I’m the logic behind the metaphor, forever outside, forever inside.
Now, to Nietzsche,
To rebel, to be his lion, is to never be free – it is to always be subject to that to which one rebels against – it is to always be determined by that to which one reacts against. So, no, I am not Nietzsche’s lion. Nor am I his camel or his child; nor will I ever define my self, through his logic.
Spiritually, you ask us, who are we? You ask this of us, hoping to find an answer, to who it is you are. And I answer, that you shall not find your answer from us or from Nietzsche.
What is the motivation behind your question? Is it not motivated by the desire to become Nietzsche’s metaphorical child? You cannot become the child, my friend, until you reject the child. And even then, you are still a camel. But reject the camel, and you are his lion. Reject the lion, reject the metaphor, and you are tum’s product. And when you reject all that I have said, all that you have read, you won’t ever have to worry about being anything at all, for you’ll know what you are – but the moment you try and express it, the moment you attempt to crystallize the pattern, poof. And then, and only then, will you look around, up, down, inside, outside, and suddenly, begin to laugh. Like a child.
I know I have the best of time and space, and was never
measured and never will be measured.
I tramp a perpetual journey (come listen all!)
My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut
from the woods,
No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair,
I have no chair, no church, no philosophy,
I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, exchange,
But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll,
My left hand hooking you round the waist,
My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the
public road.
Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,
You must travel it for yourself.
It is not far, it is within reach,
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not
know,
Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.
Shoulder your duds, dear son, and I will mine, and let us
hasten forth,
Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go.
If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your
hand on my hip,
And in due time you shall repay the same service to me,
For after we start we never lie by again.
This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look’d at the
crowded heaven,
And I said to my spirit, When we become the enfolders of
those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of everything
in them, shall we be fill’d and satisfied then?
And my spirit said, No, we but level that lift to pass and con-
tinue beyond.
You are also asking me questions and I hear you,
I answer that I cannot answer, you must find out for yourself.
Sit a while, dear son,
Here are biscuits to eat and here is milk to drink,
But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes,
I kiss you with a good-bye kiss and open the gate for
your egress hence.
Long enough have you dream’d contemptible dreams,
Now I wash the gum from your eyes,
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of
every moment of your life.
Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore,
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me,
shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.
-Walt Whitman
Nietzsche is biscuits and milk. Have your share, eat slowly, enjoy the smells, the rich flavors, and then, laughingly dash forward with the vitality he fuels. Then, go create your own feast. Better still, create a banquet.
Variety and versatility = anti-singularity, freedom, width.
