Saturday, July 30, 2011

"order & being situated in your world" a section of an essay

The internal virtues are covered, the external ones await. These virtues are “strategies” for life, as I play the game. They fit together in a sort of diagram, for easy comprehension.

The inner IN square is independence, the triangle is creativity, the circle is pragmatism. We’ve covered those. The head virtue, the one on top with a circle within a square is the virtue or “order.” This first section begins the topic by discussing how our place in the world is always already ordered to some degree, because we are situated. I think it was a philosopher named Heiddeger who talked about our situatedness, but I’m no certain. I haven’t read him. I took the word and put it to my own use.


The essay begins with talking of each man’s context, and then talks about the situatedness of special types of people, and how they differ from the average run.


Take care, Caretakers!


Daniel Christopher June



1.      Situatedness


            Life is by nature ordered. We exist within a context, we are situated. Here I am, with the past behind me, the future before me, and my potential humming within. Its as if the past were in my stomach, the future in my womb: the ever living present is the nexus of all that is, just as I am the center of my all, and you the center of your all. We are all situated. Whenever you read a book or meet a person, consider the details with one eye, and with the Odin eye, consider the big picture. The deeper in you look with one, the farther out you look with the other, till one eye is on the atom and the other the universe.

            The virtue of study requires that we impose order on all ideas we internalize. The virtue of productive pragmatism requires that we constantly order our lives. To structure life, to constantly refine its order, to situate all things, is the way of control. Power is the ability to order. Control orders.

            A man loses his enemies when he is able to internalize them, predict them, anticipate their criticisms, and so inoculate himself from them. By internalizing my world, I am able to expect its surprises. Every absolute must contain its exception, as the raindrop balances the sea. We can work harder, knowing where we are situated in relationship to our vacation. Planning it out for months makes the vacation more enjoyable when it finally comes, and more memorable when it passes. To be unaware if and when you are due a vacation until the day you are given it would reduce its value by over ninety percent.

            Expectations and memories embed us in time, situate us in history. The present moment is thick with both past and future, which halo it and make it holy. The full context of every moment is temporal as a coming after and a coming before – I don’t experience the present, but a living memory of the near present, that is already partially processed and stitched into both past and future. There may be no necessary connection between cause and effect other than the consciousness’ inability to see it otherwise. What more reason do we need to trust it? The past and future exist only in the present. Beyond that they are mere ideals, and if taken too literally, lead to the problems of all fundamentalism: we come to believe that we should exist for the past or future, and not they for us.

            We are already in the future by sheer anticipation; we participate in the future by imagining it; anticipation is the future now. We can work with more cheer, believing that our job will be done next week. Having done a thing and knowing you did it changes you forever. The mere memory of the fact slowly sinks into your eternal soul: you are forever what you have done.

            Whatever place we hold sacred, a church, a temple, a private grove, or for the self-appointed priests and priestesses, whatever place they have hallowed with their worship of the universe, that place is internalized and unconsciously invoked when we put ourselves in the sacred mood. As music plays our moods, though we don’t consciously hear it, so too do our minds inhabit those places we have loved and lived within, though we don’t think about it, unless we self-reflect and can open the curtains of internal structuration.

            The sacred is the template metaphor used to construct our daily lives; it is a place-holder. It means “distinct and important.” The very architecture of our childhood house and playtime experiences become the ideas by which we think. Those years of childhood become habits of attitude, belief, personality, and character—though we forget it all. It is as if the child ate the brick of the fire place, and by that memory is forever kept warm.

            We make our memories our own. You don’t own something until you change it. Nor can anything be important to you that is not related to you. We love our own children best, and care for no mother nor father, be they ever so divine, so much as the flesh and blood parents of our youth – no matter what other strained feelings interlace with that love! We are situated in our world, a world which amounts to what we have changed in the universe. The wide-flowing, ever-growing, ever-perfecting Universe, our mother of Matter, learns from each of us, and from us upstart godlings she learns most; we are here to educate ourselves first, and her secondly. She is near as the air we breath, as intimate as the pulse in our throats.

            All forms are analogical; all beings are variations of one being. And yet how much more valuable to the universe and the world of people are some of us over others. If we create ourselves equal, what makes the difference in the beloved cases? Is it mere situational luck which gives this thing luster, and that other none? Yet no matter how great a man or woman is, and more importantly, no matter how great a man or woman becomes by effort of will and love, nobody can be more important to you than yourself, except through optical illusion, when some hero seems overly great, but what they did, you can do, and what you can do best, nobody else could do so well, even if they were to strain, where for you it is the ease which flows from your own nature.

            We must therefore consider even those men and women born with severe autism, or perhaps mental retardation, as of the same stuff as us, not only as human beings – and we honor all of mankind as the highest beings possible short of the universe as a whole! – but as life, as potentialities, as minds, as the same as us, but in a situation which makes them appear less. No sin caused this, but the biological laws of genetics, which must be praised even through those who suffer, being the same laws which created the healthier people, and also the same laws which created your ability to judge those laws in the first place. We can escape any situation, but we cannot escape situatedness. We can judge any situation, but our very judgment is a situation as well, one possibility of many.










Friday, July 29, 2011

"columbus" a section of an essay

This sections ends the part of my essay about Pragmatism, the third of my internal virtues, or strategies for the game. This section explores the limits of pragmatism. Pragmatism is about getting the daily stuff to work. But what about doing something new? What about exploring new territory? Is this something we can be pragmatic about, or must we be adventurous and foolish? The next section is about Order.





6. Columbus


            To master a system, consider how you already explore any new territory. Perhaps you are in a new dorm room or library. Knowing where things are, where you can go, what you can do, requires boldly going where you have never gone before, perhaps going where you should not go. How would you know what constitutes enough unless you did too much?

            We master our system by knowing the essential elements, quantifying them, and seeing their relationship to the rest, knowing how they all fit together.

            Listen to a new CD. Its peculiar, isn’t it? How does it all fit together? You listen to it five times, and slowly; like the receding of a flood, little bits of lyrics poke up like the tops of hills and trees. Slowly you start to like this part or that part. You get a bit of melody in your head. You can start to see how it all fits together. Perhaps after a couple dozen listens, you can understand and comprehend it.

            It is as if we internalize forms in different resolutions, first in bare outline and finally in fine detail. Find a book worthy of being called a “scripture,” something that sings eternally to your heart, and study it again and again for the rest of your life. The accountant versus the philosopher. We can play a details game or a generalized game, an eye upon the planets or an eye upon the daffodils. I see life all at once, walk in the clouds. As for this detail or that, I just sniff and sneeze and do what I please. The chores of the day bore me, unless I find a way to use them.

            Language normalizes, makes all things predictable, with nothing unexpected, no surprise to comprise us. Life aims first to master language, and second the world by it. Affix words to things, categorize carefully, map it all out. Compare your friends, quietly in your mind; read books in pairs. I am more apparently Daniel when stacked against this other fellow. For the ability to delineate a thing is the aim of philosophy, the ability to set it in a toy system, this is the skill we seek. An action is thinkable only after it has been accidentally done. Experiment. Put yourself in the center of action. Suffer unnecessarily. You will have built the models of reality with which to simplify it and orchestrate it back out again. Having done a thing, we can say it, we know how much energy it requires, we know how to situate it.









