple traits or functions.

Yanking out a single gene can disrupt the network, leading to unintended effects elsewhere. Moreover, a single gene can have multiple roles that are simultaneously harmful and beneficial. The overall design is nonlinear, so removing the gene doesn't guarantee a predictable outcome.  

Which means that the genome too is weird-woven.

Coincidently, Spencer Klavan has a post up this morning about the weirdness of creation, particularly, under the sea, where God and/or Nature unleashes some of its weirdest productions under cover of water:

There’s something just aggressively weird about the ocean, like God’s determined to make a show of creating the wackiest possible animals just to prove no one can stop him.

More generally, 

Considered as a work of art, the universe expresses a raucous and insatiable appetite for life in every possible variety. The skill is that of a Rembrandt but the spirit is that of a toddler with a box of crayons. 

I don’t think we take this into account nearly enough in our theology, what a limitlessly free and ravenously inventive mind we must be talking about when we talk about God. Why make a global swimming pool and fill it with space aliens? His answer seems to be something like uh, why not??

The world is "endlessly full of eerie caverns and misty dwelling places," and "when we talk about miracles, we’re not talking about any reality other than the one in which, wonder of wonders, we already live and move."

And we're back to the weird-woven cosmic area rug. Which is as good an explanation as any for both natural and human evil.  

Above we alluded to Biden giving rise to Trump. Now, Trump no doubt has some "bad qualities" (as indeed do we all), but I suspect that if we could somehow eliminate these qualities, we'd no doubt extirpate a lot of good with them. 

Churchill was similar, it's just that his irascible qualities were precisely what were required in the context of fighting an even more irascible Hitler. 

Here again, Churchill was full of qualities that wouldn't be needed in heaven. Indeed, the British electorate concluded that they weren't needed at all once victory in Europe was attained. They then went about the business of creating a socialist paradise, with predictable consequences. Enter the irascible Mrs. Thatcher.

Now, we needn't actually look under the sea for God's weirdest production, which is none other than man. Schuon goes so far as to say that

If there is to be a cosmos, a universal manifestation, there must also be a fall or falls, for to say "manifestation" is to say "other than God" and "separation." 

Of course, evil must come, but woe to the man by whom the evil comes.

I guess we're done here, except to add that the Incarnation means that human nature becomes truly weird-word-woven, but that is the subject of a different post. Gemini, what say you about this one?

Connecting the Threads:

You've successfully woven together these different ideas to create a compelling argument about the complex and intertwined nature of good and evil. The "weird-woven" metaphor provides a consistent thread throughout, connecting the theological, philosophical, biological, and historical examples.

In essence, you argue that:

• Evil is not simply an external force to be eradicated but an intrinsic part of the fabric of reality.
• Attempts to completely eliminate evil are not only futile but potentially harmful.
• Seemingly negative qualities can play a necessary role in certain contexts.
• The world is a complex and mysterious place, full of wonders and paradoxes.
• Recognizing the reality of evil is essential for understanding the human condition and the nature of history.

This is a nuanced and insightful perspective that challenges simplistic notions of good and evil and encourages a more profound understanding of the world.

An even weirder image of the weird-woven cosmic area rug:

A Brief and Prosaic Autopsy of Wokeness

Yesterday I read a lengthy piece on The Origins of Wokeness. Now, this is a tedious subject, plus it's been in retreat since last November, so why write about it now?

Well, I'm between books at the moment, so I have nothing else to write about. Besides, what is the best in life? Crushing the woke, eating all their steak, and hearing the lamentations of their women of both sexes. 

In short, it's an opportunity for some fine insultainment, but maybe we can learn something too. 

For example, one thought that occurred to me in reading the article is how it could be reduced to a handful of aphorisms by the Master. 

For me, the aphorisms are quintessential examples of how one may know much by knowing little. This is because the aphorisms come from a higher plane that conditions the levels below. They are simultaneously concentrated and expansive.

