Random Thoughts

The ubiquitous presence of advertisement in our times is a defining aspect of our reality.
We are constantly in the presence of marketing schemes and our modern capitalistic environment is polluted with images and slogans of coercion.
We are so immersed in a world of consumer symbolisms and allegories that everything becomes a subliminal assault upon our soul and even our ideas about self get processed through cultural archetypes and marketing mythologies.
Political discourse has become a sellers market where ideas get perverted by the need to become desirable to the lowest common denominator.
In all the hype culture dies underneath bottom lines and profit margins and what is left is the bare landscape of hollow neon signs and exaggerated imagery.

There is an advertising guru that goes by the name of Rapaille who is a French psychologist making a fortune selling his insights to corporate greed.
His genius lies in the recognition that how people explain their actions –in this case their purchases- has nothing or little to do with the real underlying reasons behind them.
He asserts that beneath every purchase lies a core reptilian motivation that cannot be resisted and which the mammalian brain is then asked to justify after the fact.
For instance he advised automobile manufacturers to build larger vehicles with tinted windows, like the Hummer, during a time of rising oil prices and diminishing car sales.
The reason, besides the explanations given about their practicality, their off-road capability, their beauty or whatever other excuses the buyers gave?
They represented a symbol of pure dominance; the reptilian need to rule over its own kind.

How do you price such metaphors of power?
You raise the prices so that they become more desirable due to their inaccessibility.
A seemingly irrational marketing ploy if one fails to consider the influence of the unconscious primitive mind on the conscious mammalian one.

Every product has a similar core effect on the mind.
Through the purchasing of a Label bearing a specific name the consumer buys membership within an exclusive club that represents what he/she would like to believe about their selves; an accessory of uniqueness that separates the buyer from the masses and becomes an outward illustration of an inner desire.
The symbolization of every particular product is constructed by meticulous attention to detail, clever marketing strategies and years of repetition until the product comes to represent a desirable primordial attribute that the consumer subconsciously must have as an accessory to his/her being.

All products have some kind of core symbolism whether they are toothpastes or sports cars.
The trick is discovering what the core symbol represents to the average consumer and then packaging it with the right metaphors.

This practice of product promotion has also entered areas we would like to consider holy, such as art.
Product placement is a popular method of exposure. A casually placed soft-drink can, a specific automobile used in a chase scene, a seemingly chance encounter in front of a particular restaurant chain all become commonplace.
The practice is so prevalent that talk shows, have turned into two-minute promotion opportunities and entertainment shows act like advertising subsidiaries to marketing firms.

Nothing escapes the vortex of consumerism.
All must be bought and sold, then thrown away so that something new can be bought and sold.

I remember the sparkling Aegean blue as twilight muted the glare, the rugged panoramic mountains of inland Arcadia, her soft flesh pressing against me in the night and the quiet dinners by the sea sipping on wine and feeling the southern winds tickling my ears.

I remember sunsets in Santorini and luscious forest walks after a spring shower beneath the canopy, the tender caresses of a violin in Monasteraki and the sounds of rushing river water as I waited for the dawn.
The moment passes us by and we lose it in an instant.
We appreciate life in hindsight or imagine it in foresight and the reasons aren’t always clear.

It could be this western lifestyle governed by time schedules and efficiency standards, whipping us through time before our consciousness can catch-up.
It could be the distorting effects of memory that erases the uncomfortable details of physicality and forgets worries and concerns, focusing our attentions on what really mattered.
It could be the romantic delusions of an imagination that exaggerates things in recollection and clouds reality with a hoped for utopia.
Or it could just be me……

But whatever it is, it is something to be considered.

To live in the present, to live in the moment, to forget the past and suspend hoping for a future is paramount in what is called, by the French, joie de vivre.
Losing ones self in the momentary ecstasy of existence and framing reality between two breathes is what is called joy.

Now, if only I could live up to this standard.

The often maligned bourgeoisie, stand around me in ignorant bliss.
Their preoccupation with the pursuits of social ascension and material inebriation makes them oblivious to my stare of bemusement and exasperation, and my smirk of cynical disgust is mistaken for a friendly smile.
But I have come to revise my original absolute loathing for them, when I discovered how much I depend on their misplaced vitality and hypocritical politeness.

Hatred is the product of fear, and as such it is always focused towards those that threaten us in some way.
The seemingly harmless middle-class is certainly a force to be reckoned with, in a world of small spaces and large dreams. In their total submission to social and cultural conventions they become a steamrolling power of conformity that erases all spontaneous occurrences of diversity and ensures an environment of peace and stability.
What is frequently ignored is how, this environment, the very product of social conformity, is also ironically the source of this spontaneity of divergence and how the unique become reliant on the very system they condemn and criticize as restricting.

In ancient Greece the ‘miracle’ of the Hellenic phenomenon was undoubtedly based on a dependable, disciplined and unaware agrarian populace toiling in the fields, unconcerned with metaphysical issues and totally committed to their adopted moral and social norms.
Without them, no philosophy would be possible and no intellectual contemplation would be feasible, even though those most benefiting from their single-mindedness failed to acknowledge this and only managed to look down at them from the heights, those they mocked, provided for them.

Similarly, in the west, the very existence of a leisure class and all occurrences of rebelliousness and divergence are reliant on a vast majority of thoughtless toilers aspiring to material wealth and peer acceptance.
These very bourgeoisie, that reach for moral and social perfection- that reach for that elusive paragon of happiness- that reach for self-validation in others- that reach for positions of power defined by institutional characteristics rather than personal ones, are responsible for the efficient and smooth running of a civilization that rewards us with sanitation systems, easy access to nutrition, access to information and knowledge, relative safety and prolonged life-spans.
Yet, the sport of mediocrity bashing persists amongst those that are advantaged by it and something I myself have been guilty of.
(Of course the concept of ‘mediocrity’ itself is but a matter of perspective; a superior mind in one group can be a mediocre one on another and vice versa.)

The reason why this is so, is because this vast majority of humanity, given the current ideals concerning democratic values, Christian ethics and political equalitarianism, are direct participants in individual choices and an imposition upon personal directions and desires.
Something very unattractive to the strong-willed and independent minded.
In fact, the social character of mankind and the majority’s total reliance on popular opinion to find personal ones makes the existence of pop-culture a necessity.

This imposition becomes sensed by everyone, most forcefully, during the teen years when previous childhood indoctrinating practices are tested and remnants of resistance and defiance are eradicated. It is during this time that the mediocre mind is established and shaped in the form that it will take for the remainder of its life and many of the exceptional are enticed or forced into capitulation and conformity to pre-established limitations.
The few that manage to escape this period intact, due to an excess of character strength and manage to remain unaffected, become bruised outcasts from a system they cannot ignore or escape but are forced to discipline themselves to, if for no other reason than simple survival.
They then go through the motions of social and cultural conformity, feeling ashamed for having to pretend or for having to compromise their own ideals and consequently feeling bitter towards the system, the institutions and individuals that maintain it.
This is where hatred for the middle-class takes root in the mind of the free-spirited.
What else can the sense of helplessness turn into, when one is urged to subjugate his will to the requirements of a social and cultural environment, he is in total disagreement with or with which he cannot relate to?
This sense of helplessness turns quickly into hatred and then to anger, when it is exasperated by the realization that the rules of the system are enforced and regulated by the very individuals possessing the obligatory weaknesses of mind and spirit required to become representatives and beneficiaries of it; the consequences of this, being that these outcasts are then controlled and dependant on individuals of lesser mental quality and character, the very types the system depends on.

This first reaction against those we immediately perceive as responsible for our indignity and indignation usually diminishes in time, if we utilize it precisely and effectively.
If un-attaching ourselves from the system that restricts us is our goal and becoming indifferent to the masses that comprise it is our aim, then a period of sacrifice is compulsory.
There are no wildernesses to escape into or to wander through like hermits of days gone by and complete solitude can be hard to find in a world of billions and borders.
The only solutions are either: surrender, death or a social parasitism.

Decalogue of Social Parasitism.

