“Human life must be some kind of mistake. The truth of this will be sufficiently obvious if we only remember that man is a compound of needs and necessities hard to satisfy; and that even when they are satisfied, all he obtains is a state of painlessness, where nothing remains to him but abandonment to boredom. This is direct proof that existence has no real value in itself; for what is boredom but the feeling of the emptiness of life? If life—the craving for which is the very essence of our being—were possessed of any positive intrinsic value, there would be no such thing as boredom at all: mere existence would satisfy us in itself, and we should want for nothing.”
- Arthur Schopenhauer, Studies in Pessimism
fuck I should just sell some of my Pokemon cards, if no one stakes that is what I will have to do - lostaccount
"How does one choose what is worth doing in life?"
There is obviously no easy answer to this. People have been trying to figure this out for eternity. The more I read and think about it the more it is such a personal thing as well. Even a guy like Plato or Kant or Levin from "Anna Karenina", who it still boggles my mind how they came to such awesome conclusions on how to live life, it is still very personal to them and in many ways can only work for them. All we can do is attempt to harness that brilliantly shining light in relation to our own lives.
“Human life must be some kind of mistake. The truth of this will be sufficiently obvious if we only remember that man is a compound of needs and necessities hard to satisfy; and that even when they are satisfied, all he obtains is a state of painlessness, where nothing remains to him but abandonment to boredom. This is direct proof that existence has no real value in itself; for what is boredom but the feeling of the emptiness of life? If life—the craving for which is the very essence of our being—were possessed of any positive intrinsic value, there would be no such thing as boredom at all: mere existence would satisfy us in itself, and we should want for nothing.”
This is brilliant. To this day I still have no idea how to define pessimism, optimism, realism. Many times I have the feeling that happiness is mans' natural disposition but then I read quotes like this and second guess that feeling. At the same time, if one just changes some of the words and language in that quote a case could be made for "Human life must be some kind of miracle..." with it still remaining rational and compelling.
To help answer some of these questions I will go to the great Dave Chappelle. In a recent magazine interview he was asked:
Are you happy?
Dave Chappelle: "Right now in L.A. with the sun shining on me? Talking about GQ Men of the Year? Yeah! I'm happy. It's a good day. It's a very good day. You know, I have angst in my life, but I'm like anybody. We all have angst in our lives that we pick up and fidget with and then we put down and look at some other things that makes us feel good or enjoy our lives. Today I'm happy, yeah. Some days I am not happy, but I'm not necessarily sad. What I'm trying to say is that if anything like Robin Williams ever happened to me, suspect foul play. *"
*Since the emoji gods have yet to create a symbol for "shit-eating grin that an especially troublemaking 8-year-old you can't help but love anyway would make," we are using an asterisk to indicate when it happens.
I would assume most people can relate to this quote. I really like his phrase "fidget with angst." I think a lot of times when people are writing they are fidgeting with angst. Schopenhauer's quote strikes me as someone definitely in a time of fidgeting with some angst. He may relate to "then we put down the angst and look at some other things that makes us feel good or enjoy our lives" or maybe he does not and just sits brooding until he can fidget some more on an endless loop. From what I have observed there is definitely a difference in tolerance or ability to put away the angst. There is definitely a difference in ability to have any sort of "control" over angst and chaos or maybe more so the ability to snap into a trance of hope and transcendence and rationalization and denial. One fidgets a bit too much with some strong angst and chaos and allows it to speed up and continue speeding up to an unmanageable level is where the Robin Williams stories come in. That is what I am fidgeting with in the current moment though. Human beings have an exceptional ability to rationalize and deny. It almost seems like the "happiest" human beings find the right iv drip of healthy rationalization and denial. In many regards, healthy rationalization and denial is synonymous with "Hope." I will go back to this quote I love:
"(one lost everything in the death camps except) the last of the human freedoms, to choose ones' attitude in any given set of circumstances" - Viktor Frankl (death camp survivor and psychologist).