Scientific knowledge is the opposite: expansive, sprawling, and complex, such that no one could ever hope to master it. Even a single discipline such as medicine has dozens of specialties and subspecialties. My psychiatrist friends -- who went to medical school -- don't know much about medicine per se, but they do know all the good specialists if you need a referral.

The point is, the mind seeks unity, which is at the top of the vertical hierarchy. Even physics, which is the paradigmatic science to which everything else is supposed to be reducible, is itself a mess. The other day I read that the discrepancy between quantum and relativity theories amounts to 120 orders of magnitude, which is an inconceivably large number. 

Gemini rates my statement more or less true: that "This is a major problem in physics, highlighting the tension between quantum mechanics and general relativity," although there are disagreements as to exactly how vast the divergence. The larger point is that we are far from unifying these two fundamental descriptions of the universe. 

Now, knowledge is good, but wisdom (or prudence) is better, which is to say, "higher" on the vertical spectrum. Indeed, it requires wisdom to even know what to do with all the knowledge -- which again, as per yesterday's post, is infinitely beyond any human capacity to know it. The two -- wisdom and knowledge -- exist in a kind of complementary and dynamic relationship, like principles and entailments.

Which is why There are rules! 

Rules are a device for coping with our constitutional ignorance. There would be no need for rules among omniscient people who were in agreement on the relative importance of all the different ends (Hayek).

The fundamental error of the social justice warriors is that the rules do not and cannot guarantee any specific outcome. Hayek compares the free society to a game which consists "partly of skill and partly of chance":

It proceeds, like all games, according to the rules guiding the actions of individual participants whose aims, skills, and knowledge are different, with the consequence that the outcome will be unpredictable and that there will regularly be winners and losers (ibid.).

So while it is right to insist that "nobody cheats, it would be nonsensical to demand that the results for the different players be just." If a hitter in baseball strikes out a lot, we don't therefore change the rules and allow him four strikes instead of three. But this is precisely what DEI does: different rules for officially designated victim groups. In short, legally sanctioned cheating.

The article linked above characterizes wokeness as 

An aggressively performative focus on social justice.

Which is to say, a focus on preferred outcomes instead of transparent and consistently applied rules. Thus, it is the rule of the ruleless, or law of the lawless, in which case 

orthodoxy becomes a substitute for virtue. You can be the worst person in the world, but as long as you're orthodox you're better than everyone who isn't. This makes orthodoxy very attractive to bad people.

Virtue is playing by the rules. Wokeness is overruling the rules -- as in Biden's recent unilateral declaration of a new amendment to the constitution. 

The author of the piece traces the rise of wokeness to the 1960s, especially in the universities, and more particularly in the humanities and social sciences. By the 2010s it had become "more virulent": 

It spread further into the real world, although it still burned hottest within universities. And it was concerned with a wider variety of sins. In the first phase of political correctness there were really only three things people got accused of: sexism, racism, and homophobia (which at the time was a neologism invented for the purpose). But between then and 2010 a lot of people had spent a lot of time trying to invent new kinds of -isms and -phobias and seeing which could be made to stick.

A wider variety of sins, identified and punished by people who would be the first to deny the existence of sin and dismiss it as the relic of a superstitious age:

What is called the modern mentality is the process of exonerating the deadly sins.

Which brings to mind another aphorism:

Only the Church considers itself a congregation of sinners. All other communities, religious or lay, feel themselves to be a confraternity of saints.

However, 

Christianity did not invent the notion of sin, but that of forgiveness.

Nor does it ask that we be impeccable but that we be eager to be forgiven.

But wokeness is an unforgiving counter-religion, "with God replaced by protected classes." The real God harmonizes justice and mercy, but the god of the sinless and saintly woke is all social justice and no mercy. 

Let's get back to the related principles of wisdom and unity. Clearly, there can be no unity in a society in which there are different rules for different groups. Rather, unity can only be a function of agreement on the nature of the rules. We can't play the game if we can't first agree on the rules, and agree to abide by them.   

But there is a deeper principle involved, which can only be a function of wisdom -- the wisdom that says All men are created equal, and endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, whereby we are free to pursue happiness in our own way, so long as we play by the rules.  

