Certain spheres of knowledge are only brought into temporal existence at a particular instant when nodal time overlaps with celestial time, allowing for a dispensation of new knowledge, a well that never dries — a minor blessing.
A method to particularize and then to provincialize an object of thought is to associate a given natural logic of thought with an intrusion into another tradition, either external to the thought or adjacent within the same tradition but made discrete due to political, social, and intellectual pressures — then, an otherwise natural convergence of one’s thought with a tenet deemed external to one’s position is seen as a marker of duplicity, contradiction, or sophistry — this technique is most frequently deployed both by insiders wishing to delineate and police the artificial borders of tradition and by outsiders, who are ironically not that outside if one is to accept the broader premise here, but nevertheless, by outsiders who use this framing to narrativize such thought as unorthodoxy, concealment, and evidence of the thought and, by extension, of the specific tradition, as a discrete and unalterable phenomenon, even when they have to concede, for reasons of pragmatism, that traditions cannot be affixed to borders of thought, and at its very core, this sort of sleight of hand decidedly refuses transcendence and the possibility of a maximal cognitive liberty, and perhaps, the worst of it all is a claim to speak for a higher being while mired in the sands of materiality.
If one is enraptured by the mundane buzzing concomitant with a general level of prosperity, it becomes rather rationally convenient to imagine the separation between one and the other, who lies on the opposite side of the spectrum, as thoroughly existential, even metaphysical, a segregation between different species.
It is easier to get worked up about perceived metaphysical matters than about demonstrable ones, as if the latter were simply a matter of carving propositions on a line — what a shame.
Transcendence can be conveniently used to limit imagination, or on the other hand can merely be cast as the highest gradation of the plane of existence and material — both unimaginative constructions assuming barriers based on language, which albeit, a blessing, is often used for recursive schematics.
There is an epistemic difference between honesty and sentimentality as respective governors of thought.
Every ordinary man — ordinary in the sense of not being a claimant to divine visitations, real or dubious, with the latter also being indictable but not here by us — commits the iniquity of tribal triumphalism, often from a position of perceived asymmetrical oppression varying in kind and degree, as a means to soothe the seizures in the self as it arises through the relation between time and material — the contingent facts of life; this is lamentable for it forecloses the possibility of a more austere seriousness that neither revels in one’s personal or collective loss as unqualified coronation nor gloats over temporal primacy as any particular expression of universal grace.
The names of divinity and its attendant attributes are not to be invoked simultaneously as a supposed act to integrate them into the One — it is already enough that they emanate from One, but to recast them into the one once they have been made existent is not so much a moral error as it is a logical one with consequences for how one may hear the voice of the one in material: cacophonous.
Strict monism in matters that require disentangling before any consolidation is practically misleading — unknotting the mass requires patience before the weaves can be rebraided.
Writing by its very nature is dialectically oriented, it is pulled forward and backward by the very phenomenological act of etching ink into paper, it must tug, wrest, tear just as it prods, propels, and compels — it simply cannot dissipate into thin air as oral speech, it must remain stable architecturally — to take this conclusion as proof of the sovereignty of critique as default sheath of writing is a misunderstanding that conflates the naturalistic contractions and extensions of language with an invitation towards its use as a moralistically hostile sword.
Stripping the marigold from the family of language does not make the latter any clearer.
There is naught but He — but first feel the ninety-nine thorns before you caress the last flower.
Glimpses from the original book can be seen bleeding from the sky at moments of proper attention.
A blanket wrapped around the July sun is an immaculate blessing: when the radiance of the Holy becomes unbearable in its remembrance of the possibility of an impending desolation, the angel of the seam furls the blazing specks into grey cloth in its remembrance of the possibility of an impending investiture.
When piety is pegged to positive self-perception, the curse of pride invades being, and therefore, the Lord may raise His banners in desolate and ruined men while the pious parade in the hall of mirrors — this is the logic of justice.
Often, legs are broken so the man may not prostrate himself to idols he conflated with the One, and through this encrushment man commits to the necessity of works being conditional allowances by the One — permissions that are neither affirmative nor privative, but rather designed and contingent prescriptions.
A body is merely a moving carcass.
For every ninety-nine children, there is one who can see — but how does one establish as such when it is not possible to inhabit the past in the sense of embodying the quality of childness once the barrier between childhood and adulthood has collapsed — the answer is less in attempting a rear-guard phenomenological dwelling than in measuring the length and quality of the filaments that connect the child and its corresponding man across units of nodal time — what becomes apparent after a certain degree of attention is exerted is the premise that all children possess a basic dispositional innocence despite any influence of their genetic and environmental hearth, but what cannot be ascertained is the first claim of the ability of a child to see, because innocence is not coextensive with perception, and that is why one resorts to inverse inquiry where it becomes easier to assert that childness is a universal condition pegged to innocence without necessarily indicating perception — the distinction between the two is made clearer by identifying the transmutation of childness into adulthood, or more accurately, into childishness, that occurs in the ninety-nine when they arrive at the threshold of biological adulthood; the evolution of childness into adultness is less expansive: reserved for the one — this is a grim conclusion corroborated by the evidence without fulfilling our basic desire for egalitarianism.
It is a logical impossibility to hold any anti-stance against the past while being in the precise unit of time one inhabits, so while one may say that they detest a certain occurrence three hundred years ago, they cannot be against it in any inferential sense because once the moment is past, the conditions that permitted living in the moment with particular attendant attitudes are foreclosed, and all that remains is retrospective labelling that is not anti- but a moral judgement.
The persecution of breadth is rooted in a particular brand of eschatological fear and suspicion forged in the crucible of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries, one that demanded man cower in its image, that he reduce himself to assure the Geist that he understood the times, but this was not to be a modesty as was claimed, but rather a retreat into safety couched as agitation towards boundlessness, perhaps, an appraisal of man’s limit as human, but a wrongful conflation of this justified appraisal with man’s aspiration, which has always been, by design and proof, endless — it is no coincidence that cracks in idealisms spread more quickly at the turn of that century when systems were cracking en masse under the hammering of wide-scale spiritual, intellectual, and political turbulence — there was some confusion between aspiration and humility, the latter becoming equated with some notion of common sense, which was, in fact, a generous move pushed too far by its later adherents, who thought awful things could happen if one stayed in the mind for too long, in images and visions, but language became a warm refuge as they themselves got ensnared in particular habits of the mind, as we all do because that is an existentially unsolvable issue that even the barest of propositions cannot comprehend without becoming something total, a state those propositions sought to resist in the first place, less a leap and more a protective retreat, born out of a particular psychological orientation it could not recognize as such due to its own contingent definition of the psyche.