We can all relate to the void.

[Pixar]

Edit : This text came from the question : what would an intelligent being born with the conscience of modern man think, or what could be said of him, of the world he was thrown into ?


Born from the void, I gaze upon that which isn’t by fear of losing myself. I hear my name, a similar being calls me, running. Why consult me, I who did not see a thing just a moment ago ? Already given a name I feel the need for being appeased. To be what ? This I do not know. I am nothing. I am a surface, a line, then, a spot. We discern me, and I do the same with nothingness. I observe and juge my world with a false understanding. My sight transforms the surface into a spot. We say this is the reason why spirits hate it when we make an opinion of them. If I only could observe like a reflection does. Think without thoughts, to not appreciate or depreciate. I would like to see the thing without the relation, but this is impossible now since I am. I still feel the void. He is everywhere. He is in me and in others. None of this is true ! No truth exists ! Only nothingness is real ! I fall and don’t fall, when everything falls with me. Am I a volume without a surface or a surface without a volume ? Preserve me, reflect me, discern me, I can’t take it anymore ! A sacrifice for my vues. Oh my kind, preserve me from myself and I shall preserve you of yourself ! We can give form, built, create and determine each other. Form is unexistent in both of us. Accord me for a moment the confidence of your being and I will make myself creator. Allow me to penetrate your surface and I will give you a volume. Let me discern your volume and I will give you a surface. Let us become a part of each other and allow ourselves existence. The lie we create becomes our reality and that of our descendance. With each generation the surface between truth and illusion will become more and more opaque until it only reflects the image of our intention.

We never discover the world in which we exist. We only discover how we can exist inside it. Eyes are born with a pure conscience before we steal it. The fear of nothingness creates the love of what is fixed, of the definitive, of language. Everything that surpasses this frontier is taken for nonsense and dispossesed from all value. After this, we redirect it towards the intervall of the acceptable. All reorientation of a being by another transforms it into the object of the other, this regardless of whether it is done with good or bad intentions. Language in itself is an ideology which we must be careful of.

If I could forget all knowledge profoundly inculcated in me, by me and by others, then I would be freed. This would be a return towards the primitive, a thought without thoughts. I would feel small, very small, like a child in a world of Giants. Everything would be new, I would be frightened and flabbergasted by the wondrous beauty of this new universe. It would be difficult for me to focus on one thing, when we perceive all that is. You perceive everything !

Sometimes, your eyes believe they distinguish something very similar to them, observing them from the other side : spirits for spirits. When everything is over you remember very few details : the speed, the colors, the sounds, the feelings. The forms are difficult to define, to discern in one’s mind. Nevertheless, you remember a melody originating from the very depths of your spirit, just before the end, but it is passing by to quickly for you. In not much time everything disapears, all is wiped off.

 

[thymamai]

Yippee, here we have another intellectually lazy dweller who thinks that other people must conform to his way of thinking, thinking that is directed solely for his own hedonistic metaphilosophical musings and no thought given if it is readily palatable to other people as well. Style over substance, strip the style, and substance is found wanting. What we have here is a Modern schizoid, a fat and florid giant bloated to the very limit of bursting and surrounded by a sickly yellow and moist cloud containing his twisted and masked wisdom. Hidden in the haze are precious and curved structures connoting deep insight when seen by an observer, but blow the daze and marvel from your mind by piercing the cloud with a forceful exhalation, if you indeed have the courage to swallow madness and lunacy, then you see a drugged madman dancing to his lonely tune.

 

[Pixar]

Yippee, here we have another intellectually lazy dweller who thinks that other people must conform to his way of thinking, thinking that is directed solely for his own hedonistic metaphilosophical musings and no thought given if it is readily palatable to other people as well. Style over substance, strip the style, and substance is found wanting. What we have here is a Modern schizoid, a fat and florid giant bloated to the very limit of bursting and surrounded by a sickly yellow and moist cloud containing his twisted and masked wisdom. Hidden in the haze are precious and curved structures connoting deep insight when seen by an observer, but blow the daze and marvel from your mind by piercing the cloud with a forceful exhalation, if you indeed have the courage to swallow madness and lunacy, then you see a drugged madman dancing to his lonely tune.

I like this ^

but can you explain if it is in relation to my post and how if it is ?