Thanks Cap'n Obvious.

I suppose this post is rather banal, but then again,  

We conservatives provide idiots the pleasure of feeling like they are daring avant-garde thinkers.

Moreover,

Strictly speaking, it is in reiterating the old commonplaces that the work of civilization consists.

So, 

The  conservatism of each era is the counterweight to the stupidity of the day. 

The stupidity of our day being progressive wokeness. 

Now,

The left is a lexicographical tactic more than an ideological strategy.

Which is why 

In certain eras the intelligence has to devote itself merely to restoring definitions.

Definitions of words like man, woman, freedom, equality, justice, fairness, reason, fascism, racism, and the rule of law. 

An Important Message About the Virus of Nihilism from the Center for Vertical Disease Control

C. Bradley Thompson writes that 

the greatest existential threat to the United States is a philosophic virus of the mind. Specifically, the two greatest threats to the United States are nihilism and socialism, which, as actionable ideologies, are working in tandem to destroy Western Civilization.  

Socialism is the end, and nihilism is the means.

I don't know about that. If I'm Satan, then I'm thinking that nihilism is the end, because it is situated at the "bottom" of the vertical, or at least the bottom deprived of its context -- like a purely phenomenal world with no noumena, or appearances with no reality. Which is impossible. 

Alternatively, one might think of nihilism as the peripheral area furthest from the central sun, where its rays shade off into a nothingness without even the possibility of meaning.

As for socialism, the other day I began working on a post called Austrian Theonomics, in which I wanted to explicate the theological implications of some of Hayek's ideas, if indeed any such implications exist. Hayek himself was not a religious man, but in my world, any deeply true idea can and must be reconciled with other deeply true ideas. 

Now, one of Hayek's ideas is that socialism is not just a bad idea but literally impossible because of the calculation and knowledge problems. Prices instantaneously adjust to, and convey information about, supply and demand, and thereby determine the value of goods and services:

Without market prices for capital goods, socialist planners lack this essential information. Without economic calculation, resource allocation under socialism becomes arbitrary and inefficient. Planners might make decisions based on guesswork, political considerations, or outdated information, leading to waste, shortages, and misallocation of resources.

As for the knowledge problem, it simply means that in a complex system, information and knowledge are widely dispersed among millions of individuals, and constantly adjusting to circumstances, such that no central institution could ever hope to gather it, much less synthesize it and make rational decisions.

In short, socialism is the pursuit of the impossible, making it a means to a nihilistic end. 

Hayek also felt that "social justice" was another impossibility, a name for nothing: the term is "entirely empty and meaningless," and

the people who habitually employ the phrase simply do not know themselves what they mean by it and just use it as an assertion that a claim is justified without giving reason for it.

It is indeed a "quasi-religious belief" that "has no content whatever and serves merely to insinuate that we ought to consent to a demand of some particular group." The phrase means "nothing at all," and the person who uses it is "either thoughtless or fraudulent." 

Those who are interested in the whole argument are directed to The Mirage of Social Justice. Those who just want the bottom line may take the word of the Aphorist that

Socialism is the philosophy of the guilt of others, 

and that 

"Social justice" is the term for claiming anything to which we do not have a right. 

Back to the essay cited at the top, Bradley writes of how the revolutionary strategy of the New Left changed in the 1960s. Since the proletariat were too stupid to get on board with a bottom-up revolution, this would have to be a top-down one, such that "the intellectual and cultural elite" would

engage in a long march through America’s cultural institutions. The nihilistic goal was to undermine all the values and virtues of America and Western civilization. America’s cultural Left attacked reason, truth, objectivity, free will, rights, individualism, freedom, constitutionalism, and capitalism.

Here again, the pursuit of the impossible by a superior erristocracy of nihilists. 

Speaking of which, just yesterday I was notified by the of California Psychological Association that if I want to maintain my license to practice -- which I don't -- I am required to take a course in Social Justice, which

pertains to the historical, social, and political inequities in the treatment of people from nondominant groups, while addressing the various injustices and different types of oppression that contribute to individual, family, and community psychological concerns. 