It would be fascinating to me to know what Schopenhauer was like at a dinner party of loved ones and loyal, trusted, uplifting friends? It is one thing to be in isolation fidgeting with ones deepest anxieties and another to be in a positive, uplifting collective of tribemates. Which leads me back to "what is worth doing in life?"
Getting a solid dose of vitamin Love each day has got to be up there. Being a part of some occupations larger than ones' self. Filling ones' belly and the belly of loved ones is super important and necessity but there is a way of going about it in a truthful, beautiful, good way. That is still something I struggle with. 30 years of ubiquitous assimilation in the "United States of America" can really fuck with a human being's wants vs needs. I also believe that there is an inherent "Will for Power" on differing levels in all human beings. I like power. I like status. I like being liked. I like getting attention from people I like getting attention from. I like the maitre d recognizing me at restaurants I like and giving me preferred service I like so I can more easily enjoy the good food I like to eat. I like cashmere. I like well crafted boots. I like warm, comfortable well tailored coats. I like Paris. I like the beach...
I am not entirely sure where that was going. It just goes to show that I still struggle with it. There are luxuries that I enjoy that enrich my life that are not a necessity to survival. I would love to have a supercar to escape and lose myself in racing it around the track or the country. I would love to have an intelligent supermodel date to share some dinner and conversation leading to amazing, speak portuguese, blackout, transcend time and space sex with. Are these things realistic? It comes back to what makes you happy? What is enough?
What makes you happy? What is enough?
Testosterone, health and well being is up there. Exercise. A personalized mix of gymnastic and art. I know a lot of people expound a lift big, fuck bitches, YOLO philosophy. If it works for you great. Being a little older, it feels like the marketers and the capitalists are pulling the strings a bit with that one but that could just be me. Regardless, the gym is yet another positive collective of people working towards similar goals. The football pitch. The basketball court.
One random thing I actually found works for me is a bucket list. Writing some things down makes it more real. Makes it exist in this universe. I am convinced some dosage of novelty and experience is part of a healthy regiment. Sometimes I find myself getting carried away though and then it is back to just letting it be or fidgeting with angst or whatever.
Whatever.
Peace. Love. Au revoir.
Last edit: 20/12/2014 11:42
0
Gnarly United States. Dec 20 2014 14:51. Posts 1723
On December 20 2014 10:37 RiKD wrote:
"How does one choose what is worth doing in life?"
There is obviously no easy answer to this. People have been trying to figure this out for eternity. The more I read and think about it the more it is such a personal thing as well. Even a guy like Plato or Kant or Levin from "Anna Karenina", who it still boggles my mind how they came to such awesome conclusions on how to live life, it is still very personal to them and in many ways can only work for them. All we can do is attempt to harness that brilliantly shining light in relation to our own lives.
“Human life must be some kind of mistake. The truth of this will be sufficiently obvious if we only remember that man is a compound of needs and necessities hard to satisfy; and that even when they are satisfied, all he obtains is a state of painlessness, where nothing remains to him but abandonment to boredom. This is direct proof that existence has no real value in itself; for what is boredom but the feeling of the emptiness of life? If life—the craving for which is the very essence of our being—were possessed of any positive intrinsic value, there would be no such thing as boredom at all: mere existence would satisfy us in itself, and we should want for nothing.”
This is brilliant. To this day I still have no idea how to define pessimism, optimism, realism. Many times I have the feeling that happiness is mans' natural disposition but then I read quotes like this and second guess that feeling. At the same time, if one just changes some of the words and language in that quote a case could be made for "Human life must be some kind of miracle..." with it still remaining rational and compelling.
To help answer some of these questions I will go to the great Dave Chappelle. In a recent magazine interview he was asked:
Are you happy?