Tuesday, July 26, 2011

"atmospheric pressure of a system of theory" a section of an essay

This next section is a nexus of various threads of thought, all feeding together into one fetus: the inner divine personality. Here, this penultimate section on pragmatism, or practicality, I argue for the practicality of philosophy and theory, and knit it all back to that central idea.



5. Atmospheric Pressure of a System of Theory


            A lifetime of theory presses down into the moment of action. And so, each of us simplifies and streamlines his life. Like the movie Memento, where the protagonist persists by adapting the simplest method for the greatest results – he overcomes his lack of memory with the use of tattoos, Polaroids, and simple notes – or the movie Killbill with a plot structured like a hit list, let us simplify our lives, make our gestures grand and elementary, for the fewer parts a machine has, the fewer break downs, and the easier it is to repair when it does breakdown. Family, Work, and Passion, the basic trilogy, this system balances like the branches of a government. Three is ever the number of the dynamic, being unstable without the perfecting fourth. There is the man, his dilemma, and the perfection of the artwork. Lacking that fourth, the three is passionate and painful.

            Make your personality such a dynamo. Personalities are strategies. The personality, as the sum of all communicating habits, is a unified style, a way of negotiating with other minds, a way of expressing the self, a mode of beauty. Every day we use our character of action, our personality of words, as tools to succeed at life, as means to cultivate the self and present it to the world. Let us therefore simplify and distill a few basic methods from all the experiments we have made. Forms generate forms, they make creations. Let us purify our forms, let us better our heaven, let us fashion perfect ideas and integrate them into the best habits. Plug away at it, work your best, and do not wish for instant results. Tricks are for masters, they cripple beginners.

            We tend to keep the eyes focused at a certain distance, to put ourselves at a certain distance from what we see. Learn to get in the face of your problems, see it eye to eye, don’t be ashamed to stare, look into the heart of the matter, fix your eyes with intent, cock your head, raise your eyebrow. The more you look at a shape, the more your mind takes that shape into the other things you look upon. Reflect therefore on the regular shapes of your mind.

            Every practice requires an incumbent theory. What is your theory of yourself? Being unique, you could not read it from a book, but perhaps only capture glimpses of it in everything you read. Perhaps a whole heaven of theory must spin above to bear upon the little nib of a pen: write a Summa and you can then write an Inferno. Write enough philosophy and perhaps a perfect poem will roll out of the batch.

            Methods grow within us, imbed in our muscles, knit into our nerves. We seek growth and we seek stability. Maturity is the ability to postpone gratification. A child matures by being told she is too immature. This falsehood is an unfair expectation, yet an apt prod. Chides and ideals are deceits that can move reality. One method of growth in this world is to lie to yourself, to expect more of yourself then you have to give, to blame yourself for what you are not in fact accountable for. The accursed ideal is yet a springboard for many, though a weight of guilt on most. Fantasy will yet help us. Pleasure can only be delayed through imagining future pleasure. We always seek the greatest pleasure, and sometimes my greatest pleasure now isn’t to gratify myself now, but to imagine myself more gratified later.

            Theory is beautiful. The philosophical type can hardly move a muscle without seeking incumbent theories about how. We surf upon books, and perhaps have a bit more know that, than know how. Yet with our continual study as our basic method, sometimes a rude nail of reality bursts the feedback we carry, and seeds pour all over the ground. We are overfull, so thick with ideas and forms that we are akin to the lusty sun who impregnates all worlds.

            Our method is not to deny these bits of peculiarity, but to accept them in the spirit of congruence, that our thinking, feeling, acting, and talking all flow into each other. We accept all that we are, and we accept all that we are not. Each of my previous experiences feeds into this given moment – indeed all of history existed only to give me a stage and place – the ever blessed now, that is the gift of the present, to be the highest being of all that is, to be the infant god who strives and tries.

            “I want to be happy!” to accomplish what? If happiness were the end of life, life wouldn’t be so stingy with the substance. Theologians interpret suffering as an objection to life, yet it is difficult to imagine anything like a life without it. Growth and stability would be impossible without joy and suffering, and yet those exist only for growth and stability. Discipline too is a means, not an end. Some cannot discipline themselves, so they join the military, take a job, find some external compulsion to draw the gifts from them as a furnace draws gold from an ore. They acquire an external model for discipline, internalize it, and ever after have that power. And this is good. The artist temperament is recalcitrant, resents external impositions, looks at its own nature as the true authority, and wishes if anything to impose this over the external world. It is either self-discipline or obedience in this world, intrinsic versus extrinsic motivation. Know what you need and get it. Effort itself is an image of muscle strain. Self discipline is possible for a mind which own its body. Lacking this, you must sell your body. My effort is turned into wages, for “I am my career,” but some of us use a career to support our passion, yet do not make our passion into a career, lest we lose our autonomy and creative right to do as we wish.

            Whatever your course, learn the strategy of full engagement. Know how to press your full care into one object, and segment your day into one obsession at a time, like a centipede is segmented into feet. Know how to look intently at whatever is before you, figure out its logic, its limits, its weaknesses and strengths. Learn how to study it.

            Learn therefore how to draw conceptual maps. By studying any body of work—an instrument, a book, a period of history—look for essentials and turn these into conceptual terms. Perhaps you are reading a philosopher. Pencil a box around each of his terms and underline its definition. Then pluck these terms from their source and learn how to diagram them into a dynamic and logical map, a metaphorical shape that understands and comprehends them.

            You will learn by and by a few metamethods for reading all situations, for reducing them to your basic terms, for mapping them. Language is the universal solvent. Learn to transmute all things into language, into your own language, and it will be yours. Lux Sophia is the goddess of light, who turns all ignorance into radiance. Master language, craft a few metaphors to handle all objects, and you will become competent.

            Competency means holding the metamethod. The generally competent man or woman can do anything, having self knowledge of his other native abilities, having the power to observe the object in question, and having the wits to connect these two, no matter how far apart they may initially seem.










Saturday, July 23, 2011

"emotional placeholders (part 2)" a section of an essay

Greetings, O Students of Life!

In this rather long section of the part of the essay “Strategies for the Game” about Pragmatism, I continue my discussion about the logic of emotions, and how to set them as circuits to optimize our daily lives. It is a rather large section, but the topic is something we all feel every day; it’s helpful in self-programming.

Take care, caretakers!


Daniel Christopher June



4. Emotional Placeholders (part 2)


            Pragmatism means wrapping the emotions around our heads like great hoops and haloes. All emotions must find their outlet, must circle back into us in their inverted form. An emotion is expressed when it is communicated, when we feel assured that somebody can receive it, can feel its vibrational tone, can receive its laden emotions, can experience what we experience, can accept that bit of our spirit into themselves.