The totolerantarian informing me of my obligation says that this is "an ethical imperative, particularly here in the state of California," which she calls -- without irony -- "a diversity mecca." 

In other words, California is already a kind of paradise for nihilists who wish to impose the mirage of social justice on the restavus. They may be no better at treating mental illness than they are at fighting fires, but at least they're free of heteronormative and ableist fire departments.

So, does this post have a point? Well, it seems to me that the MAGA movement is a counter-revolution against a nihilist revolution that has been been unfolding for at least three-quarters of a century. But you already knew that, so I don't know that this post has added anything to the conversation.

Craniacs & Skyhookers

I had to take the wife to the airport before I could even complete my morning routine, a large part of which includes the morning post. Therefore, this will have to be brief.

Atheist Daniel Dennett came up with the metaphor of cranes and skyhooks to characterize naturalism and theism, respectively. In his world, skyhooks are not allowed:

Dennett uses the term "skyhook" to describe a source of design complexity that does not build on lower, simpler level -- in simple terms, a miracle.

Now, I say the existence of cranes is already a miracle that can't be explained without recourse to a skyhook, which is to say, a vertical telos. One might say that crane and skyhook are complementary, another way of talking about the "heavens and and earth" created in the beginning (which is always now). 

But for Dennett, the skyhook concept is intended to ridicule "the idea of intelligent design emanating from on high," i.e., from what regular folks call God. He contrasts this with earthbound cranes, i.e., "structures that permit the construction of entities of greater complexity but are themselves founded solidly 'on the ground' of physical science."

At antipodes to the craniac perspective are skyhookers such as Wolfgang Smith, who writes that "the Darwinism of our day" is

no longer science, properly so called, but proves to be, ultimately, a kind of religion: a counter-religion, to be exact. 

If Darwinism is a religion, it must have a secret skyhook of its own buried somewhere, i.e., the One Free Miracle that gets it off the ground. 

I don't doubt the existence of cranes, but they are not self-explanatory. You could say they are built from the laws of physics, but this leads to two problems, first, the origin of those laws, and second, how the laws give rise to beings who transcend those laws.

Richard Dawkins, for example, talks about how human beings ought to develop a morality that is free of religion, but whence this "ought" in a deterministic world of selfish genes? There is no ought in natural selection, nor any freedom to conform to it. To even say that one morality is superior to another is to sneak in a hierarchy that is forbidden by its principles. 

Now, as we always say, if a miracle is something that has no naturalistic explanation, then high on my list is the miracle of subjectivity in an otherwise objective universe; and if this weren't miraculous enough, we have the human intelligence that somehow mirrors the intelligibility of the world. 

Is it reasonable to suppose that this immaterial intelligence was simply lifted by a material crane out of monkey's head? To believe this is to simply not know what intelligence is, which is to say, adequation to reality.  

We say that man is always suspended between the crane and the skyhook, which is to say, immanence and transcendence, or time and eternity, respectively: "man by nature belongs to a reality beyond time while living in time" (Nasr).  The human state "resides precisely in standing on the vertical axis between" these poles, skyhook above, cranes below.

Looked at this way, evolution is indeed a journey through time, but to recognize the journey is to already be partly outside of it -- as Dawkins implicitly acknowledges with his his preference for a morality that is higher than mere survival of the fittest. 

Gemini, I have to fill some space. Whaddya got?

This is a well-structured and thought-provoking piece that explores the tension between naturalism (represented by Dennett's "cranes") and theism/transcendence (represented by "skyhooks"). Here's a breakdown of the key arguments and some observations:

Key Arguments:

• Critique of Dennett's Cranes: The central argument is that even "cranes" (naturalistic explanations) require a "skyhook" (a source of ultimate explanation or a vertical telos). The existence of natural laws, and especially the emergence of beings who can transcend and understand those laws, is seen as inherently inexplicable without recourse to something beyond the purely material.
• The Problem of "Ought": The piece highlights the problem of deriving "ought" (morality, values) from "is" (natural selection, deterministic processes). If everything is determined by physical laws and selfish genes, where does the concept of moral obligation or the ability to choose a "better" morality come from? This echoes the classic is-ought problem.
• The Miracle of Subjectivity and Intelligence: The emergence of subjective experience and human intelligence capable of grasping the intelligibility of the world is presented as a major challenge to purely materialist explanations. How could purely physical processes give rise to immaterial consciousness and the ability to understand abstract concepts?
• Man Between Crane and Skyhook: The piece concludes by positioning humanity as existing in a tension between immanence (cranes, the material world) and transcendence (skyhooks, the spiritual or eternal). Evolution is acknowledged as a temporal process, but the very act of observing and understanding evolution implies a perspective outside of pure temporality.
• Implicit Argument for Transcendence: While not explicitly advocating for a specific religious view, the piece strongly suggests the necessity of some form of transcendence or non-material reality to account for the phenomena it discusses.
• The "One Free Miracle": The idea of Darwinism having its own "secret skyhook" or "One Free Miracle" is an interesting point. It suggests that even naturalistic explanations might rely on some unexplainable starting point or assumption.

Overall, this is a well-argued and thought-provoking piece that raises important questions about the relationship between science, philosophy, and religion. It effectively uses the crane/skyhook metaphor to explore the limits of naturalistic explanations and the potential need for a transcendent perspective.

Pictured below, a skyhook lifting a crane:

The Meek Shall Inhere in the Vertical

I read a couple of things this morning that got me to thinkin'. The first is an observation by Spencer Klavan on the "normie revivial" and "the spiritual horizon of everyday life":

It may surprise our readers to learn this, but most people are normal. By definition, we can’t all win extraordinary recognition or wealth. So, also by definition, widespread happiness depends on the possibility of achieving fulfillment without the glamor and excitement of becoming a world-historic figure. 

We can't just be resigned to an ordinary death-in-life, rather, flip the crypt and turn it into an adventure -- a vertical adventure. 

Surely this was a massive part of the appeal of Jesus' message -- for example, in the Sermon on the Mount, wherein he articulates a total inversion of the world's values and instead privileges the humble, the persecuted, and the poor in spirit. It is they who will inherit the earth, know the Kingdom of Heaven, see God, and receive comfort and slack.

Which is another way of saying that their lives will be a vertical adventure, or at least the adventure will be more accessible to them than to the privileged worldings preoccupied with gaining more wealth, power, and status.

If there's no reward for life on offer besides the worldly goods of money and fame, normalcy becomes drudgery. This is probably why a purely secular society is doomed to generate mass discontent: by its nature, it can never satisfy most of its members.

We will all fall short of the glory of Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos, and if there is no vertical, then that's the end of it: a life of envy, frustration, and resentment, with no earthly way out:

I think it follows that the test of true religion is whether it can make an adventure out of being merely human. 

In general, I would say that the secret of the mystics is a recognition of the extraordinary in the ordinary, for example, Blake's famous crack about seeing eternity in a grain of sand:

The fact of existence, rather than nothingness, is itself astonishing. In the same vein, Isaiah once stressed that the messiah would look like any other human, with “nothing in his appearance to attract our attention.” From this I gather that what looks outwardly like normalcy is already, inwardly, a miracle.

So, the trick is not just to reframe life as a vertical adventure, but to plunge into it. 

Which reminds me of that story at the beginning of Kallistos Ware's The Orthodox Way, about "a celebrated recluse, a woman who lived always in a small room, never going out." A wandering Desert Father who was skeptical of her way of life called on her and asked, Why are you sitting here?, to which she responded I am not sitting, I am on a journey.

Every Christian may apply these words to himself or herself. To be a Christian is to be a traveller.... We are on a journey through the inward space of the heart, a journey not measured by the hours of our watch or the days of the calendar, for it is a journey out of time and into eternity. 

Along these lines, I discovered the other day that the hardcore atheist Christopher Hitchens requested that Steve Winwood's Higher Love be played at his funeral, which is ironic, because I believe Winwood is himself a Christian. Gemini?