Dave Chappelle: "Right now in L.A. with the sun shining on me? Talking about GQ Men of the Year? Yeah! I'm happy. It's a good day. It's a very good day. You know, I have angst in my life, but I'm like anybody. We all have angst in our lives that we pick up and fidget with and then we put down and look at some other things that makes us feel good or enjoy our lives. Today I'm happy, yeah. Some days I am not happy, but I'm not necessarily sad. What I'm trying to say is that if anything like Robin Williams ever happened to me, suspect foul play. *"
*Since the emoji gods have yet to create a symbol for "shit-eating grin that an especially troublemaking 8-year-old you can't help but love anyway would make," we are using an asterisk to indicate when it happens.
I would assume most people can relate to this quote. I really like his phrase "fidget with angst." I think a lot of times when people are writing they are fidgeting with angst. Schopenhauer's quote strikes me as someone definitely in a time of fidgeting with some angst. He may relate to "then we put down the angst and look at some other things that makes us feel good or enjoy our lives" or maybe he does not and just sits brooding until he can fidget some more on an endless loop. From what I have observed there is definitely a difference in tolerance or ability to put away the angst. There is definitely a difference in ability to have any sort of "control" over angst and chaos or maybe more so the ability to snap into a trance of hope and transcendence and rationalization and denial. One fidgets a bit too much with some strong angst and chaos and allows it to speed up and continue speeding up to an unmanageable level is where the Robin Williams stories come in. That is what I am fidgeting with in the current moment though. Human beings have an exceptional ability to rationalize and deny. It almost seems like the "happiest" human beings find the right iv drip of healthy rationalization and denial. In many regards, healthy rationalization and denial is synonymous with "Hope." I will go back to this quote I love:
"(one lost everything in the death camps except) the last of the human freedoms, to choose ones' attitude in any given set of circumstances" - Viktor Frankl (death camp survivor and psychologist).
It would be fascinating to me to know what Schopenhauer was like at a dinner party of loved ones and loyal, trusted, uplifting friends? It is one thing to be in isolation fidgeting with ones deepest anxieties and another to be in a positive, uplifting collective of tribemates. Which leads me back to "what is worth doing in life?"
Getting a solid dose of vitamin Love each day has got to be up there. Being a part of some occupations larger than ones' self. Filling ones' belly and the belly of loved ones is super important and necessity but there is a way of going about it in a truthful, beautiful, good way. That is still something I struggle with. 30 years of ubiquitous assimilation in the "United States of America" can really fuck with a human being's wants vs needs. I also believe that there is an inherent "Will for Power" on differing levels in all human beings. I like power. I like status. I like being liked. I like getting attention from people I like getting attention from. I like the maitre d recognizing me at restaurants I like and giving me preferred service I like so I can more easily enjoy the good food I like to eat. I like cashmere. I like well crafted boots. I like warm, comfortable well tailored coats. I like Paris. I like the beach...
I am not entirely sure where that was going. It just goes to show that I still struggle with it. There are luxuries that I enjoy that enrich my life that are not a necessity to survival. I would love to have a supercar to escape and lose myself in racing it around the track or the country. I would love to have an intelligent supermodel date to share some dinner and conversation leading to amazing, speak portuguese, blackout, transcend time and space sex with. Are these things realistic? It comes back to what makes you happy? What is enough?
What makes you happy? What is enough?
Testosterone, health and well being is up there. Exercise. A personalized mix of gymnastic and art. I know a lot of people expound a lift big, fuck bitches, YOLO philosophy. If it works for you great. Being a little older, it feels like the marketers and the capitalists are pulling the strings a bit with that one but that could just be me. Regardless, the gym is yet another positive collective of people working towards similar goals. The football pitch. The basketball court.
One random thing I actually found works for me is a bucket list. Writing some things down makes it more real. Makes it exist in this universe. I am convinced some dosage of novelty and experience is part of a healthy regiment. Sometimes I find myself getting carried away though and then it is back to just letting it be or fidgeting with angst or whatever.
Whatever.
Peace. Love. Au revoir.
>tl;dr
Diversify or fossilize!