1- Let the many believe whatever stupidity they like.
2- Enjoy the benefits of the environment without being taken by its values.
3- Avoid becoming addicted to the luxuries the environment offers.
4- Live lightly.
5- Do not fight the conformity of the masses; ensure it.
6- Hypocrisy.
7- Only share your real opinions with those you consider your equals and then only if there will be no personal ramifications because of it.
8- Work towards social and economic disentanglement.
9- Manipulate mediocrity towards your own ends.
10- Remain flexible but strong.

Trapped within the confinement of my physical being, I am. Physical demands impose their presence upon my reason and necessity dictates the range of actions at my disposal. I want to break free from all of them; shatter them and lay them aside so as to objectively look upon them before I choose what among them I wish to accept and what to deny.
A man comes into this world and from the beginning his responsibilities, commitments and values are decided for him. He finds himself entangled in a web before he even learns to fly. It takes decades, if not a lifetime, of struggle and resistance to untangle or cut the strings of bondage and this only by the few aware and strong-willed enough to face reality and deal with the consequences of none-conformity and rebelliousness. Most, fatigued, disheartened and alone, come to terms with the realities around them, earning the label of ‘mature adult’ as they are welcomed into the manifold of social order, while others, more proud and unyielding perhaps, hold on to the exuberant characteristics of adolescence, making themselves targets of scorn and ridicule but often, also, of envy and interest.
Uniqueness and distinction is a product of consistent resistance. Like all suffering it endows the sufferer with nobility and grace.

Creative forces are always at a disadvantage. Our boat-pilot, in the caves of Deiros, mentioned that a centimeter of stalagmite or stalactite takes a century to form, as we transverse through the narrow, waterlogged passages, and I thought to my self that a few seconds with a chisel and hammer could undo millennia of uninterrupted creativity.
But is destruction just another expression of creation, as chaos may well be another arrangement of order?
Is the human mind or the conscious mind in general, prejudiced towards certain types of harmony, balance and order or are there concepts absolute, universal standards?
Regardless… the caves were magnificent. Chambers of wonderment produced through millions of undisturbed chance occurrences and governed by forces unknown and unseen.

The past hides behind the thin veneer of the present. As time passes new layers of reality are added on top of what was -in some places thicker and in others fine and transparent- burying it beneath sediment of change.
From the time one is born until ones death this cycle of alteration replaces an individual’s reality, forcing him to re-establish connections to it or reinvent himself so as to maintain relevance and comfort. But as age begins to affect adaptability and as ones waning strengths condemn him to fall behind in this struggle, the individual eventually wakes up in surroundings totally alien to him. The world as he knows it is gone, or rather buried there in front of him behind the surfaces but completely out of reach. Sometimes, here and there, due to the thinness of the subsequent layers of progress, some remnants of his past show through and fill him with sentimentality, nostalgia and a sense of loss and alienation.
This process of consistent change is more pronounced or more noticeable in environments with a rich historic past, such as Greece, where ancient monuments very often stand side-by-side with more modern structures or where previous cultural norms coexist and often compete with more recent ones. It is in such places that an underlying sadness and fatalism accompanies every individual through the course of his life. Change is exaggerated in a patchwork of not-so-buried pasts, where contrasts and juxtapositions are imposed daily on the senses.
Every human being is himself a product of his time. He mirrors the musical and artistic tastes of his history; he represents the behavioral and moral rules of his past –most often of his youth, in which time an individual becomes a willing and vulnerable recipient of external influences.
In time he finds himself to be also a remnant of a bygone age and an artifact of the world, now called ‘ancient’ or ‘old’.
For most the boundaries between past, present and future are well-defined and stand in sharp contrast to one another. For them the sensual input of any given moment defines their position in history and determines the course of their actions. The past is but a shadow in their mind; a source of recollection filtered through the distorting forces of remembrance but condemned to dwindle in significance as the temporal distance is increased between each moment. The future becomes an imagined supposition to be planned for but not to be overly preoccupied with. What is to come can only be thought to mirror what has been or be exaggerated and glorified through human need and hope.
For some few though, for those sensitive, artistic restless souls that float in limbo in time, the past, present and future intertwine in a distracting jumble of chaos. They not only exist in every instance of their past but can project themselves in time to the future.

His shadow looms over me still. I’m afraid it shall until the day I die.
I’m tyrannized by it and his aura envelopes me like a mist.
Should I admit to all the times I wished for his death, that I prayed for his absence, should I recall my hate for him at times?
Yes, I will, I shall. I own it. I take it as my responsibility, my truth, my burden.
And now, I sometimes wish to die alone, leaving nothing and nobody behind; an end to the line, I want to be, so that nothing of me remains to suffer upon this accursed and meaningless existence. I want nobody to cry for me, to remember my distinctive mannerisms, to reminisce over moments in time, past and gone forever.
Do I deserve so much suffering? Did he deserve it?
I wonder if pleasure or happiness was ever meant for me, for us, for our kind. Our kind that felt so much that saw so much; that wanted so little and got just that.
I am my father’s son. He breathes within me, he talks to me through my thoughts, and he dominates me still.
I embrace him, this man of discontent.

He loved me this man; this stranger.
As a boy I feared him, his steely gaze, his knotted jaw, his clenched fists, and like all things we fear, I grew to hate him with a passion.
I blamed him for every suffering, for every dilemma in my life, before I took on, the responsibility for it all, upon myself as an act of redemption.
It was then that I saw him as what he was: a frightened, unsure, romantic doing the best he can with what he was given. Then I felt an affinity towards him; an affinity shared only by only the few outsiders existing on the peripherals of life or those with a genetic relation.
I still recall his face before the end. That instant of sheer joy in recognition, as he lay there tubed-up and force-fed the breath of life.
It stands out clear and honest in my mind; an image of pure love offered in the straight-forward, unambiguous language of facial expression.
How ironic that this man of so many words could not utter a single one when it mattered, when I really wanted to hear his voice, when I wanted to gather his words like souvenirs.
I still ask myself: “Who else will ever look upon me in this way, how many will smile at the simple sight of me? How many will love me like that, not perfectly, not effortlessly, not consistently but so purely, so honestly?”

Space
If I were more than man I would not falter, I would not need, I would not hope and dream and grasp.
But a man I am.
So here I sit stewing in my own juices, rejoicing and suffering in my own thoughts.
It is my hand, governed with a mind of its own, that reaches outwards and grasps at twigs and soil; it searches for a stone to call its own, a piece of solidity, even if illusionary, to rest upon, to stand upon, to make a last stand on, to build a house on and call it a castle.
Have I loved?
More deeply than anyone can know but I have hated also, just as passionately, just as mindlessly, just as unreasonably. Most of all I’ve hated what I was forced to become by a world I did not select or for the things I’ve had to compromise on and suppress for; by a world that could not appreciate or tolerate the likes of me.
Perhaps they have been right all along and the meek shall truly inherit the earth; perhaps it is the natural course of things and I have become obsolete, undesirable, weird, and dangerous to the sedated harmony.
A dinosaur that does not know that it is dead already.
One of the last of my kind I must be then, for I have found so few others like me, destined to perish in a world with no new frontiers, no unclaimed territory, and no unspoiled wilderness. My creed has always flourished on the edges of civilizations where its uncompromising spirit was essential for taking the risks necessary, to cast off in solitude into the unknown.
Yet, there above us is the grandest unclaimed frontier of them all so close and still beyond our technological reach: space.
Isn’t space all ‘my kind’ ever really needed?

Oh, what I would not give to see the world again through unknowing eyes; to dive into the mysteries head first in excited ignorance, unhindered by the weight of experience.
The Earth is small, my vision too weak and my mind too needy to keep me from boredom. Things have become familiar and predictable. What once filled me with awe only raises a snicker from me now.
Perhaps George Mollas has the solution: Where no mystery lies, create one; where there is no adventure or excitement, give birth to it in your mind; where there is shallow reef, dig into imagination and see the unfathomable abyss.
After all, is it not there that we all live anyway?
The senses are only there for suggestions; reason a clay mould awaiting your fingers to shape it into reality.
Yet it seems such a terrible price to pay for contentment…

-In solitude I’ve endured my pain; alone I’ve battled my demons and bled from my wounds; on my own I’ve accepted my burden and learned to deal with the consequences.