            Emotions are energy, ideas are ditches and riverbeds. Every idea consumes certain emotions, exudes others. Smoking exhales guilt. Work as a butcher, and other habits must compensate the brutality of your practice. Too many sins must repent, and this in order to keep on sinning; give up repentance and you will give up sinning.

            If I am lonely, I can rename that loneliness “the honor of intellectual distinction,” but this costs a bit of arrogance, which attracts its own friends and enemies. The logic of my attitude situates me within my world. Every idea must balance itself against others, every power requires counterpowers to keep it credible and situated. Small groups of people go to extremes, demand incredible revolutions, imagine the immanent end of the world, outrage the news and media, but in the bigger picture they are caused by the very group they define themselves against, they are an organ for the larger group body. This country has need for a few cults to absorb the radical elements, to put them together, to give them a voice to counter and reinforce the popular voice.

            What an individual or a cult can say the others neither say, nor know, but feel. My inner layers project outwards onto the world. The larger the system, the more idiosyncrasies that crop up.

            All language subtly evokes sex and violence, and in that we do play with ultimate realities, euphemized and abbreviated till they are mere toys, which we fondle for the sheer thrill of toying with ultimate things. We are held to the earth by a few coordinates, a few threads of language and thought. The ultimate realities of sex and death are asymptotes of the game which evoke the entrance and exit of life. There is a brief moment in sex where the mind expands as wide as the world, a brief moment in death where the mind contracts to almost nothingness. The extreme gestures of murder and sex fringe language as ultimate gestures, needlessly excessive in the day to day. They are the hidden core of the fantasies which we are aware of only in the cool ease of everyday language: “Oh I could just kill you!” jokes a man to his friend. Language is suggestive and fantastic.

            The lottery is a funded fantasy. The more plausible my fantasy seems, the more I can enjoy it without acting it out. Rituals and prayers are other taxed fantasies, which require investment to enjoy impossible possibilities. Our fantasies surround us and glue the objects of our world into patterns and shapes.

            Language is the halo around each man, his aurora, his eminence, his shine. Every person adds an ambience. When the boss is in the building, his spirit pervades that place, his overall attitude, compounded with his immediate mood, pour directly into everyone under his charge.

            The feelings of a man animate him. His states, his emotions, his moods move and inspire his actions. Religion ultimately amounts to a set of aesthetic feelings, the beauty of a moral system.

            The pure air of the logic of assumptions must pass through the ocean of desire, which is the feelings and moods before they can be thought, spoken, and enacted. We sometimes speak so as to feel, speak so as to think, seek feedback so as to know what to feel and how to think. The external perspective of a friend provides a feedback loop. Our thoughts leave us and return, as if the friend we spoke to were a  module of our own brain. Slowly we tighten the loop until we’ve internalized the friend’s perspective, and can think through his mind without engaging him. And so we internalize the eyes and emotions of those we know.

            “In music, the passions enjoy themselves.” Music is the sanction over every feeling, purifying from it the subsidiary emotion of “should I be feeling this?” Music is emotional expressiveness, the very shape of the emotions within the mind. Singing and dancing evolved before speech, have been our way of thinking from the start. Music is how the group body feels, how souls resonate. Hearing is emotional, seeing rational. Music is an emotion intensifier, making the ceremony more ceremonious, the comedy more comedic. It shocks us with its unpredictability. The unconscious as well as the conscious create and seek patterns, continually predict them. Thus, whether focused or not, we are surprised by music, by life. Style is the balance and orchestration of competing desires. No antagonism, no progress.

            Emotions are flavors of frustration. The flow of desire blossoms into pleasure. Only when desire is blocked, when we can’t act, do we build energy into a specific emotion. By training the emotions, by making then into circuits to orchestrate our actions, and by working our words into circuits to orchestrate the actions of others, by years and years of such repetition do we make an habit lasting, make it eternal. The pilot-light of joy is never snuffed. Suffering is superficial; the innermost is bliss. Siddhartha, the prince who would become the Buddha, could have avoided such an indignity if he weren’t a spoiled prince, being pampered, and therefore unable to cope with the sight of a mere corpse or elderly man. Being fed upon nothing but pleasure, his life became unbearable, so that only complete annihilation could be his final desire.

            "Mindfulness," the term used to describe the Eastern meditative practice of engaging one object at a time, of gently dismissing all distracting thoughts, has already been in the West for just as long in the idea of focus, but rather then passively contemplating the thing, in the Eastern style, the West is creative, and believes we should engage it. The emotions can either reinforce or distract us from the project we now engage. Leonardo Di Vinci, focusing on a blank canvas for eight hours, preparing to paint, this is active engagement, this is intense focus; Michelangelo at the Sistine ceiling is similarly focused and engaged.

            The method of Allism is to combine all present realities, all interests and all distractions, together as one, to weave all emotions into the current situation, to note the music around us, the noises, to symbolize them, to weave them into the same tapestry. If I read this first book, then read the second, I still have the shape of the first in my mind; I will see how the styles clash, and use the first to contrast the second and open it up. Feel free to make connections, see insights, discover crazy interrelations, since inspiration need not be logical. Feed your moods into everything you do. So I’m angry? How can I best use that anger to fit into this particular circumstance? The emotion should neither be denied nor hidden, but structured into the best thoughts, those thoughts into the best words, those words into the best actions. Do not segment your mind, but let all emotions flow together with grace. The game is won with grace and ease. Intense practice is for that supple simple thing.

            Know therefore how to reinforce your emotional energies with family, friends, and coworkers who intensify the moods your project requires. Emotions move through a group like dye through a beaker, like adrenaline through blood. A man may commit suicide, and on that level he succumbed to a personal crisis. But the science of statistics gives the lie to that being only a personal matter, for we can predict how many suicides there will be in regard to, say, a new tax, or a declaration of war. Emotions are communicated through language, and accumulate in those meant to represent a particular emotion. The group body kills that man as much as he kills himself: madness, just like every other emotional state, is a private as well as public affair. Some men are born scapegoats, and by hating them, we hate parts of ourselves; some others flaunt their opulent riches, and by watching them we are all rich. For whether we envy them, or simply don’t care, those people are rich for all of us. Most people are happy to think of how spoiled the prince is. That prince is a part of themselves, and means something personal to everybody, even if they hardly know him.

            Language is liquid desire; it flows through people, through communities. We are all conduits of the larger system, while remaining essentially selfish and private – for man is layered. Our eyes are beams, our words walls, every man threatens violence implicitly, his words can ruin us, it is as if the world were a labyrinth walled in men’s regards, and we each seek our place, taking the way that only we can take, taking the place the world has made available to us.

            Faith is a feeling of trust only possible regarding something essentially untrustworthy. Faith means faith in the dubious: what is by nature trustworthy requires no faith. In the same way, patience is possible only if a person is first angry, and hate is possible where one first loves. Those who are truest to their religion don’t really believe it; the strongest adherents fear they don’t belong to the group. In this, the group spirit is not the spirit of each individual, nor even a spiritual average, but something laid over the individual layer, and perhaps contrary to it.