Thanks :want:

 

[Pixar]

Just started reading Anamnesia's reply. First and foremost : this is NOT my view, this is me writing from a slightly deranged yet truth embodying persona (I like that type) that represents humanity as a whole. I repeat : the "I" in the text is not me.

thymamai's reply make's me laugh now since this is the feeling I was hoping to spark in people, in it's most mundane form. Although I ask you to reconsider the part where you think it is just non-sense which I do not get very well. It is kind of funny to note that the "I" can be replaced by you in this sentence : "I observe and juge my world with a false understanding. My sight transforms the surface into a spot."

ahahaa so indeed you are criticizing yourself without realizing it xD

 

[Pixar]

Am I a volume without a surface or a surface without a volume?
How would you know you were alive unless you'd once been dead?
What would it be like to go to sleep and never wake up?
These are all the same question.

You missed the point :|
It is said in relation to the void, I don't want to make it's meaning obvious to you since that would be boring. I'd prefer if you figure it out yourself. :twisted:

I encourage you to reconsider. Is to see "the thing without the relation" what you really want? Have you considered what it would really be like to absorbed into the mind of God? What happens - if you realize you are God? What would it really be like? Is that what you really want?
Some people desire immortality. But none who desire immortality have understood the nature of time.

You once again missed the point :|
This has nothing to do with "God" or "immortality".

You don't exist inside the world. You exist of the world - you grew out of it, in the same way flowers grow when proper conditions arise. How can I exist inside the world? The answer is - I am hallucinating. I am dreaming. I am lost. And that is the whole point!

That is only linguistic detail, it doesn't change the idea as a whole.


I ask you humbly to reconsider the text with the edit I added on top of it that puts it into context.

Thanks !

 

[Pixar]

Yes yes that is true they are all the same thing, but only if you take them by themselves. In this context the surface is synonymous with appearences, in one sense, and the volume with a true meaning that is inherent to you, or I, which cannot be put in relation with the Other. For example, a volume without a surface could be said to be the universe since it is boundless, but it can also be said to be empty at the same time since we cannot put it into relation with anything else : it seems to not exist. While on the other hand a surface without a volume is basically most of the human population, yes I am misanthropic (althought if I respect you I do very profoundly and that is the case for most people here), with good reason.

Basically the age old intellectual critique of the masses and pseudo intellectuals who wear ideas as they wear clothes : they are void. They are mirrors, reflections of the Other. We are very good at imitation and we feel the presense of the void, although most aren't conscious of this fact, thus we desire our surface to be penetrated so someone can fill it for us. That is one of the major reason why we fail as a whole.


And yes, there is no answer because there is no question. We cannot question how the world is because our answer will only ever be "how can we be in the world?".

"All reorientation of a being by another transforms it into the object of the other, this regardless of whether it is done with good or bad intentions." In this context, most people are objects. How many people give up themselves to idolatry ? Reorientation of an idividuals being is the source of all anxiety. It is the inculcation of desires and seperateness. It is also much more than that...

"With each generation the surface between truth and illusion will become more and more opaque until it only reflects the image of our intention. " The intention is born from fear and laziness ( ahaha ) regarding the void. Knowledge of the void, conscious or unconscious, commes with language. Why is it most people become religious with age ? You also may have noticed how old people will say more and more with age : "this is this and that is that." With experience in life commes the dangers of the illusion of the absolute. How many people project their life experience unto others as if it is the absolute truth ? How many times do we hear people critisise only to endulge themselves in what they we're criticizing just a second ago ? The latter I personally call projection, but they have a name for it in psychology (I forget). It is a form of deculpibilisation : by setting boundaries throught critisism it is as if the individual put a barrier between him and the other, but what he is actually doing is putting a barrier inside himself.

 

[thymamai]

You know me too well, I guess I should be flattered -- that, gentlemen, was a copy-paste of another madmans response to something I wrote myself... 5 years ago now.

Your avatar, Pixar, is what reminded me. Im likely to read your poetic whirling more closely when I have more time..
just thought I'd give it a poke.. And have an inside joke (!)
w myself.

Carry on, prophets!

 

[Pixar]

You know me too well, I guess I should be flattered -- that, gentlemen, was a copy-paste of another madmans response to something I wrote myself... 5 years ago now.