This cross is mine and I shall bear it by myself, I shall carry its mass atop my own Golgotha and there I shall face my own crucifixion and hope that I am strong enough to be resurrected, like a phoenix from the flames, as something new, something better or, if not, be utterly destroyed and forgotten as a common thief upon the mound.

Suffering has been my constant companion, my demanding guide, my unappreciated benefactor and confident. Like a shadow it has accompanied me along my way and stood by me, patiently, when I wept, when I wailed and pleaded with unseen entities for leniency.

There was a time, when I was younger and more naïve, that I despised my fate and went to great lengths to avoid the light that cast this accursed shadow all about me; I cried and whined and screamed against life’s unfairness, at the misery of my circumstances, at the tragedy of my existence and the inevitable. This was before I realized that this shadow, any shadow, is the necessary consequence of living in the light, as pain is the inescapable condition of consciousness, of being aware of the universes constant flow, of becoming.

It is inseparable from life, it is life.

In time, I grew to appreciate suffering, I learned to tolerate it and, like a hard and cruel father, appreciation for it, as for him, only becomes apparent when one matures and understands the necessity of the cruelty in his methods and recognizes the love there.

Through suffering excess baggage is discarded, infantile fat is burned into hard muscle, smooth skin is scarred thick, superfluity is replaced by efficiency and the mind is forced to focus on the essential. It is how weakness perishes.

But misery and torment are more than a state of physical/emotional being, it is how we are made aware of an alteration occurring, it is how we perceive the constant universal flux. Because of it, we know that something is either being destroyed or constructed beneath the surfaces of our sensual perceptions.

When loss occurs and the infinite reclaims your piece of power, this degeneration is expressed in anguish; when a gain occurs and power is wrestled away from the infinite and made, temporarily, part of the multiplicity working simultaneously both in union and in confrontation that we call self, this struggle is expressed as hardship, as pain.

-In solitude I’ve endured my sorrow; alone I’ve ridden the seas of mourning-sometimes calm, so that I sail high upon the surface beneath turquoise skies and sometimes turbulent, so that I struggle to keep afloat and above the churning waves that threaten to envelop me and drag me down into the dark, cold abyss- and sought after my own way back home.

I display myself at times, I expose my personal drama for all to see, and I force others to become unwilling witnesses to my tragedy and jeering spectators to my misfortune. I exhibit myself openly, hoping that one amongst them will be distracted enough away from their own personal journey or touched sufficiently by our shared misery, to volunteer into sharing my weight, our weight, for a while, knowing that, in the end, each mans burden is his own and can never be thoroughly comprehended but only shared a bit through empathy and imagination.

Despite the distances and the limitations the human in me desires to share this march to my doom; wants to make it meaningful as an example, wants to embed it with purpose and in the storm I long for a tender touch and a gentle gaze, I pray for a willing hand and an open heart to unload my soul on and find tranquility in the chaos and in return I offer myself as ally.

-In solitude I’ve governed my existence; alone I’ve gathered the reigns, one by one; being at once not willing to die but not too keen on living, either. A reluctant warrior I am, cast upon a battlefield with no front lines, a charioteer blindfolded and empty-handed searching for the reigns.
In the confusion, in the ambiguity of galloping feet, I learned to focus my attentions on the relevant and save my energies for the essentials and sought after an elusive stillness, a calm garden to plant my seeds and watch them flourish; an enclosed sanctuary to escape into, if only for a short time, and reattach myself to myself and reassert myself upon the infinite.

But these steeds are not easily restrained; they snort and froth with wide-eyed furry, rushing towards unknown directions. It takes all my strength to just nudge them gently with my Will and all my courage to tolerate their vulgarity.

In the end I’ve always known what the inevitable conclusion to my earthly drama would be. The mound looms over me, often casting a shadow that cannot be ignored. I’ve called this hill Olympus, so as to make my journey evocative while hiding my deep uncertainty and my anxiety about this final day of reckoning.

As I’ve kept m eyes forward-feigning and twisting through the village streets, looking into the crowds lining my passage, for a sympathetic gaze, a knowing smile to distract me from my ‘passion’- the accursed mound has always remained there, on the corners of my peripheral vision, mocking me, as I carry my cross to it.

-And now that I’ve grown accustomed to my fate and learned to accept the restrictions to my power, I am grateful for every pang of pain, I wear every scar with pride and every bruise with honour and I relish the sensation of suffering as evidence of my struggle.

It is this that has made me what I am, it is my endurance that has crafted me and showed my worth, it is my spilled blood that has separated me from the throng and made them marvel at my potency.
Now they hear my words and deny it; they see my beauty and deny it; they feel my strength and deny it.

They deny me thrice and cast stones and question my existence; they mock and spit at me to excuse themselves from my ideal.
Even their scorn tests me. I embrace it as another challenge, one more weight to be carried to my destination; the nails that will hold me on my height.

I accept it all. It is the price for being alive, for being aware, for becoming……

Much has been said about maturity and growing old.
The dominating feeling is that to “mature” is a natural progression of existence and a desirable one at that.

But what exactly is meant by the term “maturity”, as it pertains to the human animal?

If we take it as a biological ascension to a physical potential, such as a fruit maturing on the branch or the achievement of the ability to reproduce, then we may disregard its totality; if we take it as a psychological benchmark, where the toils and experiences of the world embellish the individual with knowledge and talents, making him jaded and joyless in the process, then, here again, we may be just considering the phenomenon from a purely optimistic and temporally linear point of view where evolution, in itself, means progress to a higher state and the past always refers to a primitive, undesirable, ignorant existence.

As with everything, when something is gained something is also lost and when something is lost something is also gained.

We can all remember our childhood years, full of wonder and curiosity for a world not yet known, full of hope, and danger where no limits were considered and death itself but a distant myth, full of honesty and authenticity in interpersonal relationships with no demanded social graciousness, enforced politeness and social prerequisites, full of cruelty, love, hate, compassion but most of all, purity of motive and free expression of character with little shame or self-consciousness.

We can all remember the sheer joy of just living, of grasping the entire day and squeezing it dry of its possibility, of being unburdened by responsibilities [other than to ourselves or those imposed by adults upon us], duties, regulations [other than natural ones] and the restrains of “reality” that suffocates the liberating gasps of the imagination.

It was then ironically, when still unripe seedlings that we displayed the true spirit of our inner being and when, protected by others and allowed to frolic in the playgrounds of existence, we lived naturally and fully; it was then, when still strong and unhindered and when still full of untapped energy and unbridled focus that we felt the rapture of being alive and present in every moment.

But like the young tree needs to harden and become inflexible in order to withstand the strong winds, men also grow old and harden becoming, unbending trees with only one direction and few options reaching for the sky but leaving the earth far behind.

It is during the adolescent years that the first realization of what is required and what sacrifices are demanded from the individual begin sinking in.

It is while we were teenagers that we discovered that just being ourselves was not to be tolerated and certain behaviours were not to be allowed and in the despair we accepted the roles others forced upon us and we chose the masks we were to wear for the rest of our lives in order to be accepted and in order to survive in environments with their own rules and regulations.

The teen years are a kind of social boot-camp where all individuality is eradicated, personality repressed and any sign of undesirable uniqueness is destroyed. Utilizing the same indoctrination methods a military institution uses to create uniformity of thought and unity of action, a “new recruit” is moulded and changed, and the child that was becomes the mature entity that uses the very standards it is restrained by to exhibit its greatness and its adherence to the popular norms as its claim to personal value.

How often to we hear “old” men proclaim their worth by mentioning their ability to pay their taxes, to remain disciplined to the laws of their nation and their commitment to the moral and cultural standards of their peers?
Is it not always the wearied and those lacking vigour that defend the norm and attempt to conserve the past?

