Pseudo-Philosophy

by dschapman

The objective/subjective distinction is conceptually odious; at best it is a practical distinction, and at worst it is a misleading fiction. Subjectivity, so to speak of it at all, is only a fragment of the objective whole, which is the only thing which can be said to exist. So is objectivity only a fragment of the subjective experience. Either terms are nothing more, in the reality of the world, than assumptions.

In a language, nothing is said; everything is lost; the illumination of meaning that buoys one’s words in the consummate whole of their being is non-transferable, and so words shared verbally or written down remain absolutely inert and insignificant, unbuoyed by the magnificent illumination of the self-generating source that gave it all meaning, the summation of experiences and synaptic relations, the tally of a random flash in the universe; nothing can ever be said.

In symbolic logic, God is not dead. Logic is a stable foundation. There are limits to reason; logic is always tautology. Logical proofs are all circular. It is all men can do to draw circles, to pretend to explain the world through perfect circles within circles, standing in a field of circles. The circle is the symbol of God.

In a causal world, everything is determined. We live in a causal world. When we speak of free will, we are obfuscating concepts. It is because the world is determined that humans have significance, strength, and inspiration. With determinism at our backs, we can be driven straight into the arms of evolution, until we are not even human, but transcended from basic humanity. Destiny exists and it is called causality.

Aesthetics are a universal element, like atomic particles, that permeate every dynamic of everything and accumulate through our senses to form our aesthetic impressions. Aesthetics is not synonymous with “beauty” or “art.” Beauty is a value judgment, and art an institution. Aesthetics are a way of considering the pieces of the world, and the way that they relate.

Only in the height of decadence can a literature afford to exist that is anything other than polemic.

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