1
Santafairy Korea (South). Dec 20 2014 16:03. Posts 2225
you can't just choose what you want to do
it is the same as moronsnoobs who say something like "I want to start playing starcraft. I think I'd like to play x styles my personality is y and I want to learn to z. what race should I play?" does that sound like someone who's ever going to be good at or even have fun at starcraft? this is the wrong way to think you have to install the game first and try things and figure shit out
when someone asks questions like what should I do, how do I do something, what's the secret to something, it's the mindset of someone who is water sitting in a cup. just sitting in a cup not being drunk by anyone not flowing anywhere just slowly evaporating into nothing. in reality if you want to do anything you have to get out of the cup you have to pour the water on the ground and look at all the little channels of water it makes that look random and go in all different directions and as you watch the water flow it all eventually comes to a rest except one line of water which will be really long and it will keep flowing just getting thinner and thinner and going further out from where you originally poured the cup out looking like it will never really stop flowing just going a little bit more and more and that's what you should do with your life.
it is a continuous process that never ends and when you've understood this you know how to proceed in life. every day is feedback between what you are doing and what you want to do and should do next. they're not independent things. you have to do stuff period and over time you will be able to fill your day with things you want to do. and most things that are worth doing you have to do routinely at some level so as you get better you will be able to wake up every day with awesome stuff to do, and also some shit that you don't want to do which will always be there because that's how life works you can't approach life as the goal being to never do anything you don't want to do because you'll never get there
yes it's repetitive but have some perspective it's only maybe 700k hours or 40 million minutes at best including the unusuable shit like sleeping and infancy and oldman shit that barely even counts. i mean there are people with more US dollars than minutes in their life. also it is repetitive regardless of what you do. if you only wallowed alone as a hermit in a cave until you died it would be just as repetitive as if you worked at supermodel boning, inc and had to wake up every day and fuck elle macpherson from 9 to 5 (or seriously the best most virtuous life you can think of that follows every word in nicomachean ethics or whatever it's all going to be a repetitive life)
in fact all goal oriented thinking is wrong, goals are largely not real and when they are real they are almost always meaningless. i mean think about any goal people might have. for example say i have a goal to get this great job. okay that's great but you forgot the part where you have to actually go to the job for 10 years are you ready to do that. or say i have a goal to buy a house. okay then i have to live in it for 15 years or more what's next? was it a house or a coffin am i just going to die in it. i have a goal to marry the perfect girl. okay then you have to actually wake up every day next to her and have a relationship did you understand that part. i have a goal to learn how to play the violin. How can you possibly satisfy that goal? Dec. 21 2014 I now Know How To Play The Violin(tm) next goal please. I have a goal to learn Chinese. okay now I know Chinese. wait what word is this? this mindset does not reflect reality and i believe it's not healthy. anyway i probably autismed enough for now
It seems to be not very profitable in the long run to play those kind of hands. - Gus Hansen
"It would be fascinating to me to know what Schopenhauer was like at a dinner party of loved ones and loyal, trusted, uplifting friends? It is one thing to be in isolation fidgeting with ones deepest anxieties and another to be in a positive, uplifting collective of tribemates."
Schopenhauer didn't think much of anyone, the only friend he had and admired was Goethe. Many notable people admired him, like Wagner, but it wasn't reciprocated. A lot of that had to do with his intellectual milieu, him being misunderstood, and how much attention was paid to Hegel rather than him. He used to pay for two seats at the place he ate every day just to be sure no one would sit next to him and try to engage in discussion with him. On the other hand, he wasn't as grouchy as many people think that he was. He had a great sense of humor. Anyone who has read him will have laughed a lot. Many also say that his writings are uplifting. Cioran said, "The more I read the pessimists, the more I love life. After reading Schopenhauer, I always feel like a bridegroom on his wedding night." Cioran was a lot gloomier than Schopenhauer in his writings, but he was very social and he was known to be the life of the party, as well as someone you could count on in times of hardship. Similarly, Samuel Beckett was pleasant and compassionate but also the opposite of Cioran in that he was very quiet and timid.