            Therefore, moods have many uses, some opposite of the others. A man may be especially kind and gentle with a child precisely because he is enraged and fears he might lose his temper. The kindness is an expression of anger as much as hollering would be. Rather than asking “how can I get into a better mood?” I ask “how can I use this mood? What can it do? What work is it cut out for?" It has been said “when the student is ready, the master appears.” Likewise we say that when the mood is right, its use will show. When I have the correct energy, its outlet opens before me. There is more than “love at first sight,” but also “anger at first sight” “resolve at first sight,”—opportunity knocks at every door.

            Some of us are slow to respond, a little shell-shocked, a little stupid, we are slow learners, thick skulled. Our moods are like boulders: hard to budge, but once rolling, impossible to stop. We are slow learners but deep learners. We know how to foster and allow an all-consuming passion. We know how to complement mood to mood, we know what to drink, what to eat, who to talk to, what music to listen to, what to say, what to do, what to think, to prepare the moment of intimacy. That moment of intimacy is brief and all-important. So much of life is preparation for those few moments of touch with the skin of the Mother. Frank Lloyd Wright learned as a teenager that all work has a cadence to it, and once you know the song of the task, humming its rhythms, you can work much harder. Every system has a soul, an intelligence, a resonance. Knowing how to listen and take it in let’s you master the system, lets you fit into it, perhaps alter the tempo, perhaps alter yourself. With music, we know how to access our deeper feelings, our deeper ideas.

            Deeper ideas are longer lasting, more influential, yet less intense than fleeting ideas. The thunderstorm comes and goes, but a steady rain fills the barrel. The ephemeral emotions keep the daily mood stable. Today I am happy, but at any given moment I might be irritated or curious or confused. As those moods persist and congeal, I gain a basic temperament: my ego hardens into a character, for my moods are the flow of blood into the muscles of action. My attitude is based on my inborn predisposition, which is modified by my education: happiness for me is me at my optimum, but it looks different on you. What you call ‘happiness’ looks to me disturbing. And though my actions and moods harden my muscles, just as my ideas fuse together into larger ideas, nevertheless my strength is in flexibility and the ability to break down the desires that have solidified into glue, to unstitch the atom, and release the burst. The very energy of an idea may be used against it. If every idea contains the logic of its use, with or without a “system of differences” to balance it, if a thing already contains a full system in the atom of its logic, then we need only bend an idea back on itself, face it towards the philosophical mirror, to explore the limits of its logic.

            The deep ideas hold the surface ideas in place; the surface ideas balance and protect the deeper ideas. The moods associated with each idea can be mulched and decomposed. The basic blockings of aggression, for instance, become anxieties which freeze energy and block flow. They make ugly. Grace knows how to use murder as well as sex, the dangerous extremes to – subtle as a brush—paint the butterflies wings.

            The basic attitude of self-denial, which is the basis of personal morality, the idea that I can control myself, can hold power over myself, because I deny what I want, can be used in turn for self-fulfillment. The moods, attitudes, and emotions central to each habit can be used to attain its opposite. Chastity can gain better sex. Dishonesty can get at higher truth. Hate is nothing more than frustrated love, silence is frozen speech, speech that speaks even in silence for those who know how to read the twitch of the throat. The grace and flow of each into each, of all into all, the confluence and congruence of the energy when flowing through the muscles, is sex appeal. Nervousness and anxiety are the opposite of sex, the opposite of love, are the damming and building of energy, of power itself. In the spasm of laughter, orgasm, or dance, all the day’s little energies are harvested and spent towards this one great release.

            Between the world of conduits and outlets and my inner energies sits my intricate network of writings, which put each energy into its place. Every man and woman has such an interface, a way of mediating between self and world. Perhaps a man goes for long walks, or plays sports, and by analogy and metaphor prepares his mind for the most real thing in life: his family of love, his work of duty, his art of passion. Art is the tip of the pyramid, which holds everything in place and grows from it as its highest flower, as the crown and purpose of life. Yet the basic everyday normal things are the meaning and stuff of life.

            Feeling melts frigidity, passion opens her mouth. If heaven and hell are mere parables and picture language for the philosophical idea of dualism, sex and birth are again metaphors for creative intimacy.

            Intimacy is for moments. Fake your intimacy and you cheapen it, you dull its edge, you sin against the body and the soul, you sell yourself. Nirvana becomes your new heaven: to finally lose yourself. He who loses his life for the sake of heaven, will lose himself for eternity.

Write the same material in many moods, love your wife, enjoy your art, in all your moods, but use what you have, do not deny what is real, but be real, express what is in your heart, let the moment make itself. There is but a limited amount of care in the mind. Romance or riches or arts will exhaust your care. Wisdom take the sovereign place for the man of philosophy, folly takes the sovereign place for love, the two mix for art. Pour your spirit and soul into the activities that open your apotheosis. Do what you love. Never do what you hate, nor commit a deed you would have to hide from the world. Act as if the universe were your audience, speak as if every ear can hear. Care leads to active engagement, engagement opens moments of intimacy, intimacy is for a moment the highest bliss, for the moment too long, the greatest pain. Know how to disengage, and how to hide your innermost at all times from everyone. For if “griefs are afterwards an entertainment,” as Homer said, so are all things endured on the innermost eventually assumed into the world, as if the entrance to the circumference were in the center of the centermost point.

            Will and sympathy control others through the threat of violence and the threat of love’s removal. Parents gesture to these extremes in every punishment of their children. These are shaping influences. Death and solitude are the hidden images in all threats. Know therefore how to master death and solitude. Go for long periods of time into your own head, crawl deep down your own eyes, gaze at yourself in the mirror and engage the inner world in dialectical meditation. Then you will have combined pleasure and purpose, the dyad of love and power, which must both complement and contradict each other, which arrange into hierarchies and equalities, at different times or at the same time. Then you will be.










Thursday, July 21, 2011

"emotional placeholders" a section of an essay

Though pragmatism is about getting the necessary chores and duties of life done in an orderly matter, I think at a more intimate level, pragmatism means making the emotions circulate in the best way. This essay, the first of two, talks about the emotions and how to wire them to be effective each day. If you can use all your emotions, you are using all your fuels, and you can get your work done.



3. Emotional Placeholders (part 1)


                Pragmatism is feeling the emotions in a way that smoothes out frustration, is placing each emotion in its best outlet to the world. The heart is a world, the mundus mundi, an inner geography; the emotions are places. We put the objects of the external world in different places of the heart, for those places must be filled by something. All the emotions want to play. Why should I wish I were happier when it is only that very wish which bars me from happiness? For happiness isn’t about smiling and feeling pleasure, but it is about feeling the right emotions in the right way. Even the man who regularly weeps or regularly rages may be quite happy, because those emotions fit his temperament and education and therefore make him feel himself, make him feel in control, make him feel emotionally relieved. Even the most painful emotion feels pleasurable when expressed in the right way. A pure suffering doesn't exist. The heart is meant to be happy, to use all the emotions. Trying to wish an emotion away is merely expressing another emotion, just as the struggle with temptation is itself a temptation, the fighting against the desire is another desire.