Is it not always those that have made their choices, invested their energies and have grown inflexible and intolerant of change, that try to extinguish any spark of youthful exuberance and any carefree spirit?

Is it not those that have been beaten-down and broken that now voice the embittered laugh of mockery towards those that still exhibit any childlike characteristic of purity, curiosity and exaltation for life?

Is it not always those with no or little choice that try to discredit all choices other than the ones they’ve made?

In a world chock-full of threats and with death looming behind every sunrise, in a world full of war, disease and unforeseeable dangers what a waste to spend it all in imitation, in paying for ones right to participate and in subjugation to common ambitions.

Being someone that now is considered “mature” and being one that has a vivid recollection of my childhood past, I am often dismayed by the complete boredom and repetitive interests of those in my age group.
It appears that living the common life-styles isn’t as interesting or as meaningful as many believed it would be.

Life now has become an endless struggle to escape monotony and to fill the few instances of free-time with excitement and wonder that came so easily in the past.

Our existence now a scampering run to fulfill our obligations, to meet our responsibilities, to pay our bills, to become “good” citizens.
But what is our responsibility to ourselves?
If we were to die tomorrow, will we have lived at all?"

Beside every mind that dares to dream walks the spectre of disappointment.

It is the impossibility of precision that results in overshooting or undershooting every target, as every desire is exaggerated in proportion to our want of it and our confidence in acquiring it. What follows is the consequence of this inaccuracy which hangs over man as both a benefactor and a blight we call: hope.

It is this inexorable particle of life, that pushes all things forwards into final conclusions and inflates existence with its, mostly, deceitful winds.
Hope, when considered superficially and through the distorting lenses of ego and fear, can be thought of as a positive manifestation of the desire to live, whose loss no man could endure for long. When considered further it is also the sinew which attaches us to desire by imprisoning us behind walls of expectation, driving us to willingly submit to that which, in our mind, can facilitate the expected and even make us relish our submission to a favourable misrepresentation of probability.

I’ve been told that: ‘Where there is life, there is hope’ and along with it, I would add, all the accompanying pains and sufferings which this naturally entails and that are, most often, ignored or denied. It is perhaps ironic that when things are at their most unpromising conditions that the rainbow of hope makes its most vivid appearance forcing us into our most vehement striving even in the face of insurmountable odds. From this perspective it loses its magical veneer and becomes just another survival tactic which maintains the desirability of life by rolling incessantly the dice of chance.

Kazantzakis urged us and maybe bragged a little when he wrote: “I hope for nothing, I fear nothing; I am free”.
Yet, how many of us possess the courage and strength to truly be free?

Intertwined within the fabric of every human being, of every living entity, lies the innate string of need that often manifests itself in fear with which nature weaves her tapestries and binds us to her mechanisms. To sever these strings, to any extent that this is possible, is to cast ourselves into the void of happenstance without any stability or comfort and this ‘disengagement’ along with the resulting responsibility, fills man with anxiety. No human, in the present form, could fully accept the entire breadth of liberty and all the ramifications it entails.

“Hope is the last to die”, it has been said and this because it perishes with the slow attrition of time and the consistent degradation caused by life’s woes. Most grasp upon hope even in the rasping of a last breath, while the few eventually reach a stage, usually in their twilight years, when hope wanes and the fear of death diminishes, leaving behind either an honest indifference or a quiet acceptance of the inevitable. It is then that freedoms boundaries are brushed-up against and the mind experiences the sublime wonderment of complete disinterest with ones own fate which opens the gates of transcendence.

The paradox in the entire matter rests in that as indifference increases the acquisition of what is or was desired, to whatever degree, is made easier by steadying the hand that reaches with the removal of the stress and the nervousness that shadows every desire and need. It is as if we are made worthy of that which we least want and that which is more accessible to us, making man nothing more than a tool of overcoming and unquenchable ambition.

• The decline of any civilization is but an inevitable consequence of attrition; its success results in the circumstances of its own demise.
This is so because success eliminates the resistance that made it necessary and it exterminates the challenges that would keep it fit.
The same thing can be said about individuals or any unit of singular purpose.
For what is a person but a culture of molecules and a civilization of drives?

• One of the consequences of this decline is that the whole ceases to inspire or to discipline its parts to a single Will.
The parts become disenchanted, as weakening central control creates distances between the one from the many.
Rebellion ensues as pieces disentangle themselves from the entirety and become cancerous by attracting others of their kind to them.
We can see some of the effects of these phenomena in modern western societies, as their authority wanes and their earlier dominance fade.
Decadence is one such effect, as a culture’s moral fabric dwindles and individuals are cast free into the void.

• Free-Spiritedness is a natural occurrence within any unity for, every so often, a part of the whole, either due to dysfunctional design or an overabundance of resistant energy, fails to be indoctrinated harmoniously.
As the central controlling strength is weakened rebelliousness and free-spiritedness cease to be unique or a special circumstance but increasingly becomes commonplace as the whole deteriorates into nothing.
Its parts might reconstitute themselves into new unities or they will be obliterated or they will be absorbed into other stronger unities.
Ironically, freedom is another sign of deterioration and decadence, as excess liberty of the parts constitutes the whole superfluous.

• Just like a plant needs protection, support, nourishment and direction to survive its early delicacy and to harden its own rooting core and stem so that it becomes resistant to external elements, so it is for any living entity.
If these needs are not met early on the plant perishes or is warped or it atrophies, never reaching its full height or it mutates into something different from the original design.
What better explains current mutations and atrophying psychologies than this?
The loss of respect for authority, the absence of belonging and the psychological anxieties cultural decadence breeds is more evident within the young who are more desperately in need of guidance and a disciplining power.

• Manifestations of cultural decline amongst the populace- disregard for authority, exaggerated autonomy, directionless undisciplined striving, anger and bitterness towards all forms of control, a lack of moral fibber and/or respect towards everything including self, the need to latch onto counterculture and cultish ideals to replace the old ones or a need to rediscover old institutional ideals, a distancing from the norm and a desire to paint themselves with the colors of revolt, a rampant pessimistic cynicism to excuse participation, self-hatred, indifference to political participation, absence of ambition, social parasitism and lethargy, an obsession with destructiveness, a grasping onto any firm ground no matter its absurdity, a superficial engagement with life, an inability to appreciate the joy of simple living.
All these are attestations of cultural decline.

• Institutionalisation- The institutional mind is characterized by a complete inability to function outside a domineering and authoritarian structure.
In sophisticated social structures the ordered predictability, relative safety and efficiency it imposes become addictive to its participants.
This addiction sometimes has effects on an individual’s daily habits and rituals where any source of chaos and disorderliness causes anxiety and stress.
As the sheltering environment of the social structure diminishes the primordial instinctual drives are rekindled within a body unable to tolerate them or defuse them because now it has been domesticated.

• Boredom is a by-product of social structure.
The mind, evolved for more unpredictable and stressful environments, must be diverted through surrogate means.
Excessive work, ubiquitous entertainment, available legal and illegal medications and sexual promiscuity are some of the alternative diverting methods.
Fatigue a placating mechanism where the mind is drained of its energies and leisure becomes a luxury to be earned.

• Deinstitutionalisation- As the bars rust and the walls crumble, through neglect, the guards become complacent and sleep in the shadows.
Those that were once shackled suddenly find themselves in the open air surrounded by horizons of direction.
This is when some turn back in horror and try to rebuild the very walls that kept them in before.
Some go mad and cannot deal with the solitude of independence and the responsibility of choice.
The rest turn desperately to one another for comfort. Through this new alliance they build stronger structures using the lessons of the past as a guide and become more efficient jailers.

• Reason- The source of disillusionment and the loss of contentment can be found in the rebellious nature of reason.
It resists the incarceration of the body and the jurisdiction of instinct is questioned.
This conflict frees reason from the precinct of body but it then leaves it destitute scanning its surroundings for direction.

• Like all forms of resistance its success or failure is determined by its ability to conceal itself, by its ability to find fertile ground to grow in and its ability to adapt and alter strategies as the circumstances demand.
At times these strategies are more productively directed towards the self.

