I noticed for a long time a very common error of the human perspective when it comes to our many activities (both in the functional and the intellectual spheres). As previously observed in a plethora of other articles, it is clear that human beings have the natural tendency to think and analyze in a very linear pattern. Our ways of harmonizing everything into mentally projected groups or categories is a constant activity of the mind.
And so: Cat ≈ Tiger, Computer ≈ Virtual, Cold ≈ Temperature (…)
The pendulum swings between those established opposites of what we meticulously defined. Unfortunately, what analytical philosophy teaches us is that it works solely for functionalities… Things that are not overly abstract. For example, we understand clearly that an apple is a fruit and that it can be eaten. There is nothing remotely abstract about such an information and even individuals who do not speak the same language as you, will have a good idea of what your desires or intentions are.
No, the real problem is when we try to apply the same linearity to what is beyond the grasp of language, hence why philosophy in and of itself, is rightly described as an ‘activity’ by Socrate. As Wittgenstein mentioned before, our real philosophical problems have always originated from us, attempting to say the unsayable…
The real danger is that we still force our ways through concepts and try to harmonize them with the tools of ignorance.
What is love:
Category 1: Love ≈ God (Religious)
Category 2: Love ≈ A signal from the brain. (Scientific)
Category 3: Love ≈ A willful Interaction between two beings. (Social)
Result: Love changes from one category to the other and there is no definite answer but the one we give it, in accord with our chosen category or mixture of categories.
And so the fatal error of perspective is that we tend to lose sight of the multitudinous, of plurality. Human being and nature as a whole is not a singularly pieced entity. Our needs, our desires, our condition, our explorations, our understanding, our ambitions are always morphing themselves, every day, every hours, every seconds.
As someone that follows the Seven-Fold-Way and more precisely, the Numinous Way, I admit that I am addicted to life. I see no contradiction in seeking to better myself both through what is vulgarly termed as ‘Dark’ and ‘Light’ (as long as it does not hinder the peregrination of others, for evolution, in some ways, is also an abstraction which is dependant on specific categories and language)… There is yet again, a plurality of experiences that our ‘Wyrd’ offers us, through a very pluralistic echo of time(s) which then impact us in a plurality of ways, making our soul shiver with what I like to believe to be a new, cosmic understanding.
Accepting and coming at peace with this principle means you have achieved the end of duality and that you can take and grow whatever is required of the experiences you will harvest/encounter throughout your life without denoting or classifying them as ‘Good’ or ‘Bad’ but rather, simply part of the flow of your terrestrial existence. Nothing is separated, everything becomes whole. You are not here to harmonize Physis through language and play God with what ‘X’ is and what ‘Y’ should be. You are here to be part of this momentary cosmic effluvium and bite right into the apple. Eden opened, Eden closed, what do we care? We are here for the walk anyway and while walking, there is pain and there is bliss.
A Satanist, in essence, is someone that is and should be addicted to whatever existence has to offer, beyond what is vulgarly harmonized by language and beyond the selfish needs and desires that are honourless. No words can come to terms with what a wyrdful life truly is.
When this, along with the continuous actions of plurality and the dangers of selfishness (hubris) is realized, there can only be Exaltation and a letting-go. No more struggle to understand, to name or to control…
Simply a desire to be, with everything that is implied by being.
“So many memories which slowly fade as bright colour exposed to Sun: as the
bright checks of my Tweed cap have slowly faded over the years, unrenewed
as the greens of the grass, the bush, the tree, become renewed each year,
through Spring. Only memories, as of Fran; to be savoured but perhaps now
not too much to be dwelt upon in almost unbearable sadness, for thus is – for
thus has the – a type of balance returned; that balance, that dwelling in
immediacy, which I from learning feel and know is the essence of wu-wei.
This is a change within me, regarding the life and death of Fran, and the life
and death of Sue; regarding my own diverse journeys and explorations. A
change toward a being-settled that has partly arisen from at last forsaking
abstractions and partly from accepting that it is immediacy and remembrance
of memories which convey the only correct meaning we human beings have or
can find and which is numinous. No projection, thus, of an abstractive
life-beyond this mortal life; no need for a religious type of faith; no battle or
desire to strive to be in accord with any abstraction; and even no need to
believe in, or even un-numinously desire, some-thing.
No depth of unfathomable wordless sadness to bring that ultimate life-ending despair such as I assume Fran felt in the last hours of her own mortal living.
For there is only the bright Sun; the slight breeze in bush and tree; the
verdant, living, green of grass; the yellow Buttercups that are profusely
sprinkled there in the old Orchard of old Apple trees whose lower branches
have been windfallen, or become broken with age, or stripped of bark by the
two Goats who roam there, where Chickens range, food-seeking. Only the
passing billowing fair-weather white Cumulus clouds below the sky-blue of
Earth’s earthly mortal life.
My decades long mistake of unbalanced stupidity has been to be un-rooted; to
be of unnatural uneedful haste. To cease to dwell within each immediacy of
each moment. To be swayed by, persuaded by, in thrall to – to even love –
un-numinous and thus un-ethical abstractions. To be thus that which we
human beings have become: a stage between animal – talking – and
compassionate, empathic being aware of and treasuring each small pulse of
life that lives near, within, us because there is no separation unless we in
hubris and by abstraction create such separation.
Thus are we now but Homo Hubris, struggling, halting, wasting ourselves and
all of Life around us; infected now with the virus of abstractions so that, upon
this living Earth, we – in our new de-evolution – despoil, disrupt, destroy the
Life that is our Life and the genesis of The Numinous, often in the name of
that un-ethical abstraction called “progress”. And yet we have a cure for our
millennia-long debilitating sickness; have always had a cure, although so many
for so long, as I, have failed in our blind stupidity to see it.
So, this is all that there is: only the bright Sun; the slight breeze in bush and
tree; the verdant, living, green of grass; the yellow Buttercups that are
profusely sprinkled here where, now, The Numinous lives, on another
beautifully warm and Sunny day, bright with light remembered…”
-David Myatt, Almost Mid-Summer
-Beldam, 128 yf