                No matter where I am in the world, my preferred set of emotions will find expression in some nearby object. Yes, when we enter a new situation, a new range of emotions must be expressed. Entering the new job is to be in a place where new things must fill certain energizing placeholders. We will inevitably feel anxious, afraid, hopeful, proud, but though all will be filled, what they are filled with depends on choice and opportunity. After working the job for a few weeks, people fall into their typical patterns. I find which persons I can confide in, which I must be careful with, which I can laugh at, which I can laugh with. Soon the place is naturalized, it fits my natural schema. I have twisted a few pipes to fit a few outlets, but the same emotional energy, the same creative jism, is flowing as with any other job. Studies show that lottery winners go back to being just about as happy as they were before they won the lottery, and that after the death of a loved one, we eventually are no more sad than before.

                A state of mind is a place that will always have happiness and suffering. I give you heaven, and you complain of the harps. Your happiness and suffering are in the long run constants, you are destined to feel so much bliss and so much suffering in this life. How you choose to apply them is where your attitude meets your character. You attitude is a combination of your inborn temperament, which is modified with education, and personal choice, which reacts to your education. Your character is in the types of actions you commit so as to apply that attitude to the world. Therefore, don’t aspire to kill off certain emotions, but to configure them all so they best serve your life goal.

                The configuration of emotions is based on both our inner symphony, that personal theme music of our lives, and also the basic life-plot or personal myth we have chosen for ourselves. With a certain configuration of archetypes, we have chosen an importance. I need a mother figure or a antagonist character, and if I can’t make you through creative interpretation fit that role, then I will find somebody who can.

                Therefore, the tender hearted woman who cries a lot is happy to cry a lot. The pissed off customer who demands his rights is happy to be pissed off. Lacking that, he would have to find creative ways to complain. The bitchy wife does not secretly want a better husband. Even that secret wish, if she had it, would merely be a fantasy to enhance the feeling of discontent which is so dear to her. Wedded to a perfect husband and she would quickly divorce in horror. Therefore we all need enemies to pour unto them the emotions we would spare our friends. And it does the enemies good too for us to fulfill that service.

                Therefore, the bizarre warning that we ought to be careful for what we wish for, which is such a strong theme in children’s stories, strikes me as missing the point. We wish for something so that we won’t get it. If we desired it, we wouldn’t wish or pray, but grasp and take. We wish merely to feel frustration. Just as the Greeks watched tragedies so they could feel the triumph of nobility even in his defeat, so we watch our movies and take in our myths to configure our character. We are all the novel's characters at once. Those characters become internalized, and symbolize sets of emotions, attitudes, and beliefs that all refer really to ourselves. By hating this person or that, by being racist or loving, we are hating and loving parts of ourselves, we are celebrating our own being. Allistically, I take all emotions as good, even the emotions that dislike the other emotions and make plans on changing them. They are all good, though we mature past some and grow into others.









Monday, July 18, 2011

interlude, "Group Flow" an essay

This is not from the essay I’ve been developing, but spontaneous ideas of the nature of group energy, and its creative use.

Daniel Christopher June


Group Flow



                You may be a genius without precedent, you may be an artist surpassing the very gods, yet you do not exist only as an individual, we all exist within the world, and we are part of Man, the great mind of us all together. Our creative energy, our jism, comes from fads, fashions, revolutions, insights, the great release of energy which bursts with every step of technological, artistic, and philosophical progress.

                The Nazis had more than novel ideas, fit perfectly to entrance the nation; they also had a novel technology, the invention of propaganda and the blitzkrieg. Novelty is necessary to liberate the mind from custom, whether for good or for evil. Missionaries impress aboriginals not with divine miracles, but with novel technology.

                The creative matrix of society is layered and complex. In these United States, different regions enact prejudices, mindsets, and personalities. The emotions are scattered geographically. NYC is harsh and brilliant; Grand Rapids is pious and uptight; certain cities as a whole manufacture serial killers or artists or whatever else, and each of those people epitomizes an idea, enacts it on the world. A murderer is vicious and must be punished, we must fight it; war crimes and petty crimes are made by accountable individuals, but only at one level; at another level, we all participate in them, even if we hate them; the fullness of Man is in all people, which is why we are akin to the extreme Buddhists who believe no man is saved unless every man is saved.

                The triumphant people make the laws and set the politics; the defeated people make the morals and set the religion. The Jews, perpetually defeated throughout history, fed much into Western Religion. When Christianity triumphed in Rome, it ceased to be spiritual and became political, burning Alexandria, murdering the pagan philosopher Hypatia, all the deeds they accused their enemies of doing. The Christians lusted to return wound for wound, as the book of resentment, Revelation, makes clear: they were upset, so the whole world ought to be destroyed. I’ve known depressed people who hope for this sort of apocalypse. Jehovah’s Witnesses base their faith on it.

                The Irish when defeated became bestowers of Celtic Wisdom. When Christianity defeated the Teutons, the old holidays survived in Christmas and Easter, with Santa Clause derived from Odin and Easter eggs derived from Astarte. The pantheism of the Native Americans, compounded with the injection of German pantheism, will win over this nation. The Greeks when defeated by the Romans yet made the Roman religion.

                Zen Buddhism will make progress in the militarily neutered Japan, and we are waiting for Germany’s spiritual triumph. When the externalized jism, politics, is blocked, energy flows inwards and grows profound. The internalized energy becomes spiritual, wisdom becomes concentrated.

                When the creative energy is released from the inner needs, it takes the shape of the perforation which released it. Our wounds bleed weapons. When Paul made a dagger from the corpse of Jesus, he was able to cut the throat of his religion and break the Law. God and Gods, the divine, the Absolute, are shapes of the All upon the sky, as if the outer bubble had imprinted inwards a shape we could consider. Where we shine the light, she presses in. She goes by whatever name we prefer, and is praised and cursed in the name of all Gods, Jesus, Buddha, Brahma, the Tao, Satan.

                People pour like water over the land, trying out every possibility, working into every nook. To the individual it is unique and wonderful; to the wide mind it is statistical. The field must be fertile for the fruit to fill. The energy must be pent. The old forms must become decrepit, the traditions must ossify, and in the moment of their destruction, when the old gods, the Ancient of Days, fall to dust, the energy invested in them breaks forth in cathetic explosions. This is the era of creative exuberance, when the traditional breaks apart, releasing their desire.

                Those madstars and madeyes ahead of their time, they will always be ahead of their time. If he was not outside his place, he could not wound the world-need and bring forth a new energy. I am misunderstood and ignored for a hundred years? Shining minds are always obscure. Nietzsche could not have been popular in his own time; now he must be.  The creators must be insulated from their time, above reproach, without criticism. They are true gods invisible.