Your avatar, Pixar, is what reminded me. Im likely to read your poetic whirling more closely when I have more time..
just thought I'd give it a poke.. And have an inside joke (!)
w myself.

Carry on, prophets!

OO what a twist ! I did not expect that ! :d

Yes I did get the feeling that the avatar played a role in this

If possible, I would be curious to know what this was said in response to.

 

[thymamai]

somniloquy, the talking dead

People don't know how to listen, and I least of all (these ears came in later with the new teeth by early years, spent adapting to the haven in flight). They just talk, talk, dragging the world down to eye level to spit on it and rub shoulders with the fellow junkie, incisionist, fiend. That goes for all, somewhere down in their low points there is a trick mirror in everybody, bending their minds, diverting into a hidden regress. No description sheds it any justice, even in the most transparent and simple. Deific, phallic. Symbol systems choking, smothering out the fresh resuscitations of the tranquil imaginary lying large and dormant in the far, horizontal right. Logic has made you her bitch, poisoned the potency, drawn out the hobbling and timid. Belly-gazing, gloating, profuse.

I don't miss the lost brain cells, the energy I lately spare this forum, but only when browsing the database. Meaningful discussion lays buried there. And everything else, the dust and sediment layer on layer..
Shit, someone bring me a spade and axe! Let me clear away all the rubbish of 12 and 6 o algunos meses de mierda y nada, and I shall strike gold some twenty hands down, drag my mummified comrades up with me for proper burial mound, possessions and tatters my incense.

To journey to the end of the night and stab one another at the chest and neck in the razor jest of good company.
On the way, don't forget to kick my head in. And I'll promise to carry your bones in my shirt dead man, you belong nowhere but in motion.

The worst is that I am part responsible. I've helped to push it along in a most obscene manner; walking on hands and gesturing with foot, this little imp talking out of his ass.
More cruel and ridiculous yet: all by accident. I'm serious, and then I'm not. Or I'm definitely not serious, but most ironic and grimly so. I've been trolling the best without even realizing, in the most confused, dare say hilarious? and obscene manner. And the hours spent in that way are frightening to guess at. Yes, and glorious fun to discover just how twisted, frighteningly twisted. The joke's all on me, my own, but my own are always the best anyway. So I feel no wrong by it. But to the extent that this madness has bled out, transfused to anyone else, the thought horrifies me as I know certainly of at least a few cases, here but many in face to face circumstances.

I am sick, and it pains me — tremendous! to only ever be motivated to speech by indulgent and bitter forces, of ego and despite. I can't trust myself with anyone, anywhere. I belong, truly and in all good conscience, belong on a sea floor, with jelly-fish, or in the baking desert fire, or even maybe in a dark wood, to be mauled by a bear - or some forgiving sasquatch concept, bless his heart.
The best and most respectable do not deserve to bother with words. So light and febrile are these, they're sure to scatter with the slightest breeze or sound.



What the fuck?
Nonsensical?
Lend an ear then to the violin. Relish in what makes a sullen breath flutter or pause, rather than suffocate.
[video=youtube;PdZccCC-O8s]

 

[Pixar]

Love it !

I am sick, and it pains me — tremendous! to only ever be motivated to speech by indulgent and bitter forces, of ego and despite. I can't trust myself with anyone, anywhere. I belong, truly and in all good conscience, belong on a sea floor, with jelly-fish, or in the baking desert fire, or even maybe in a dark wood, to be mauled by a bear - or some forgiving sasquatch concept, bless his heart.
The best and most respectable do not deserve to bother with words. So light and febrile are these, they're sure to scatter with the slightest breeze or sound.

Love Fantômas also

 

[thymamai]

Mind explaining the following line to me?

"Sometimes, your eyes believe they distinguish something very similar to them, observing them from the other side : spirits for spirits"

It's a rare thing someone else likes California as much as I do. Patton is a musical god.

 

[Pixar]

Basically, a DMT trip reference : on DMT I feel like i'm a pair of eyes wondering, on small to mid doses or when the trip is about to end, and when I had started taking it I would see pairs of eyes peeking from other dimensions all the time and of all different types. So it's like the world in between when your coming back or going for me.

Yes ! Too rare ! Patton is in 50% of all the music I listen to. :d