One more for you specifically since I know you like Tolstoy.
“There is an old Eastern fable about a traveler who is taken unawares on the steppes by a ferocious wild animal. In order to escape the beast the traveler hides in an empty well, but at the bottom of the well he sees a dragon with its jaws open, ready to devour him. The poor fellow does not dare to climb out because he is afraid of being eaten by the rapacious beast, neither does he dare drop to the bottom of the well for fear of being eaten by the dragon. So he seizes hold of a branch of a bush that is growing in the crevices of the well and clings on to it. His arms grow weak and he knows that he will soon have to resign himself to the death that awaits him on either side. Yet he still clings on, and while he is holding on to the branch he looks around and sees that two mice, one black and one white, are steadily working their way round the bush he is hanging from, gnawing away at it. Sooner or later they will eat through it and the branch will snap, and he will fall into the jaws of the dragon. The traveler sees this and knows that he will inevitably perish. But while he is still hanging there he sees some drops of honey on the leaves of the bush, stretches out his tongue and licks them. In the same way I am clinging to the tree of life, knowing full well that the dragon of death inevitably awaits me, ready to tear me to pieces, and I cannot understand how I have fallen into this torment. And I try licking the honey that once consoled me, but it no longer gives me pleasure. The white mouse and the black mouse – day and night – are gnawing at the branch from which I am hanging. I can see the dragon clearly and the honey no longer tastes sweet. I can see only one thing; the inescapable dragon and the mice, and I cannot tear my eyes away from them. And this is no fable but the truth, the truth that is irrefutable and intelligible to everyone.
The delusion of the joys of life that had formerly stifled my fear of the dragon no longer deceived me. No matter how many times I am told: you cannot understand the meaning of life, do not thinking about it but live, I cannot do so because I have already done it for too long. Now I cannot help seeing day and night chasing me and leading me to my death. This is all I can see because it is the only truth. All the rest is a lie.
Those two drops of honey, which more than all else had diverted my eyes from the cruel truth, my love for my family and for my writing, which I called art – I no longer found sweet.”
- Leo Tolstoy, A Confession
All I ever see is people telling other people that they should try their honey. That's as far as their analysis go: they compare honeys. I think that even if we were to grant that the honey makes life intrinsically worthwhile, this doesn't make a great case for life, because there are some beings for whom the honey is unreachable or it's no longer sweet. They are deprived of it. Anxiety, pain or boredom are revealed and shown to be infinitely more real, which says something about life itself which is always ignored and shouldn't be ignored. And in the same way that we can't take someone's opinion very seriously when they say they feel great because they are really drunk and we know that the next morning will be hell for them, we can't take the life-affirmer's word because he has yet to have experienced the whole range of experiences that life has to offer, the inevitable decline in store for him and everyone, the painful ending for many but a lucky few who might go during their sleep. A couple more by Becker.
“Modern man is drinking and drugging himself out of awareness, or he spends his time shopping, which is the same thing. As awareness calls for types of heroic dedication that his culture no longer provides for him, society contrives to help him forget. In the mysterious way in which life is given to us in evolution on this planet, it pushes in the direction of its own expansion. We don’t understand it simply because we don’t know the purpose of creation; we only feel life straining in ourselves and see it thrashing others about as they devour each other. Life seeks to expand in an unknown direction for unknown reasons.
What are we to make of creation in which routine activity is for organisms to be tearing others apart with teeth of all types - biting, grinding flesh, plant stalks, bones between molars, pushing the pulp greedily down the gullet with delight, incorporating its essence into one’s own organization, and then excreting with foul stench and gasses residue. Everyone reaching out to incorporate others who are edible to him. The mosquitoes bloating themselves on blood, the maggots, the killer-bees attacking with a fury and a demonism, sharks continuing to tear and swallow while their own innards are being torn out - not to mention the daily dismemberment and slaughter in “natural” accidents of all types: an earthquake buries alive 70 thousand bodies in Peru, a tidal wave washes over a quarter of a million in the Indian Ocean. Creation is a nightmare spectacular taking place on a planet that has been soaked for hundreds of millions of years in the blood of all creatures. The soberest conclusion that we could make about what has actually been taking place on the planet about three billion years is that it is being turned into a vast pit of fertilizer. But the sun distracts our attention, always baking the blood dry, making things grow over it, and with its warmth giving the hope that comes with the organism’s comfort and expansiveness.”
- Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death
“Man is an animal…Whatever else he is, is built on this…The only certain thing we know about this planet is that it is a theater for crawling life, organismic life, and at least we know what organisms are and what they are trying to do.
At its most elemental level the human organism, like crawling life, has a mouth, digestive tract, and anus, a skin to keep it intact, and appendages with which to acquire food. Existence, for all organismic life, is a constant struggle to feed – a struggle to incorporate whatever other organisms that can fit into their mouths and press down their gullets without choking. Seen in these stark terms, life in this planet is a gory spectacle, a science-fiction nightmare in which digestive tracts fitted with teeth at one end are tearing away at whatever flesh they can reach, and at the other end are piling up the fuming waste excrement as they move along in search of more flesh. I think this is why the epoch of the dinosaurs exerts such a strong fascination on us: it is an epic food orgy with king-size actors who convey unmistakably what organisms are dedicated to. Sensitive souls have reacted with shock to the elemental drama of life on this planet, and one of the reasons Darwin so shocked his time – and still bothers ours – is that he showed this bone-crushing, blood-drinking drama in all of its elementality and necessity: Life cannot go on without the mutual devouring of organisms. If the living spectacle of all that he had organismically incorporated in order to stay alive, he might well feel horrified by the living energy he had ingested. The horizon of a gourmet, or even the average person, would be taken up with hundreds of chickens, flocks of lambs and sheep, a small herd of steers, sties full of pigs, and rivers of fish. The din alone would be deafening. To paraphrase Elias Canetti, each organism raises it’s head over a field of corpses, smiles into the sun, and declares life good.”
- Ernest Becker, Escape from Evil
fuck I should just sell some of my Pokemon cards, if no one stakes that is what I will have to do - lostaccount
Last edit: 20/12/2014 23:31
1
Minsk United States. Dec 20 2014 22:48. Posts 1558
There is a universal answer. Unfortunately I'm not able to teach it even if I wanted to.
Last edit: 20/12/2014 22:50
1
MyAnacondaDont United States. Dec 20 2014 23:39. Posts 164
Im thinking of getting a motor scooter that handicap people use instead of walking even though I can walk just fine, cause I just think its a superior form of transportation and would make me happier.
“I never did give them hell. I just told the truth, and they thought it was hell.”
On December 20 2014 21:09 Loco wrote:
"It would be fascinating to me to know what Schopenhauer was like at a dinner party of loved ones and loyal, trusted, uplifting friends? It is one thing to be in isolation fidgeting with ones deepest anxieties and another to be in a positive, uplifting collective of tribemates."
Schopenhauer didn't think much of anyone, the only friend he had and admired was Goethe. Many notable people admired him, like Wagner, but it wasn't reciprocated. A lot of that had to do with his intellectual milieu, him being misunderstood, and how much attention was paid to Hegel rather than him. He used to pay for two seats at the place he ate every day just to be sure no one would sit next to him and try to engage in discussion with him. On the other hand, he wasn't as grouchy as many people think that he was. He had a great sense of humor. Anyone who has read him will have laughed a lot. Many also say that his writings are uplifting. Cioran said, "The more I read the pessimists, the more I love life. After reading Schopenhauer, I always feel like a bridegroom on his wedding night." Cioran was a lot gloomier than Schopenhauer in his writings, but he was very social and he was known to be the life of the party, as well as someone you could count on in times of hardship. Similarly, Samuel Beckett was pleasant and compassionate but also the opposite of Cioran in that he was very quiet and timid.
One more for you specifically since I know you like Tolstoy.