                Why can’t the song be all chorus? Why be frustrated with a complicated verse? Why does the symphony have slow moments? Do we prefer its spiritual heights? They do not exist apart from the lows. It is not that the lows make the highs seem high in comparison, but that the high would be meaningless without the preparation and remembrance of the low which put it there.

                Freedom grows restless and must out. Every system no matter how rational has problems. Those problems are the flexibility of the system; they are good. Every system has its tricks, every structure its exploits. The criminal element is part of the water that pours over society: there will always be evil ones, and they do society good, though they do you or me much bad. Our Utopia is already here wherever your foot falls, where mine falls – such is the power of our weight upon this earth –a utopia which expects the best of every system, and not some impossible abbreviation—a “good parts version.” The madstars offer a gesture, a symbolic act, which opens the possibility of its full expression. Works of art allow each of us to be wounded in the way Man is wounded; we each take in that unique energy which the sensitive artist felt first. Yes, he does mingle a little of his own self with his work, a selfish self-expression – how wonderful it is for this reason alone – but more so it expresses the times, it is world soul. It expresses the thoughts of Man.

                Raphael and Picasso were not of the same genre. Stravinsky is the same kind of artist as Picasso, for the medium is the least part of the art. What matters the genre? It is the ideas they express which defines an art, its philosophical heart, so that all the genres of a given idea are doing the same art; but if one were to compare, say, painters throughout history, we would deceive ourselves that they were the same game, that these are all “equally painters,” as if medium mattered. The spirit of Allism, the idea of Mattria, is the soul of our art.

                The Focus of I is a sphere. It may focus inwards or it may relax outwards, it may either compress or expand. But to move inwards, part of it must move outwards to counter-balance. For there is both focus and selection. To be utterly focused is to open the selection the widest. To put it into a different register, for the mind to be raised high to heaven the heart must be dropped to hell. The spheres of thought above the earth, transcendentalism, are possible if the heart sinks profounder. The consciousness lives in a series of times, a series of  consciousnesses, and experiences them differently. When a philosopher, poet, or magician enters the inner world, his external presence seems irritable. Nobody can relate to him. Nobody can laugh with him. He laughs alone and is considered touched. Those who laugh together resonate together, but he is in a different place, a different sphere, though his feet still leave prints.

                Yet his intellectual feet walk from cloud to cloud. How I have gone through days and weeks reading certain books intermittedly throughout the day, so that my mind stays in that sphere of thought, though I nevertheless engage the daily doings. Its as if I am alive when engaged in these ideas, while my outer form does his duty.

                To stay within a mode of thought, within a sphere of consciousness, an internal and external apparatus must be instated to remind you how to stay there. The spheres of thought require a language and tone to maintain them.

                How are you to maintain your family? If the family energy is down, time will replenish it, but you can still feel energetic on another level. Whenever blocked on one level, switch to another: jump boards. My employed self is different from my family self; I can be on fire on one level, though frozen on another.

                The unconscious may be draining the energy for its own problem, and leave the consciousness depressed and blaming some immediate frustration that is actually unrelated. There is no end of things to complain about in this world if you are in the mood to complain, but the root cause is in mental energy, just as the sick person seems to be sick because of a rare fungal infection of his lungs, but really his lowered immune system is to blame.

                Society moves in waves; the logic of its layers spread energy throughout; the substrate of energy is not money or food or love or anything other than ideas. An idea is information loaded with desire – nothing possible for a computer to process – the combination of an abstraction with a feeling. Assumptions are pure and without desire, but the habits of thinking fill ideas with desire. Lacking this directive, truth would have no value.

                It takes incredible amounts of energy to knit a poem. The poet inherits most his tropes, adds just a bit. Ideas are the true treasure of a nation, a few books. To form something radically new, don’t expect anybody to care. It will take generations to sink in, the popularizer of the idea will get the credit. Yet somehow ownership never fails, and what comes from your innermost will forever be your own. Even the poets and philosophers, they must accept the guilt imposed on them of being selfish, egoistical, of insisting on hours a day for projects that make no sense to anybody. Something in them makes them think this “hobby” is more important then job, family, country, the whole world. It is all consuming. What oceans of energy he must hold under his hat! Somehow this person is expected to be polite, modest, equable, kind, generous – ridiculous! Let him insist on himself, he has that right.










Friday, July 15, 2011

"built and release" part of an essay

On with the pragmatic use of emotions, of building up energy, in this case, and then releasing it. Being able to build up a series of energies and releasing each of them at the right time brings success. Most of pragmatism will be about emotional hygiene, beginning with this secion.








2. Build and Release

            Creativity opens up the inspiration that alone can dissolve disease, but it is a bit jagged and impractical. Pragmatism rounds the edges of actions, makes daily life simple and predictable, gives a platform for the spiritual need for personal expression and transfiguration. What strategies can we use to play the game better, to maximize energy? Where is our common sense?

            Pragmatism could be called ‘productivity,’ ‘efficiency,’ or better still, ‘cycling.’ It is about daily circuits, continually tightening our day, removing clutter, becoming wiser with our time, knowing how to abbreviate.

            One strategy, most extreme in the bipolar, is the natural tendency for build and release. We naturally build a desire for a thing until it grows strong enough to motivate attainment: I wasn’t ready to get a new job then, but now that I’ve been hating this one for a while, the energy has built; I was lonely for months and finally the energy has built to inspire me to meet a new date; I didn’t pay the bills until the energy built to inpsire to beat the deadlines. Energy builds. But to hold off fulfillment, to fast, to wait, to play with abstinence, to focus intently on this until that is dammed and incredible, then I have the power of release, I can overwhelm others with the fury of my passion. My moods pour out like fate: after me comes the flood!

            All ideas are made of abstracted experiences glued together by desire. Not only that, the overall structure of each idea is charged with a valence of desire. Ideas have tension and anxiety: information is never neutral. Each form must be expressed. With enough build up, one achieves exuberance. To put 95% of your power into your challenger's 5% of weakness, you overwhelm him. With low energy, you must know how to slowly build up. How to simultaneously accumulate many wells of power, to continually build your supply is the wisdom of all men, but especially the depressed.

            Doing a thing hollows out a space within the ground of our experience which will fill with the right emotions to inspire us to repeat it. Every idea is like a labeled cup which admits only a given emotion, and finally is poured out when it is full. Have many projects going at once, not only your work and your family, which require much care, engagement, and moments of intimacy, but also continual creativity, with a streamlined regularity, but use also your passions, which must be strands of the same thread, as in a writer who draws, plays music, dances, and sings, all as supports and doublings of that same inner passion to write.

            Build and flood, build and flood. When the flood is upon you, give yourself over to it. That is the divine dispensation, the moment of inspiration: submit to the power as it washes over you, like a swimmer swimming with the current.

            Go with the flow of a mood. Find what work a mood is suited for and use it. If depressed, don’t worry, but ask yourself “what work is this depression cut out for?” Perhaps you are subtle to suffering and can therefore understand it better. When agitated, analyze your faults; you will be more sensitive to them. Don’t waste energy in the friction of fighting a mood. It is a fact: use it.