• The fate of every unpopular rebellion is that it becomes a caricature of itself and is mocked by all not touched by its spirit or its concerns.

• Schopenhauer believed that music was the purest expression of the underlying universal Will.
Given this very eloquent appraisal it would be easy to assume that the type of music an individual connects with most accurately represents the reverberations of his inner Will.
Consequently rebelliousness is most profoundly echoed through the angered energy and unyielding crescendo of the music it prefers.

Much has been said about the aristocracy of strength and the ideal of obstinate will. Even more has been said about the creative influences of aggression and the progressive drives of violence and destruction.
Setting aside our modern prejudices and our civilized sensibilities, for a moment, it would not be very hard to admit that, in general, it has been mans basest nature and animal instincts - which have been labelled negative and deemed undesirable in more recent times – that are to be held responsible for mans most exceptional discoveries and conquests.

Western Civilization, in particular, owes much of its success and popularity to a foundation of unrelenting struggle, a spirit of competitiveness and a tradition of ruthlessness, arrogance and brutality.
Instead of resisting self and denying natures dictums, in an effort to rise above them or become separate and indifferent to them, western man – except for those instances of external intervention by eastern philosophies and the effects of decadence – has been more inclined to accept reality as it is perceived and to embrace the totality of what it means to be a conscious, living being.
Science being just one more product of this western tradition.

So, it should not astound us to discover that it has been a predominately western intellectual practice to expand upon the efficiencies of natural selection, the virtues of the ‘Will to Power’, the natural tendencies of Capitalism, the majesty of, what the Hellenes termed, ‘friendly competition’, the merits of scientific methodology, the beneficial consequences of, what some have aptly called, the ‘Lucifer Principle’, and to excuse any destructive consequences or remain unapologetic about the ramifications and their collateral damages.
It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, so it would seem prudent to aspire towards top dog status. Recognizing the rules, after all, is the first step towards empowerment, admitting them to ones self is the second step and the next step, after that, is coming to terms with the implications.

It has been curious, therefore, for me to discover that a dominant common characteristic of a mind blessed or burdened with heightened awareness, which eventually leads to this sort of evaluation, is this, sometimes, contradictory exaggerated sensitivity – what I once referred to in an earlier essay as ‘Hypersensitivity’ – and this inclination towards compassion, reverence and sympathy, in contradiction to, the before mentioned, evaluations.
The brightest and most interesting minds I’ve met, almost always, exhibited a profound oversensitivity and a genuine, natural empathy towards all suffering and misery.
It’s as if, this struggle for power and control, gained through knowledge, is improved or even provoked by a deeper understanding of misery and helplessness.
Who better, then, can possess this connection to despair than one that has experienced it in ones own life directly or that can, through imagination and empathy, connect to the wretchedness and powerlessness of another and experience it indirectly?
Here is why much of what is called wisdom, is in reference to a mind that understands what torment and weakness is and that has found methods and systems of dealing with it.

In my own compulsion to understand self and to analyze and control my environment and the sources of human rationality, I have acquired, as a side-effect, a deeper comprehension of human nature. I hope.
I have been guided to the revelation that the root cause of all awareness and understanding is the ability to use imagination, with some degree of accuracy, which enables the mind to experience multiple perspectives without having to empirically experience them for itself.

It is evident that, there are two methods of acquiring information:
-The first is by personal experience, which places self in dangerous and precarious situations and is, by far, superior to any other, even if time consuming and inefficient.
-The second is using observation, analysis and deduction of second-hand experiences, which unburdens the individual from many of the costs but can only provide a hypothetical and uncertain judgment, resting on a foundation of faith.
But this second method, when used consistently, has a curious by-product, when coupled with a powerful imagination and an empathic disposition. It results in abstract reasoning.

This abstraction of reality, or the ability to construct precise mental models of external phenomena, so as to analyze them spherically and completely from a distance, enables the mind to avoid the personal consequences of direct experience and it surpasses sensual, physical limitations, maximizing efficiency and effectiveness at the expense of accuracy and certainty.
It also intensifies the minds capacity to become self-reliant, in the acquisition of reality and more independent in its production of belief.
This ‘gift’ is often called critical thought and is dependant on sensual sensitivity and mental flexibility.
If it is sufficiently exercised and honed, this practice of extrapolation can even become more precise than the direct evaluations of a lesser mind’s experiential based deductions.

Here we must recognize that no judgment can be thoroughly accurate and that all evaluations must, as Kant put it, find correspondence and a connection to external empirical phenomena, as interpreted by the mind through sensual representation.
No abstract model can stand separate from sensual reality, for even the concept of self is the separation of sensual representations, what it called external, from intuitive mental processes and a priori concepts, what is called internal, realities.

The differentiating properties of critical reasoning can be readily perceived in how a mind remains sceptical and uncertain about its constructs, even in the face of supporting evidence, whereas another remains convinced and absolute about things it only superficially perceives, despite the absence of any evidence at all.

It is my view, that what is most responsible for rampant brutality and cruelty or even for the opposing phenomena of rampant gentleness and kindness, is this misevaluation of what lies at the heart of all men, by individuals lacking the capability to empathise - a mind that is unable to place ones self in another’s shoes and from there deduce and induce motivations and perspectives is incapable of grasping reality in any way approximating completeness – or the ability to doubt and question itself to any degree, leading to an absolute certainty about ones own perspectives.

The determining factor for heightened perception is the effect of superior sensual receptivity and empathic interconnectivity which begins, in its early stages, with a veracious curiosity and an appreciation for minute detail.
Those able to consciously perceive detail and include it in the construction of opinion possess an advantage over those that can only perceive detail unconsciously, giving rise to intuitions, feelings or premonitions, or that cannot perceive detail to a comparable degree.
This because, one that is conscious of the totality of what participates in his or her judgments has a better comprehension of the object or the concept being evaluated and judged as opposed to someone sensing things without being able to explain how or why.
I can only explain this appreciation for detail as a result of genetic predispositions which is nurtured through an environment of necessity.
We can assume that a creature of the wild is more attuned to sensual details because its life depends on it whereas an animal brought up in captivity and relative safety is less sensitive, by comparison.

This ‘hypersensitivity’ often expresses itself, early on, in a profound gentleness towards all living things and a desire to defend and to protect the most vulnerable and misunderstood, since the first realization of a rational mind is its own limitations, vulnerability and its shared destiny with every other living organism.
One becomes amicable to that which reminds it of its own hidden insecurities.

From this starting position of heightened receptivity and interconnectivity comes the recognition of personal imperfections and the psychological fatigue derived from the struggle to come to terms with ones own powers and the confines of ones control.
The world is not only a dangerous and unpredictable place but it is also indifferent to personal desires and hopes. The consequent pain and suffering, this leads to, and the inability to remain blind to it concludes, in those blessed or damned with the ‘gift’, in self-destructiveness, insanity or in an eventual exaggerated hardening of the spirit necessitated by self-preservation.

I am convinced that many of the philosophical positions espousing and glorifying confrontation, struggle, viciousness and the acceptance of natural inclinations, are grounded in a deep frustration with mankind’s impotence and a reaction against the weight of exaggerated sensitivity.
History’s greatest misanthropes have been sensitive souls that became disillusioned with mankind’s potential to become more than what it is and eventually came to realize that all creation is the result of the very things they abhorred.
I would also claim that history’s greatest villains were the product of hatred towards the perception of weakness and helplessness in the self, projected outward to those representing extreme cases of it.
For, what can be more disconcerting to awareness than the understanding that most altruistic, loving and compassionate ideologies are embedded in hypocrisy, selfishness and intolerance, and that there is nothing to be done about it, and what can be more distressing, to it, than the realization that pain and suffering are inseparable particles of what it means to be alive and, from which, only death can save us?
One is torn, at once, by a sense of gratitude and ingratitude with existence. To what direction one leans, on the scales of thankfulness and cynicism, is determined by factors out of our control.