“There is an old Eastern fable about a traveler who is taken unawares on the steppes by a ferocious wild animal. In order to escape the beast the traveler hides in an empty well, but at the bottom of the well he sees a dragon with its jaws open, ready to devour him. The poor fellow does not dare to climb out because he is afraid of being eaten by the rapacious beast, neither does he dare drop to the bottom of the well for fear of being eaten by the dragon. So he seizes hold of a branch of a bush that is growing in the crevices of the well and clings on to it. His arms grow weak and he knows that he will soon have to resign himself to the death that awaits him on either side. Yet he still clings on, and while he is holding on to the branch he looks around and sees that two mice, one black and one white, are steadily working their way round the bush he is hanging from, gnawing away at it. Sooner or later they will eat through it and the branch will snap, and he will fall into the jaws of the dragon. The traveler sees this and knows that he will inevitably perish. But while he is still hanging there he sees some drops of honey on the leaves of the bush, stretches out his tongue and licks them. In the same way I am clinging to the tree of life, knowing full well that the dragon of death inevitably awaits me, ready to tear me to pieces, and I cannot understand how I have fallen into this torment. And I try licking the honey that once consoled me, but it no longer gives me pleasure. The white mouse and the black mouse – day and night – are gnawing at the branch from which I am hanging. I can see the dragon clearly and the honey no longer tastes sweet. I can see only one thing; the inescapable dragon and the mice, and I cannot tear my eyes away from them. And this is no fable but the truth, the truth that is irrefutable and intelligible to everyone.
The delusion of the joys of life that had formerly stifled my fear of the dragon no longer deceived me. No matter how many times I am told: you cannot understand the meaning of life, do not thinking about it but live, I cannot do so because I have already done it for too long. Now I cannot help seeing day and night chasing me and leading me to my death. This is all I can see because it is the only truth. All the rest is a lie.
Those two drops of honey, which more than all else had diverted my eyes from the cruel truth, my love for my family and for my writing, which I called art – I no longer found sweet.”
- Leo Tolstoy, A Confession
All I ever see is people telling other people that they should try their honey. That's as far as their analysis go: they compare honeys. I think that even if we were to grant that the honey makes life intrinsically worthwhile, this doesn't make a great case for life, because there are some beings for whom the honey is unreachable or it's no longer sweet. They are deprived of it. Anxiety, pain or boredom are revealed and shown to be infinitely more real, which says something about life itself which is always ignored and shouldn't be ignored. And in the same way that we can't take someone's opinion very seriously when they say they feel great because they are really drunk and we know that the next morning will be hell for them, we can't take the life-affirmer's word because he has yet to have experienced the whole range of experiences that life has to offer, the inevitable decline in store for him and everyone, the painful ending for many but a lucky few who might go during their sleep. A couple more by Becker.
“Modern man is drinking and drugging himself out of awareness, or he spends his time shopping, which is the same thing. As awareness calls for types of heroic dedication that his culture no longer provides for him, society contrives to help him forget. In the mysterious way in which life is given to us in evolution on this planet, it pushes in the direction of its own expansion. We don’t understand it simply because we don’t know the purpose of creation; we only feel life straining in ourselves and see it thrashing others about as they devour each other. Life seeks to expand in an unknown direction for unknown reasons.
What are we to make of creation in which routine activity is for organisms to be tearing others apart with teeth of all types - biting, grinding flesh, plant stalks, bones between molars, pushing the pulp greedily down the gullet with delight, incorporating its essence into one’s own organization, and then excreting with foul stench and gasses residue. Everyone reaching out to incorporate others who are edible to him. The mosquitoes bloating themselves on blood, the maggots, the killer-bees attacking with a fury and a demonism, sharks continuing to tear and swallow while their own innards are being torn out - not to mention the daily dismemberment and slaughter in “natural” accidents of all types: an earthquake buries alive 70 thousand bodies in Peru, a tidal wave washes over a quarter of a million in the Indian Ocean. Creation is a nightmare spectacular taking place on a planet that has been soaked for hundreds of millions of years in the blood of all creatures. The soberest conclusion that we could make about what has actually been taking place on the planet about three billion years is that it is being turned into a vast pit of fertilizer. But the sun distracts our attention, always baking the blood dry, making things grow over it, and with its warmth giving the hope that comes with the organism’s comfort and expansiveness.”
- Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death
“Man is an animal…Whatever else he is, is built on this…The only certain thing we know about this planet is that it is a theater for crawling life, organismic life, and at least we know what organisms are and what they are trying to do.
At its most elemental level the human organism, like crawling life, has a mouth, digestive tract, and anus, a skin to keep it intact, and appendages with which to acquire food. Existence, for all organismic life, is a constant struggle to feed – a struggle to incorporate whatever other organisms that can fit into their mouths and press down their gullets without choking. Seen in these stark terms, life in this planet is a gory spectacle, a science-fiction nightmare in which digestive tracts fitted with teeth at one end are tearing away at whatever flesh they can reach, and at the other end are piling up the fuming waste excrement as they move along in search of more flesh. I think this is why the epoch of the dinosaurs exerts such a strong fascination on us: it is an epic food orgy with king-size actors who convey unmistakably what organisms are dedicated to. Sensitive souls have reacted with shock to the elemental drama of life on this planet, and one of the reasons Darwin so shocked his time – and still bothers ours – is that he showed this bone-crushing, blood-drinking drama in all of its elementality and necessity: Life cannot go on without the mutual devouring of organisms. If the living spectacle of all that he had organismically incorporated in order to stay alive, he might well feel horrified by the living energy he had ingested. The horizon of a gourmet, or even the average person, would be taken up with hundreds of chickens, flocks of lambs and sheep, a small herd of steers, sties full of pigs, and rivers of fish. The din alone would be deafening. To paraphrase Elias Canetti, each organism raises it’s head over a field of corpses, smiles into the sun, and declares life good.”
- Ernest Becker, Escape from Evil
Oh man. That is bliss. I can not explain exactly why? Maybe I am a masochist. I was never aware of Ernest Becker. He is awesome. Thank you for the introduction.
Little sleepy to be writing much more but for some strange reason I am excited about finding and digesting sweet honeys, and satiating organic matter with my animal teeth and digestive track in this organic matter graveyard we call earth, smiling in the sun. Just hoping the mice are not chewing that branch too fast and the honey is staying sweet because that dragon is scary. Better yet maybe the tribe is on the way to take care of that ferocious beast and provide a safety rope? One will never know. When does one yell, scream, cry, breakdown, pray, bargain, et al? I could definitely see myself doing all of the above as much as I like to think of myself as a stoic athiest. When should one let go? I do not know. In the moment, I would think I would hang on until the bitter end resigned with my fate. Maybe curse the mice, curse the dragon, curse the universe, pray for a one time. Yell for a one time or just primally scream at the planet, at the stars, at the gods, at the universe as the rats fight each other in the inhibition of action experiment.
On December 22 2014 19:34 GoTuNk wrote:
This is when I show up and say to lift more, fuck more and make more money
How much you deadlifting now breh breh?
Just started getting back into it and pulling some weight. Nothing like that feel of a bar bending lockout and that feel of the penis brain welcomed with a wanting wet vagina (with a pile of hundos on the floor.) I would happily let the dragon snatch me away from existence in those moments of time.
That is all well and good I still need some yoga, meditation, and Tolstoy to keep the brain and the spine healthy and tingly good.
There has to be something to competition and testosterone for male beasts though. I watched my parents and brother's dogs engage in tug of war to the death for 30 min. this morning and have never seen a pair of animals so happy. Just felt like I had to mention that somewhere. It got me really motivated to just start a wrestling or sambo or bjj class. At least there is always the iron to go and wrestle with. The iron never tires. The iron is truth.
United States. Dec 20 2014 11:37. Posts 8522