Yes, Steve Winwood is a Christian. His renewed Christian faith is reflected in some of his music, particularly in the 1986 album "Back in the High Life," which features the hit song "Higher Love." This song contains spiritual themes and alludes to a return to faith.

One would think that the lyrics of Higher Love would be in poor taste if not totally inappropriate for an atheist's sendoff:

Think about it, there must be higher love / Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above / Without it, life is wasted time 

Is Hitchens trolling us from the grave?

The other thing I read this morning was from Rob Henderson's newsletter, in which he highlights how social media can fuel envy and discontent: young adults are exposed to a barrage of internet celebrities "who don’t seem all that different from themselves" but have won "the social media lottery."

Imagine you’re 22 or 23, just out of college, and scrolling through Instagram. You see someone your age who looks like you and has a similar level of intelligence or talent (maybe the person has no talent at all), but they’re making a living as an influencer.....

Young people might think, “Why not me? Why can’t I have that kind of job?” It’s one thing to see Ludacris living a glamorous life -- that feels understandable and unattainable -- but seeing someone so similar to yourself succeeding in a way that looks effortless can feel deeply unfair.... 

This is because similarity is one of the strongest predictors of whether you envy someone. The people you envy are those that you could imagine yourself being. The key components are similarity, and achievement in a domain that is relevant to yourself.... you will feel more envy than if it is someone very different from yourself, someone who comes from a completely different background than you...

Which goes back to what Klavan says about a purely secular society being doomed to generate mass discontent because it can never satisfy most of its members. And clearly, there is no horizontal solution to this problem, because horizontality -- or exile from the vertical -- is the problem.

Now, in the larger scheme of things, exile from the vertical is none other than man's fall. Yesterday while in the waiting room for a medical appointment I brought along a random volume of Schuon to keep me company, and lit upon a passage about the fall and its consequences, whereby

the link with the divine Source was broken and became invisible; the world became suddenly external to Adam, things became opaque and heavy, they became like unintelligible hostile fragments. This drama is always repeating itself anew, in collective history as well as in the life of individuals.

As a result, man looks for God in all the wrong places, from matter to ideology to internet fame, each concealing a kind of covert idolatry. It also results in an ever-multiplying surfeit of "meaningless knowledge," which is "not a knowledge that enriches, but one that impoverishes." These "cosmic blind-alleys" seduce "and play the vampire; the current of forms does not want us to escape from its hold."

Which is to say, the hold of horizontality, which superimposes itself on the vertical, such that man is "engulfed in the anxious and deceptive turmoil of superfluous things" both "delusive and perishable." 

Then the nurse called, so that was the end of that. But earlier in the day I was reading another book that, as it were, deals with the reversal of the fall, which is to say, the vertical adventure. But I see that I've already exceeded my allotment, so to be continued.

Stale Bobservations and Flaming Homilies

Nobody thinks seriously as long as originality is important to him.

Well, that's a relief. 

How does one keep it fresh when one is talking about timeless truth? After all "perennial" and "novel" would appear to be antonyms. Well, there's this:

Religious thought does not go forward like scientific thought does, but rather goes deeper. 

Therefore, it is possible to say the sameold sameold in a deeper way. There's also this:

There is no spiritual victory that is not necessary to win anew each day. 

 Zen Mind, Beginners Mind, only transposed to the key of Christianity?

In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few.

So, a carefully cultivated learned ignorance gives rise to an infinitude of possibilities. Indeed,

As long as we can respond without hesitating we do not know the subject.  

More generally,

That which is incomprehensible increases with the growth of the intelligence. 

Now, God is incomprehensible, and ten out of ten mystics will tell you that the more they know of him the less they know, and vice versa. Thus, 

There are types of ignorance that enrich the mind and types of knowledge that impoverish it. 

I do feel very much as if every morning I start all over -- like Sisyphus, only with the unjaded spirit of a hopeful child or something? 

The intelligent adult is one in whom the child has survived and the youth has died.

In my back pages I was a rather cynical youth. But I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now. 