            Heat dissolves the crystals of ideas and facts. If you have that inner heat, nobody can oppose you, no facts can trip you up: you take them up and subsume them. With exuberance, the circuits melt and set.

            With both love and power, the more you exert, the more you can: gift is gain; we spend into our own bank accounts. Fighting the losing battle as if your life depended on it, never giving up even when defeat is inevitable, is the only way to deepen your will power, whatever the result. The game of life at its most basic is about how forms are used to gain pleasure. That’s the overall structure. Dying, going to the limits of death, teaches us life. Commitment to commitment is the leg we stand on, just as optimism is the leg we step upwards with.

            A character is the structuring of one’s tensions. The muscles, their feel, their stance, our character, are our habits of action. The reward of every good deed, the punishment of every bad, is in the body which remembers them, and in the mind which is forever embodied: you cannot escape yourself, and no god’s blood can wash away who you choose to be. The soul, incarnate in your blood, incarnate in the energy of the self’s atom, repeats itself consistently to the edge of the universe. No goodness escapes its reward, no badness escapes its punishment, for what we do becomes us.

            In this country, the capacity for work is the measure of worth. The first question we ask a man is how he gets his living. It doesn’t matter if he is rich or poor, but how he gets his money, what he does. Character is in our actions – what matter my thoughts or feelings if they profit neither myself nor the world? And yet flow is the essence of beauty and health. The feelings must flow into thoughts, thoughts into words, and words into deeds. Only then do we have a concordance of energy, a confluence of power, a congruence of being. Only then are we real. The Union must be integrated, the mind must preside. When some part accumulates more than it earns this upsets the economy, subverts the system. Beauty is in the flow, in the balance of part against part. Exaggeration is the essence of ugliness. Therefore, we should grow in ways that open more growth, and not grow in ways the cut off more growth. A plant should not sprout quickly if its roots haven’t taken hold. If you grow too specialized so that you are like a bird that can only eat one kind of nut, then you are bound by your beak, and cannot adapt. Flexibility is the nature of youth, the charm of youth; flow is power. What accumulates, what is bound in anxiety, is power wasted, trips up flow, seizes the system. Only when you can act without pause have you mastered life.









Wednesday, July 13, 2011

"pragmatism is economy" a section of an essay

I know that these essays are coming at you faster than many of you can keep up. I wrote them all out over the last few months, and am only now sending them, after I deep edit each of them. I am waiting a couple days between each section, because I want to get them all polished and done so that I can focus only on my next great essay, which I’ve been researching for these last few weeks. I think the next essay will take three or four months to finish, so of course I will be emailing less in the meantime.

Meanwhile, this is the first section on the next strategy of life, pragmatism, which is structuring our habits to make life flow. I would say that I am more creative than pragmatic, so this is a virtue I strive to improve daily.

Take care, Caretakers! Daniel Christopher June


1.      Pragmatism is Economy


            Pragmatism is the practical business of getting stuff done. If creativity is the process which best protects independence, then pragmatism is the virtue that both best protects creativity and also grows from it. Pragmatism is the set of habits that allow efficiency, regularity, economy, so that all the dumb little chores of life get done with minimum fuss. The game of life is about perfecting the little things we have to do – waking early, eating our meals, showering, getting the boring parts of our job done – with a minimum of energy, a maximum of precision, so perfectly and unthinkingly, that they never snag energy from the important things.

            Pragmatism regulates energy. We have only so much care, only so much mental focus. We can get our minds to produce more with exercise (thinking) and diet (study), but ultimately, this energy comes from our emotions, is our emotions, and so a mental hygiene, a healthy heart, is the key to having energy when we need it. The strategies for this include developing methods for life, with creativity yes, but working them out with discipline, sticking to them, working them out. And so pragmatism is a discipline. We require a method, we need to wire emotional circuits, we have to get things done. The game can only be won with a mix of seriousness.

            Energy is in constant flux. The logic of how it moves is based on the Constitution of the man, how he structures the government of his actions. Each man has a constitution which structures his temperament, and sets the economy of his actions in order. Language and money are like blood. They too transfer effort and values, they nourish like blood and smooth like oil. Language coordinates actions between people, exists primarily to control the feelings of others to coordinate action. And so language is made of energy, language is liquid desire, a guiding hand that brings nerve to nerve, touch to touch.










Monday, July 11, 2011

"Creative Space" a secion of an essay

Greetings students of life!

We continue now with the part of the essay “Strategies for the Game” entitled “creativity.” This section is about finding a creative place, a place to create, and a place in every sense, not just a place to do our work, but our creative place geographically and our creative place in history. The creative place --- the workshop, the desk, the study --- is sacred. That is where we are most alive, most human. This section wraps of “Creativity”; next comes pragmatism, which is about doing the daily duties and chores.


Take care, Caretakers!


Daniel Christopher June




6. Creative Space



            Since our game in life is the artist's game of creating worlds, we each require our own secret garden within which to gestate. This sacred place is wherever you can freely create. Buddhist monks would frequent graveyards to be alone and think; Catholic monks preferred cloistered cells. We hold the public and university libraries as sacred. At my house, my study and library are the heart of my universe. I call it my “Hell Aria,” the womb of creativity. The rest of the universe is layer after layer of worlds that matter less to my central project. I love my circles of friends; they are dear. Yet the creative person is jealous of his focus and ruthless with his time. I do not give my friends more than their due: I do not exist for you. If you are so wonderful, exist you for yourselves as I exist for myself; only then will we shine for each other. Come near when I need you, as I will when you need me, for at such times we really do need each other; but when it is time to work, let us draw our eyes towards the task. I require long periods of intense concentration upon my work, and then I can at last relax in my success. You share in this, my friends, you share in my success; you can say of my work "I am proud of it," as if you had a part in it, as one dear woman said to me.

            My world is bisected into times and spaces of creativity. My brain is also dissected into spaces of creativity; the frontal lobes behind my temples are divine and humming with energy. I kiss my friends upon their brows, to consecrate the energy of their creative mind. This is called the kiss of inspiration.

The great blue eye

Of midday sky

Has closed for me

Has closed for me


The inner eye

Of hallowed mind

Now shines for me

Now shines for me


            We close ourselves from the sun of society, though we at times live in the thick of ideas and the people who create them. We must be bipolar in all things, and so also with our solitude. Sometimes alone. Not always. That creative space of my inferior frontal lobes finds wider circle in my Aria, my personal study close at hand, and again, a little farther off, in the larger circle of my city, my hometown of Grand Rapids, which is again a type of the macrocosm, a microcosm for my stomping and loving. I am home here; I am lazy here. Creativity requires excessive time and surplus focus. That is why the sloth is our totem; the sloth, which is slow and thorough, he is sacred,  but so is the raccoon, which is quick and deliberate. Such a city as this does well for me. Best to love your hometown, as Socrates loved Athens. Throughout history the great ages of creativity were fostered in big cities such as

5th century BC Athens

1st century Jerusalem

10th century Arabian cities

15th century Florence

19th century Paris, London, and Vienna

20th century New York City

            and one day…

21st century Grand Rapids 


            Grand Rapids? How unlikely! One sociologist writing on creativity evaluated it to be an uninspired city, on a list of large American cities, nearly the lowest. Yet we must grow from our roots, and make the most of what we have. Great art conceals itself. Perhaps this city is concealing something as well, for though nothing but a thoroughly Christian authorship flourishes here – we have more churches, more seminaries, more Christian publishing houses than any city in the United States – yet something better than Christianity could very well emerge.