Quit frustrating then, that it has always been those that have most vehemently proclaimed their own righteousness, benevolence and compassion, who have been the guiltiest of the opposite and ignorant about it, as well.
There are temples, churches and various places for worshiping ‘good’, ’loving’ gods, filled with the vilest and most unaware amongst us and the greatest tragedies that have befallen mankind have all begun with ‘good’ intentions.
They, these simpleton absolutists, are the first and the loudest to declare their own ‘goodness’, humility and compassion in an effort, I suppose, to believe in it themselves or perhaps to disguise their innate vileness and primitiveness.
I would say that, in contradiction to common belief, the most genuine emotions of love and of compassion, can be found in those most fervidly denying the truthfulness and purity of these emotions, as a reaction against the vulnerability this exposes them to and partly owing to the slandering of these passions by individuals incapable of appreciating them honestly, purely and to their fullest.

It has also been those that proclaimed the gloriousness of war and the honour of battle, often displaying their willingness to prove their worth through artificial means of sporting events, digital simulations and extravagant verbalizations of machismo, which have been the guiltiest of ignorance concerning the realities of what they declared.
Only a fool would admit to an appetite for violence when all it is, is a projection of inner frustration, defensiveness and fear when facing a potential threat.
How appropriate, then, that those most often indulging in their primordial need for violence are the very ones that are the least aware of what this entails and the ones with the most to prove, through it.

The road a sensitive soul must take is fraught with danger, temptations and entrapments.
Yet, it is a necessary journey towards enlightenment.
Here are the stages of enlightenment, as I perceive them:

First Stage - An awakening to the world of sensual detail and empathic connectivity.
During this time the mind is struck by the callousness and brutality of the world around it and it seeks to sooth the troubled soul by offering guidance and help to those most in need of protection and nurturing.
Empathy for others is an indirect projection of love for self through others and the understanding that the fates of all are intertwined in an unforeseeable future.
All aware minds are differentiated from other, less aware, minds by the degree in which they are touched by pain and suffering in all things.
The inability to cause harm to animals, for instance, is a characteristic of heightened sensitivity to the world around it, by a mind seeking a way out of its own vulnerability.
This is the time when a mind is attracted to ideologies and utopian dogmas, promising much and delivering nothing.
Communism, Christianity, Equalitarianism, Liberalism, Nationalism become the life-preservers a mind grabs onto in despair.

Second Stage - An awakening to the limitations and powerlessness of the self against insurmountable odds and uncontrollable and imperceptible forces.
During this stage the limits of personal power are understood and the ensuing sense of helplessness and the consequent feelings of self-hatred, resulting in a desire to escape reality, either through death or through denial of need and self, come forth.
This is the period where the aware mind seeks peace and solitude and emotions are perceived as undesirable distractions that prevent reason from finding an earthly salvation.
Some find solace in nihilistic tendencies, of the Schopenhauer type, either through a Buddhist escape or a desire to cease to exist through suicide; some find solace in pre-existing ideologies and dogmas and embrace, what has been previously denied, in an effort to return to the first stage of naïve idealism and based on the hypothesis that all is probable if its impossibility cannot be proven absolutely; some turn inward in an effort to separate self from the world that is so vile and chaotic, often burying awareness by distracting it through fantasy or books or drugs or music or imagination separated from sensual perception; some literally seclude themselves - like Kaczynski attempted to do but failed in the end – cutting themselves off from the sources of their sensual distress. The sensual awareness of reality cannot be turned off, unless one uses artificial means, so one might attempt to limit the amount of information one is exposed to.

Third Stage – An awakening to the merits of callousness and indifference.
During this stage, and if the previous two are survived and surpassed, the mind rebels against its own empathy and connection to the universe.
The survival instinct kicks-in and self is placed on the pedestal of importance that was denied to it early on.
This is the time when the recognition of worthiness is emphasized and ones own empathy, compassion and love is carefully offered only to those that warrant such sacrifices to psychological well being and free-will.
This hardening of the skin should not be misinterpreted as an imitation of callousness and indifference of lesser minds that function instinctively and intuitively and with little understanding.
The differences being in that here, and after all the stages have been passed, the ability of compassion and empathy and love still exists but are now doled out sparingly and with stricter criteria than the old ‘Love thy neighbour’ because they become precious commodities reserved for only the few.

Once the realization that the self is not like all the others and so redemption cannot be acquired in unison; that the mind cannot exist separated from its nature and the rules cannot be escaped by simply turning away from them; and that many living beings, particularly of the human kind, are really quit deserving of hatred and indifference, then the mind seeks out personal fulfilment and social interaction governed by reason rather than instinct.

No longer do the pains and sufferings of all find a sympathetic ear in one who has discovered the real quality of the average man and who has come to terms with mans overall character and with nature’s methods.

Here I must mention, in conclusion, that we mustn’t misinterpret sensitivity, at least the sort I’m talking about here, as a kind of fragility or weakness, no more than we can call a man burdened with a two-hundred pound backpack feeble, when he buckles under the weight when his companion does not, under the weight of a one hundred pound backpack.
Exceptional receptivity can become a useful tool and an advantageous attribute, but it can also become detrimental to the individual possessing it, threatening not only sanity but life as well.
Whether the advantages outweigh the disadvantages, in this case, is a matter of perspective.

In this age of wonder and abundance I am struck by its emptiness, its superficiality and meaninglessness. It appears that abundance only diminishes the value of everything and establishes everything as a hollow shell of surfaces with no inner core.

We always take for granted what is plentiful.

Marshall Mcluhan said,”The medium is the message.” and in today’s world technology is this message. Culture and tradition have been replaced, no overpowered, by the insatiable drive for technological advancement. The world is measured, weighed and numerically determined until nothing is left but an algorithm and a mathematical function, where man himself is turned into a statistic to be evaluated through scientific dimensions.

Where the technological advancement of the written word diminished tradition and the value of storytelling and established personal experiences as inferior to shared second hand ones, this process of advancement is now threatening to relegate language to the background and establish visual knowledge and communication as the new norm.

Recent generations, in developed nations, are characterized by an obvious inability to use language or to think in terms of symbolism and metaphorical expression of concepts. Where computers and television have replaced books as the source of information the technology itself becomes the determiner of how minds think and how information is processed.

Technology determines not only what we think but more so how we think and this has consequences on how we live and what our goals and beliefs are.

Neil postman put it this way in his book ‘Technopoly’: “This is, in short, an ancient and persistent piece of wisdom, perhaps most simply expressed in the old adage that, to a man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail. Without being too literal, we may extend the truism: To a man with a pencil, everything looks like a list. To a man with a camera, everything looks like an image. To a man with a computer, everything looks like data. And to a man with a grade sheet, everything looks like a number.”
He goes on to say “To every Old World belief, habit, or tradition, there was and still is a technological alternative. To prayer, the alternative is penicillin; to family roots, the alternative is mobility; to reading, the alternative is television; to restraint, the alternative is immediate gratification; to sin, the alternative is popular appeal established through scientific polling.”

All hail the dawn of the scientific man, the modern man of algebra and geometry.

From here on all ‘progress’ shall be determined mathematically and through standards of efficiency and amicability, through standards of comparability and popularity.

The dawn of the scientific age is upon us, the age when spirituality and mysticism has been replaced by a new religion, based on the myth of ‘knowability’ and where mental interpretations, based on a priori allegory, are labelled “facts”.

But can science tell us about the intrinsic value of things; can it describe and measure spirit and nobility, can it teach us how to live and why?
No, it can only tell us of the appearance of things and create models of presumed consistency and causality.

No surprise then, than to find that in an age of information overload, knowledge has lost respectability, in an age of wasted resources [in the west in particular] resourcefulness has been demeaned and in an age of overpopulation the value of the individual has lost substance.

Despite the hypocritical rhetoric concerning ‘individual rights’ and ‘Democracy’, what is meant by these terms of placating idealism is the ‘right’ of every individual to follow popular opinions and fall into popular lifestyles. One is allowed to be an individual, just as long as this does not interfere with the harmony of the whole and only as long as this individuality remains comfortably entrenched in mediocrity and mendacity. No extremes are tolerated and no limits explored; all must remain in the middle-ground of acceptable behaviour.