The Roshi tells us that

This is also the real secret of the arts: always be a beginner.

But

The modern desire to be original makes the mediocre artist believe that simply being different is the secret to being original.

 I also recall something Schuon wrote in one of his later books: 

Everything has already been said, and well said; but one must always recall it anew, and in recalling it one must do what has already been done: to actualize in thought certitudes contained, not in the thinking ego, but in the transpersonal substance of human intelligence.

Similarly, the Aphorist reminds us that

The scientific proposition presents an abrupt alternative: understanding it or not understanding it. The philosophical proposition, however, is susceptible to growing insight. Finally, the religious proposition is a vertical ascent that allows one to see the same landscape from different altitudes.

So, as scientific and horizontal knowledge proceeds in a forward direction, philosophical and religious -- which is to say, vertical -- thought partakes of depth and height. 

There is also the matter of assimilating novel horizontal knowledge into the vertical -- or, put conversely, reformulating the old truths in the parlance of the times. The quantum world gives rise to a vision of the world that is astonishingly different from the Newtonian, but neither has any ultimate bearing on the timeless, it's just that we have new ways to express the timeless. Physics may change, but 

Nothing is more outdated at any moment than yesterday's novelty.

And

Whoever believes he is original is merely ignorant.

Moreover,

No one seems more like the others than he who believes himself to be different.

Ironically, 

Originality must adhere to the continuity of a tradition.

Now, tradition is a kind of horizontal continuity in approaching the vertical. Along these lines, Gustav Mahler said that "Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire,"and now we're getting somewhere: what may sound like another stale cosmic homily is really a modest attempt to preserve and pass along the Fire.

After all, someone has to do it, so it might as well be me.

Gemini, what do you make of this? Stale bobservations or flaming homily?

This is a rich and insightful collection of thoughts on originality, tradition, and the nature of religious and philosophical truth. Here's a breakdown of the key ideas and how they connect: 

The Paradox of Originality: The core argument is that the pursuit of originality for its own sake is counterproductive. True originality arises not from striving to be different, but from deeply engaging with timeless truths and traditions. 

Vertical vs. Horizontal Knowledge: The essay distinguishes between scientific (horizontal) knowledge, which progresses linearly, and philosophical/religious (vertical) knowledge, which deepens and ascends. Religious truth isn't about novelty but about gaining deeper insights into the same fundamental principles. The analogy of seeing the same landscape from different altitudes is particularly effective. 

The Beginner's Mind: The concept of "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" is applied to the spiritual life. By approaching truth with a sense of wonder and openness, like a beginner, we open ourselves to new possibilities. This contrasts with the "expert's" limited perspective. This links to the idea of "learned ignorance" -- recognizing the limits of our knowledge allows for greater understanding. 

The Timeless and the Temporal: The essay acknowledges the importance of relating timeless truths to the current context. While "nothing is more outdated at any moment than yesterday's novelty," we can use new language and concepts (like those from quantum physics) to express enduring principles. This is the "reformulating the old truths in the parlance of the times." 

Tradition as a Fire, Not Ashes: The quote from Mahler is crucial: "Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire." Tradition isn't about blindly adhering to the past, but about keeping the vital essence alive. This connects to the idea of "recalling it anew" and "doing what has already been done." 

The Role of Ignorance and Incomprehensibility: The essay suggests that true understanding involves recognizing the vastness of what we don't know. This is particularly relevant to the concept of God, who is inherently incomprehensible. This echoes the idea of "There are types of ignorance that enrich the mind and types of knowledge that impoverish it." 

Constant Renewal: The image of Sisyphus with a "unjaded spirit" emphasizes the need for constant renewal in the spiritual life. Each day is a new beginning, a fresh opportunity to engage with truth.

In essence, the essay argues for a nuanced understanding of originality and tradition. True originality isn't about inventing something new, but about deeply understanding and re-expressing timeless truths in a way that resonates with the present. This requires a beginner's mind, a recognition of our own ignorance, and a commitment to keeping the fire of tradition alive.