            We are now positioned in a moment of greatness. Our time and place is the cauldron of a new style, a fuller style. Consider the creative congruence after World War One, after the collapse of empires. That creative work included

Einstein's theory of relativity

Freud's unconscious

Eliot's free form poetry

Stravinsky's 12 tone music

Picasso's fragmented figures

Joyce's stream of consciousness.


            The creative output of these men resemble each other, for each of them  internalized their zeitgeist. It was a time of disintegration, the opposite of ours, which is the Allistic reintegration. We are the synthesis of each into all.

            In your city, know all the libraries, find the best minds, meet the wisest eyes: feel the density of exciting ideas. You must internalize the system, the entire genre, the domain of your creative world: if you are scientist, know your science; if a poet, know the poetic breath of your time; if a musician, study all the techniques and styles around you. Talk with everybody, seek out inspiration, eat everything—be an utter raccoon of consumption.

            We take it all in and make a new synthesis, we who are the melting pot, mixing races to make the pure race; absorbing all languages into a fully global English. We are pious in our grandiosity. In all our creations we make versions of ourselves. And yet, art is worship. A man is most divine in the action of creating. We recreate ourselves even in mathematical studies, for we translate the abstractness of the problems into the language of our primordial problems. It means something personal to us, what we create. Others can't see it, but our works are pure biography, are living parts of us that continue to live after we pass. Perseverance is success. And we can only persevere in what is personally important to us.

            If our lives are for creating, should we live in the city or in nature? Art corrects nature. And the city is a kind of jungle. Be bipolar: visit both. In a city, a man is fully enwombed in manmade objects: how glorious! Buildings and wires, signs and people; all are spheres of technology. How wonderful! How admirable! And yet when alone in nature, we can see what our Mother has been up to these last few billion years. One is as good as the other; both are good in turn. The creative person studies his problems, living in the world of nebulous concepts and ideas, floating in the abstract, an internal world which slowly distills into pure art. If in the city, then do it there; if in nature, then do it there. Emerson and Nietzsche preferred long nature walks. I love to haunt the library, and roost within my personal study. Mozart would go for long nature walks and imagine his symphonies, saying "Nor do I hear in my imagination the parts of a symphony successively, but I hear all of them at once." Whatever lets you look upon your work Allistically, all at once, lets you understand and comprehend it. Seek that. The environment is the world that opens you like a book, lets the pages of your heart open, lets the light come out. Whatever is home to you will let you be yourself.

            The fantasy world of your art can be realized; discovering the answer requires wandering the labyrinth of your inner thought, such as the fantasy world of Peikoff, Ayn Rand's lackey and disciple, who thought the world was soon ending, as Rand had predicted, because as she said society had betrayed a system of pure capitalism, and so he ordered for thousands of Rand’s books to be hidden in the caves of India and Arabian deserts, knowing that her philosophy would bring about a new world after the destruction of this one—do we not see that the make-believe that allowed this little philosophical world to become a cult?—and this on account of Branden's spell, Branden being Rand’s once adulterous lover and later sworn enemy, for he cheated on her, not with his wife, but with a third woman, which Rand’s Messianic self-image, though Branden had given it to her, after reading her book over 40 times before the age of 17, could not bear, so she crushed him with the very mask he lent her, though he “perfectly embodied the ideal type,” derived ultimately and haphazardly from the Nietzschean overman, though her ideal is much more drained and rationalistic, being only one type to fit in a boringly predictable manner every one of the “good guys” in her novels, for there is essentially one character in all her writing, the Roark type, an analytical macho-man with no tenderness, as Rand herself lacked any modicum of tenderness, for not only did she have no children, but nor did any of her characters have parents or children, nobody gets pregnant, sex is sterile, though in fact the creative mindset is softer and more tender than she realized, but that is to be expected from her, for mass movements subordinate the family instinct, and do I not sense in all this the same instinct for revenge that I too have felt, a sort of revenge perfection, as she sought to be great so as to spite mother Russia, from where she came and where her bitter resentment went, and I would be better than the father who left me, till we both become Shamans, who enact inner experience and inner struggle with our artistic histrionics, or again, we become high priests, as in the  Zoroastrian mystery religion, which enacted the struggle between good and evil in the person of the patron, and we too embody our myths, and live them for the spectacle of the world in our daily actions—don’t lose the thread, Daniel!—remember that I am I am I am I, and I don’t need the Randian bullshit ideals, and I grab the Overman by the horns, and I invent a personal sign language, my gestures mean everything, every nuance of my being is the true ideal to study, it is already in me, I the man of many moods, I the creator, and I boil and burst with ideas, and so require a strong ego to protect me from breakdowns, a philosophy for my madness, for people do not kill to rob, but rob to kill; men do not create for glory and riches, but seek riches and glory to further create, and I build from what went before, centering on myself and yet taking everything in my home and home country as my own, taking America as sacred to my religion, the true American Religion, a nationalist faith because it at last produced me, prepared for me in layer after layer of genius, just as China grew in layers with the metaphysics of Lao Tse, the social theories of Confucius, and the moral focus of the Buddha, so does this country and all countries grow as the maturation of one group mind, the very real and very conscious supermind that is this nation, for Focus is care, and what we care about, what we talk about, is the topic of the group mind, and thus we take ourselves as the embodiment of the world self, and also of the National self, we are both merely human and also more than human, mere mammals but also gods, fed upon angel's milk, for if you know yourself, you will be known, and you will have escaped your labyrinth. And so I come out of myself.

            An introvert seems peculiar. All men respect hard work, but the creator is thought lazy and weird. Perhaps a touch too feminine, if a man, or a touch too masculine, if a woman. We are what we are. Persistence is the key to all creative success: if I had ears for your condemnation, I would sink. Their work is all creative people really care about. That makes us selfish. And so? Perhaps I have taken too much from this country: I only work part time, but I give that and much more back again. Art is power. Just as Martin Luther oscillated between depressed self-criticism and exuberant iconoclastic outflow, so too do we oscillate, and compensate all we take and give, and center ourselves, and center our world. Leonardo and Michelangelo were perfectionists, and would even destroy their work rather than let it be flawed. Forty hours a week on my work hardly seems enough. Aesop's fable of the bird who could not drink from the narrow urn shows our own counterintuitive thought process: to get water out from the urn, the bird dropped stones into it. To get love out of our world, I drop art into it. I am most beneficial to the world when I am most selfish. And therefore I insist on my creative place, and defend it, tooth and nail. I glorify my place, because, ultimately, I am here.