In such times of impoverishment and surrounding barriers to the human spirit, the human mind turns inward for achievement; for what is a warrior without a war to fight in, and what nobler war, is there, than that of man against himself?

In this struggle of man against his nature and the forces that suppress his spirit to the confines of pre-existing dimensions and scientific or religious or social or cultural constructs, what best exemplifies this battle than athletics?

The ancients understood the embellishing affects of athleticism and recognized the symbolism of man striving to overcome man on the field of competition and that is why they worshiped the athlete as a symbol of mans striving towards the breaking of limits and the overcoming of restrictions.

The up and coming Olympics in Athens Greece has, perhaps appropriately, made me reconsider the Olympiad and how it mirrors the social and cultural health of the time and place it is held in.

I think back on recent modern Olympics and how they have been used as tools for consumer manipulation and exploitation and I watch modern day athletes and the sometimes absent sense of tempered pride and humility that is supposed to be the result of athletic and ascetic discipline, and I wonder what has happened to it.

In between shoe endorsements and soft-drink commercials I look for that athletic spirit of the ancient ‘palestras’ and in between doping incidents and multimillion dollar contracts I look for inspiration.
Once in a while I get it from the most unforeseen sources and in unexpected moments such as the one I am about to describe:

I don’t remember in which specific Olympics it was in and I don’t recall the athletes name or country of origin {I believe it must have been one of the Scandinavian ones} but all this is minor detail that bears no real significance on the issue at hand and holds no importance on the essence of my memories of this particular event. I would rather say that the particular details would detract from it and blur its transcending symbolism and value.

What I do remember, of the specifics, is that the athlete in question was female and a participant in the marathon. That is it.

There I was watching the encapsulation of the days Olympic events, mildly bored at having to sit through footage of sporting events that held no interest for me, when the newscast eventually got to the marathon run, it too of little interest to me. The athletes of this particular event after having to run most of their race were then to finish-off by making a final lap around a stadium full of cheering fans. The leaders had already entered and finished and the winners had already been determined but, to my surprise, the coverage did not end there. I’m not sure in what position she entered, it really doesn’t matter, but the memory of her stumbling into the stadium, exhausted and spent, drenched in sweat and with obvious signs of emaciating dehydration, still makes my hairs stand on end.

I sat transfixed by the spectacle and got momentarily lost in the unfolding drama.

She staggers onto the last leg of her run, titter-tottering on the brink of collapse when she stumbles and falls. Officials, coaches and various bystanders on the stadium field rush alongside her, not daring to physically aid her so as to not disqualify her, but urging her onto her feet with their voices, encouraging her with their words, their faces strained with concern and empathy, their hands flailing with nervous tension and I too, from the distance of my T.V. voyeurism, found myself clench-fisted and mesmerized trying to lend my psychic strength to her solitary struggle. In that moment her gender vanished, her national and cultural identity ceased to matter, her race-position and obvious loss became insignificant; she became my athlete, my hero, my representative, my symbol of human struggle; her agony became mine and her torment our shared condition.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched her rise again -bolstered perhaps by the crowds cheers, by the urging or maybe drawing from some inner reserve of will and determination- not to win, not to defeat, not to show-off but to persevere, to just finish what she had started and surpass the limits of her own physical and mental potential.

In that instant she became sublime to me, a majestic emblem of the human condition, of the living condition. Her inability to finish first or in the top five was of secondary importance, she had defeated the only real opponent on that field: herself, and in that act of sheer will and endurance she had overcome her greatest obstacle that day: her own limits.

Who cannot relate to the sight of self-overcoming and struggle?

Even the none-athletic amongst us can share in the marathon trial of endurance, for what is life but a long distance run in the dark.

It often drains our energies and leaves us trembling on the tarmac surrounded by cheering and often jeering and mocking audiences.
There are no winners or losers here, no final victor, no olive wreath for the Olympians head, just the honour that comes from pushing ones own limits to their furthest boundaries and the dignity of knowing that we finished, maybe not first, maybe not second, but we finished; spent battered and depleted we crossed the line and remained true to our selves.

Isn’t that the true spirit of the Olympic Games; to teach us our own limits and, in doing so, to prove our worth and to stretch our potential to its furthest point?

For me that athlete, that day, even if not knowing her name, stands as a symbol of humanity and blazes in the glory of the Olympic flame.
Her anonymity, her lack of fame, her inability to stand upon the highest step and accept the medal means nothing to me; she became my inspiration that day and she remains, to this day, the epitome of the Olympic spirit, in my eyes….forever.

A Tentative Defence of Monogamy

I would be the last to deny the promiscuous nature of man.
It is evident that many of the failings of modern-day coupling and marriage is due to the fact that it is imposed upon an instinctive beast that has little ability to control self through the intellect and must be coerced, threatened or rewarded and/or indoctrinated into a moral dogma in order to remain disciplined and moderate.

Common man, governed by a need that emerges in times of indigence, has carried this superfluity like a camel carries its hump into a luscious rainforest. This doctrine of excess, which forces out behaviours of gluttony, is an expression of undiscriminating tastes and subdued palates that are more interested in quantity than quality.

The practice of suppressing sexual drives, that sometimes threaten social order and harmony, has been a deciding factor in the emergence of civilizations and complex human economic and cultural structures. It enables the full participation of males/females in the system and the full investment of these males/females in the system itself that turns them from rebellious vagabonds or indifferent observers into defenders and guardians of the norm.

This imposition of monogamy on a polygamous species has been successful, or relatively so, mostly through the utilization of institutional authority and the restriction of female sexual choices. But I am going to defend and describe a spontaneously emerging form of monogamy that is not a product of moral and cultural force or paternalistic social order but more a product of refined tastes and noble predispositions.

It would be remiss of me to neglect to state that the creation of distinction and refinement could only happen, ironically, in times of superfluity and in ages of abundance, for in times of poverty all, by necessity, become ascetics and minimalists and it is leisure that often results in heightened awareness and wisdom.

This spiritual refinement that is shaped by hypersensitivity and an overabundance of inner strength leads to a discriminating palate and a pickiness that should not be misconstrued for snobbery or pretentiousness; this discriminating taste that leads to some form of monogamy should not also be misjudged as another instance of the common form of monogamy that is more a result of moral imperatives, hypocrisy and socio-economic pressures as well as cultural conformity than anything else.

Since metaphor and allegory are the best ways to become precise while still remaining discreet and indirect I begin by encapsulating my perspective of this more noble form of monogamy with symbolism:
Let us then take wine as a substitute for mating, since it is an unnecessary aspect of individual survival, as sex is, while still retaining the attraction and sweetness associated with coupling.

The common man, with his unsophisticated tastes, gluttony-sometimes reaching the proportions of alcoholism-and insensitive tongue, may find that all wines are the same or similar enough to not make great differentiations, and all that really is at stake here, for him, is access and availability. In other words, the average man wants wine on his table-if it is his preferred beverage- as a sign of affluence or happiness or conformity and its quality, its distinctive bouquet, the year and the region it was harvested in, is of no or little importance to him. For him the experience of wine drinking is merely encompassed in the general sensation of swallowing and tasting its broad and obvious aroma and in the inevitable high-spirits it inevitably results in. Any bottle will do, within reason, from any time and from any place, and large quantities of it are preferred so that his greedy needs are met, his belly and ego are engorged and his needs momentarily placated.

But for a refined palate, one that can discern nuance and subtlety, not all wines are created equal. His discriminating tastes are not a consequence of pretentious snobbery and feigned aristocracy but a result of an oversensitive taste-bud and a hypersensitive nose. He cannot ignore, no matter how much he may try, the faint fragrances, the quiet bouquets, the textures, the aftertastes or the colorations of each Olympian nectar; for him the wines history, its symbolism and art are just as relevant as its simple drinking. He may drink an inferior fermented grape, from time to time so as to not insult a host or as to not make an unwarranted fuss, but given a choice he will prefer abstinence from indulging in pigswill and fire-water. The refined palate, therefore, will choose asceticism rather than to debase and degrade one self by settling for inferior products and individuals just to quell an inner instinctive need or desire. He will see any submission to his hunger and thirst, which often demand compromises of great proportion, as a defeat, as an insult to self and a loss of dignity that is often felt in hindsight.

