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What is the end within? The end within a rose bud is a rose. An acorn becomes an Oak tree. The end within. Blow this up. All things have an end within. A purpose. How can you say that there is no purpose to creation as a whole when you must realise that the rose bud is a manifestation of what is going on on the grand scale? If a rose bud’s purpose is to display the rose within, then the purpose of the cosmos is presumed to be a very real, a very live, thing. You, your life, is that end within. You are the rose. Get over it!

This is Aristotle via me.

Existentialism: Ex nihil, nihil fit. Out of nothing comes nothing. That is what I reject, and, well, the real purpose of this sentiment is to provide an indulgence for the subject. It makes no more sense than saying out of everything comes everything. It is a mere tautology, its only possible reference is back on itself. Therefore it conveys no meaning. It is like living in the sentiment that existence, that life, is nothing but a flight from the alone TO the alone. I reject that, too.

In a closed system, such as the Cosmos, the Universe,
If there is light and dark, eventually that which is dark merges with that which is light and you have neither dark nor light. If there is hot and cold, the same formula applies. If there is organised and chaotic, the same. That is the second law of thermodynamics. That is immutable. Dead stop!

Strange jump! The equality tards seek to accelerate this process. Don’t they know it means death?
So, the struggle between liberty and statism is the struggle against entropy on the political level.

Nuff said!

I went for a bicycle ride early this morning. You have to get out early to beat the heat this July. On my way back I could see coming down a hill that two Labrador Retrievers were nosing around in the corner of a maize field ahead. I knew these dogs to be aggressive. Across the road, with his back to me, was a Great Dane. I’d tangled with all of them before. I hoped to sneak by them but just as I got within twenty feet or so of one of the Labs, my movement, noise, caught her attention, and she turned on me. I went straight for her, she ran off across the road and I made my turn left. The second my back was to her she charged. The other Lab was close too and the Dane, old as he was, was gallomping his self hard to get in on the action. The first, then the second, Lab, got a taste of my right foot. I popped both of them in the nose real hard. My knee was fully cocked when I let fly. They peeled off and fell back and I jumped on the pedals, outdistancing them. I could hear and see the Dane out of the corner of my left eye. His huge nails scraping on the asphalt added a funny kind of staccato background to the deep throated rumbling that he issued for a bark.

Meanwhile, up ahead, a pickup swerved in order to run over a large snake. I pulled up and these two guys, young construction workers, watched this corn snake in its death throes. I asked one guy who got out to take a picture, to stomp his head. Put the creature out of its misery, you know. He ignored me, concentrating on his cell phone camera. The driver said there was a board in the back. It was a two by four about four feet long. I stradddled the thing and bludgeoned its head to a pulp and wished all a good day as we parted company. It was friendly. Just three guys having a chance encounter over the death of a feared reptile.

Its not easy losing the love of your life and then getting attacked by a pack of dogs and then having to put a snake out of its misery.

After what I have gone through in the past two weeks I thought this was somehow a double bad omen. And, last night, I dreamed of rats.

Isn’t oblivion where I came from? Isn’t oblivion our greatest fear? So. We fear our origin? Passing into that great unknown the idea of not being remembered haunts us. We fear not having anything to cling to. We want order to reign, not chaos. The whole thrust of our being seems to be to stave off entropy. Abhorrent dissolution! This is the fiendish chain that binds us and this in a way is liberties opposite.

Liberty is a universal, a principle. That something is a principle means it is a force. Love, as principle, posits love as force…of nature, on a par with gravity. The same holds for all concomitants of sentient life. Always there are forbears who have struggled with these eternal verities, trying to see a clear path through an absolutely impossible maze.

Reading of Soren Kieerkegaard for instance: The soul is like a channel that opens into the sea. The closer to the sea the wider the channel. The boundaries of the individual soul increasingly dissolve as the “channel” merges with the sea. On meditation the personal soul resolves into the spirit of God, the cosmic soul. This is true transcendence and is not available to those trapped in subject/object modes of being. Those that have consigned their spirits to a “having” existence as opposed to “being”. Freedom is in being in the world. Slavery is in having objects in the world, in mere materialism.

The tone of this is that the sea is the repository of great joy, which I think is true, but for most of the lives of most people this great all encompassing sea is the abyss, the void that swallows up all purpose and meaning. It is oblivion, chaos, entropy. We have vehicles for coping with this and to follow that path the abyss becomes full not empty.

Faith is a vehicle for coping with our seeming estrangement from the real itself. Guilt is this same estrangement from reality. The Christ teaches us that there is a way out. Jesus said I am the way, the light, and no man cometh to the Father except by me. Here he is disembodying himself. He identifies with the “Way” to God and with the “Light” itself which illuminates this path. So, the way to God and the light shining thereon are principles too, and Jesus Christ was a living embodiment of those. In other times and other places, across the entire Cosmos, other beings live that also give a living body to these same universals. Isn’t it a necessary truth that there are many “Christs”?

Just wanted to get that off my mind.

I live in an emerald, this spring at least.

And, this is nice.

I wanted to do this yesterday. We are having very mild weather for this time of year with plenty of moisture. So it is especially pleasant and even more so in the evening light.

And then, there is this mess waiting for me.

Another dead soldier, Sgt. Major!

And she was such a pretty thing.

The voice of the void: “Alive, I can’t die; Dead, I can’t be born.”

Here is a black one. It is acrylic on canvas. Something tightly bound, it is. A presentation, a setting held firmly in place, a vast mystery as to origin, as to what exactly is going on, as to purpose, meaning, emotion. Is it love? Is it not? Perhaps it works to express and expand consciousness. Maybe it is so tightly held that any such expression is futile. Is it a surd? Is it without reason? Perhaps. But how can one possibly know whether it is not some kind of heuristic energeia? My intention is that it is the latter. It is self learning potentiality embedded in the kernel of the Real itself as a kind of meaning the expression of which is an infinite ingress of fractaling purpose.

if can you too where want did dense tearful dance
(propensely waiting for falling me)
and little lubricant folly for hidden things,
reality slips concretely between ego’s soul
i tend to manhood by degrees of you
(wait for me please, after all)
my petty exhortation is your echofile.

generally any particular thing loving knows,
this or these that those
(where why and wherefores see
wait for me can’t you please).

while being allowed hollows hallowed thoughts
suffering goes where wild wind blows
as long gaunt ghosts before time
we tend our seems as dreaming deems
(but really is merely and lovely plain
please wait for me, and anyway)
dreaming deeds is doing
all nothing does.