Saturday, November 10, 2007

Learning to Distinguish

I am learning to distinguish between the unknowables: the perpetual and the ever-present. Sometimes a thing called denial can become attractive even to the inquiring mind. Usually it is through experiences of obligation, or feelings one gets regarding lifestyle changes that people, if not going the whole way to utter denial, then at least some level of compensation. It's a dangerous field, one in which the supposed experts on "pure-consciousness" must go through some level of denial to believe that they themselves have not compensated on some level. My point is that denial seems to spread or spill much like fear, but in a way that is less immediately noticeable. Fear is an experience which is intuitively known to be fundamentally wrong. Denial has all sorts of rationalizations associated with it, and one cannot believe that it is better to reduce the level of denial to a singularity of impulsiveness rather than to experience denial for what it is. My point is that denial must be dealt with not in a presumptive way regarding the inevitability of its existence but that it must be combated only as it appears. Dealing with denial in an attempt to reduce its existence across the entirety of your consciousness is futile: denial is too adaptable and too specific. Within denial is the microcosm of your mind: lacking its fullness of being but not in any way capable of fulfilling itself in any complete sense of the word. Life, in its experience of the grander ideals and universalized understanding, is only capable of doing a part. The illusion of oneness is a double-edged sword: it can make one capable of original generalizations, or it can seduce someone into a state of contentment which is a majority of life rather than the illusory wholeness of being. Even when we try to fit as much information into as small a space as possible, at what point do we compromise the true nature of the information being expressed? The answer of the inevitability of compromising is insufficient, and we must recognize that there is as yet no clear answer to such a question. What we tend to choose in terms of how hot to make hot sauce or how much THC should be in a type of weed often follows the logic of the more there is in a small amount of space as possible the better. Human nature opposes this type of existence, and would rather run at a comfortable equilibrium in which progress is measured by the way something enhances our existence. More and more, progress will be something which builds on itself. What can humans, the creators of technology, do to change such progress? The desire to stuff as much as possible into something as small as possible must be seen for what it is: a never-ending struggle which will never seem to get as much attention as it deserves. This applies to all of the problems of the world, with the exception of disease, for which we have cures. The irony of metaphysical purity, or emotional catharsis, is that by coming to terms with reality, we accept as ours all the things that oppose such pureness. Our pureness lies not only in the recognition of our weakness, but the changing of our attitudes. The initial impulse does not spill over here, when it would be desirable, and one must remember that once you start down the path there are forks in the road. One must learn that to part from one's creation involves saying goodbye to it, so for this posting I will say: you leave possibilities open but do not go into depth, you are too considerate of your readers, leaving the filling up to them, and finally, you lack direction.

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