We must keep in mind again that this refined taste is not an act of conceit but a product of awareness. It stems from this extreme sensual perceptiveness [hypersensitivity] that is inescapable, as no man can blind himself to what he sees or ignore for long what he hears, and it also stems from a deeper appreciation of emotions and of self. It is an appearance of pride we call nobility.

What a common man calls ‘love’, ‘compassion’, ‘loyalty’, ‘responsibility’, ‘commitment’ and ‘empathy’ pales in comparison to what a noble mind understands them to be.

If we are to understand hypersensitivity or awareness or refinement we must here use, once more, some figurative symbolism.

Two men walk into a room in which a party is going on. The first is a common, average man for whom the scene is a joyful one, full of smiling faces, mirth, clinking glasses, the din of happy conversation, the smells of food, all engulfed in a kaleidoscope of pleasant background music and dazzling lights.

The second, “suffering” from hypersensitivity, perceives a totally different scene. He sees what the first man sees but also so much more. He sees a momentary frown, a glance, a stolen kiss, a discreet touch, a smirk; he hears a sarcastic giggle, a stomach churning, a door slam; he smells perfume, cologne and sweat; he knows who’s had a little too much to drink, who is walking with a limp, who’s talking with whom, who wore mismatched socks today, who just hit on someone’s wife and so on.
It is possible for two individuals to experience the same thing but perceive it on different levels, levels of lucidity if you will.

It is this lucidity that gives reality, life and emotions more substance for the noble man. His love is more precious to him and not something he gives out lightly, his compassion is more profound, his loyalty more true, his friendship more deep and weighted down with meaning and not mere words he flings around to appear civilized and moral or to ensure another’s respect.

This noble man of refined tastes takes responsibility seriously and that’s why he enters it so rarely, he takes commitment more austerely and that is why he rarely commits. For him love/hate, loyalty/betrayal, compassion/cruelty, mean so much more than for the common man that enters relationships of enmity or cooperation blindly and full of insincere innocence, delusional confidence and naïve hope derived from an absence of awareness or an inability to self-discipline.

That’s why Christianity and Democracy, or any ideology that institutionalizes emotions and behaviours, is an anathema to him. Compassion and love are precious things to a noble mind; precious things beyond measure that are offered only to the worthy and to those that have earned his trust and loyalty and that is why his emotions are so much more weighty and meaningful and not just words that lead to ephemeral commitments of need.

Common love relationships often begin with an attraction based on superficial criteria.

A man may just be attracted to a woman’s ass, to her full bosom or wavy hair, a woman to a tall, dark and handsome man or a rich man or a man of status and so soon reality will disenchant them from their fantasies about how things could be or should be.

Sometimes shallow relationships are a product of physical needs and social imperatives that force two people into each others spaces for better or for worst, often the second more than the first. Shallow choices lead to shallow lives where often the sense of something missing is felt and one blames the other or conditions but rarely ones judgment, original choices and criteria of evaluation. So errors are repeated, over and over and over again.

In comparison noble love relationships are more difficult to find and so much more valuable.

It is difficult enough to nourish nobility and remain noble at all in such a world of superficiality and vulgar narrowness, it is rare that the right genetic and environmental circumstances will arise in an individual at all and that the right balance of strength and consciousness will coincide in a single entity, so two noble spirits finding each other is a rare thing indeed, especially when one considers their solitary and shy nature.

This is what makes them precious and an exemplification of idealistic romantic love.

Their rarity and value is due to the fact that they are based on more than just mere lust but exhibit a spiritual interconnectedness where two people become united in more than a physical way, although the physical is always the first connection. Here the mind takes precedence and decides when to suppress or express desire and need, when to expose or hide vulnerability and strength, when to love, commit and remain loyal because only it can comprehend the full breadth and depth of the issues involved.

This nobility of spirit, this refinement of taste forces the individual endowed with it, into some uncomfortable choices: Either find solace in solitude and asceticism through the denial of instinct, as many sages have done, so that no compromises are made and no loss of self worth ensues or search and wait for that single one, that diamond in the dirt that lives up to heightened standards and meets reality eye-to-eye, that gives as much as it takes and understands the entirety of what commitment, loyalty, trust, compassion and finally love entails.

Only nobility can truly love whereas a common man merely lusts and covets.

I wander about in the jungles of perception looking for things I do not know yet, seeking for things I need but am not aware of, hunting for prey to feed my want for self.

I gather experiences in my travels and use my intellect to gain some control over my uncontrollable existence and a focus for my searching mind.

I crave knowledge because only this gives me the power to maintain some degree of contentment in a universe abhorring the stagnation this may lead to and forever pitted against its finality.

There is nothing I own but my ephemeral thoughts; one replacing the other in a constant flow of consciousness building as a river fed through tiny streams.

This river I attempt to harness and guide so that I become master of my own being and not a simple puppet dancing to a gaudy tune played by others.

All I posses is on loan and will be given back one day, so it is not to be valued beyond its temporary contribution to my desires. Even the constant thoughts- I call me – will be lost in time unless I pass them on to others and feed them into other rivers that will in turn be fed into still other rivers.

Hopefully there will be an ocean to finally wash into somewhere down the line so that all this pain and suffering, this struggle can have purpose.
There is no truth I hold in absolute certainty; I am too weak and feeble, too easily impressed and horrified, too ignorant and temporal to have the clarity of logic required to achieve absoluteness. Yet to strive towards it is all I can do with my precious and limited time, for it is the only thing that offers any transcending meaning to my life.

My only pride is gained through being more aware than the other, more wise, more reasonable than my brothers and sisters, but even this is based on a preprogrammed instinct I fight to overcome.

I refuse to give into emotion, both positive and negative, because one cannot separate the two. If one wants to be unaffected by insult one must also give up the superficial pleasures of flattery.

I refuse to give into ego and become ensnared in my own mind. Ego is only the flame that drives me and like all flames it can burn me if embraced completely.

I refuse to be indoctrinated into social, economic, cultural and religious dogmas that attempt to harness my spirit for their own benefits.
I will play the game open-eyed and knowing.

I refuse to be a slave to a larger whole and a blind follower of false ideals.
This may offer a shallow happiness to the ignorant and comfort to the clever but both are prisoners to the system.

I call no man master and ask to be the master of none but myself.
Companions are welcomed just as long as they do not strive to control or dominate me or to raise barriers before my goals.

I will use the stupidity of others to accomplish some happiness and experience some pleasure in an existence I neither chose nor built. But I will not judge myself or find pride in doing so. To dominate dogs and beasts is easy and to value yourself for doing so is to belittle your own persona. To become alpha male or female may be considered an achievement by some but to revel in the accomplishment is to become one with those you dominate; to find meaning in bestial pursuits of procreation and survival is to equate yourself with a common animal.
(Is a queen ant something to be emulated and worshiped? Should we admire a wolf pack leader?)

To dominate yourself and control your existence is the only thing worth striving for because only this can lead to true power and contentment.
“Man is to be overcome” Nietzsche said and I can think of no other more worthwhile endeavor.

I seek to overcome the only man I truly know: myself.
I am the wanderer.

My first thought after reading this single passage: How far does the influence of the core reptilian motivation extend? Does the mammalian brain always merely generate secondary justifications for the executive decisions of the reptilian brain?

Does an awareness of the reptilian brain immunize us from its effects? I would doubt that very much. Then it looks like a question of how much resistance to the influence of the reptilian brain can we develop?

xanderman

That is an important question.
But I also think that, no matter how extensive this influence is, what is more important is to recognize that there is an influence.

The resistance is an individual characteristic, enhanced or degraded through environment.