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.

Daniel

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3. Emotional Placeholders (part 1)

Earth-Heart1.jpg

                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.

 

~~

Perfection

Is

Easy

 

perfectidius.com

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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.

 

 

~~

Perfection

Is

Easy

 

perfectidius.com

~~

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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.

 

Daniel

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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.

 

~~

Perfection

Is

Easy

 

perfectidius.com

~~

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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.

 

 

~~

Perfection

Is

Easy

 

perfectidius.com

~~

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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

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6. Creative Space

 

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            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.

 

 

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Perfection

Is

Easy

 

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Monday, July 4, 2011

"Metaphor Mind" a short essay

Greetings Students of Life!—

 

Here is the next section from the part of my essay “Strategies for the Game” on creativity. After this, I look briefly at madness and its relationship to creativity, and then look at how to establish a creative space. Here I introduce what I talk of at length in another essay: the part of the mind that makes metaphors to understand the world. Here I establish its centrality to creativity. Later I will explore elaborate personal myths and rituals which use this capacity.

 

Take care, caretakers!

 

Daniel Christopher June

 

 

4. Metaphor Mind

 

art - spirit_flight.jpg

            Genius is a high capacity for analogy. Metaphor alone, and the metaphor mind, mark distinct the higher intellect. We all have a metaphorical mind which gets a sense of the form of things, and matches like to like. The sciences and arts are both inspired by metaphors, one testing them with experiments, the other with aesthetic effect. William James identified Plato and Shakespeare as the ultimate synthesis of the poetic and the scientific analogical approaches.

            We ought to transform all instances of experience into the one form of our personal project in life. The serious writer should make an academic study of, say, the symphonies of Beethoven or Tchaikovsky. Each poem is many poems; all language can be broken into rhythm charts, vowel patterns, clause lengths, topic variation, and such other such things. Studying pure music complicates a writing style.

            Necessity creates the basic shape of what we need. What better saying is there than “Necessity is the Mother of Invention”? Genius is the father. We invent the concepts we need. And to study any and every philosopher, merely identify his terms and ask what personal crisis led him to that particular formulation. We assume ideas from personal experience, shape them into mental furniture, adorn the mansion of our thinking habits with them, equip each moment with its own tool box, a set of concepts to address every object and situation.

            A thing is more meaningful, important, and significant the more it expresses certain clichés, stereotypes, regularities, combined with their own self overcoming: these comprise the basic myths. Wrap the mirror back on itself. A concept can be stretched in two directions: to its extreme reach, and back on itself.

            The writer is akin to every artist, and every man, in that the stuff of his art can structurally parallel or complicate what it refers to. A sentences is a structural unit of logical relationships. Likewise, all of reality breaks into units of identity. Every being contains parts which are also beings, down the to the infinite energy of the smallest part, which makes everything else possible, which makes possible even the mind of consciousness. The perfect writer knows how to make the form of the sentence imitate the form of his whole, to trouble the logic of his clauses with the structure of their interrelationship. We establish a few forms and strategies as the mental toolbox. Some men are square structured and practical, other are unstable and flowing.

            Form is compulsion. The mere structure of a form, once internalized, demands profligation. Beautiful forms demand expression; having consciously internalized a form, we need speak it, repeat it. We internalize all sorts of forms, and combine them into concepts. The entire universe can be viewed as an arrangement of energies taking on different forms, and our own emotions as energies awaiting the correct expressible form.

            What we say the most, what we do the most, becomes a typeset for all other things. The everyday common things are not denied or judged by the exceptional moments, but shed off those few exceptional moments like a skin to hold the normal and unexceptional in place. How do you structure your experience, and what new experience will improve this?

            We can’t help but express the forms we internalize, but we can alter and master the forms we comprehend. Understanding is the ability to put something in your own words. Comprehension is the ability to abbreviate and summarize. “Every man’s condition is a solution in hieroglyphic to those inquiries he would put.” To be able to summarize our lives into stories, parables, and cautionary tales lets us educate our future self, lets us educate our friends and family.

            To contemplate a form is to hold the shape of that form even when it is gone, is to fold the sphere of consciousness into its contours, so the mind is that form. When we are accustomed to it, we take the grasp of it as normal. For instance, a cutter working all day with diamonds handles his other problems as if they were little bits of gem. The surgeon puts the scalpel even to his marital problems. The hunter patiently awaits his opportunity to shoot.

            Trauma implants form. Significant experiences redefine all other experiences, like food color working through dough. A molested child seldom has only one assault. Having experienced the sexual situation, she becomes more vulnerable to it happening again, even in an unrelated instance. Every experience both puts a twist on the previous ones, sculpting our memories, and changes the lenses by which we take in new experiences.

            A thing is not itself until it becomes something else. An experience is not useful until it has been transfigured into a concept. When a story becomes a parable, it approaches becoming a universal idea. When we take a form out of a thing, that form becomes language, a stamp we may imprint up on the clay of all things. The pessimist lives in a different world than the optimist. Neither world is right or correct, both serve needs, both must be respected.

            Forms reproduce themselves through system. The center of the system holds the allform, the DNA, the informer and conformer. The language of the Constitution of the United States, the Declaration of Independence, “the Gettysburg address,” the Federalist Papers, are at the center of the American mind, work throughout our system, conform the full stature of the States to one Nation. They are a sort of DNA to our Republic. A worldview is a language. The language of importance is the tone and terms we adopt when addressing The Importance. Scripts, routines, and rituals implant these forms into the minds of youth. That is all they are for. Every worldview is a lifestyle. It is important that we all conform to a few shared values, but also seek our own personal values as well. The former is necessary for the group self, the latter necessary to the personal self: two layers of many within the full self of me in the universe.

            Some forms get smoothed over with such desire that the information they contain no longer fascinates. It no longer snags the mind, it is easy. The mind uses the form unthinkingly, which is handy and good. Many of us don’t question our religion, the nature of Civil Law, the fitness of marriage, the structure of our furniture, or any other everyday taken-for-granted object. For to ponder all things always is to stun our ability to decide. The world is strange, confusing, bizarre, imposing, but we don’t know it, because we take it as normal. The hard edges of wire have been covered over with smooth clay. Nevertheless, wisdom is the ability to see the ordinary in the extraordinary, and the extraordinary in the ordinary. By taking in foreign forms – perhaps reading the Tao Te Jing or the Koran, or looking at a Zen garden, or whatever else is distant from you – you break apart the everyday forms. Our daily language, our clichés and every day sayings, are deeply rich when deeply understood. But sometimes we need to take the tools of a foreign tool box to break them apart, to see the metaphors buried within them, to liberate the energy in each form which holds it together, just as food energizes us only when we chew it to pieces. We can decongest everyday life when we no longer take the normal as unworthy of study.

            Ideas are so many lenses and mirrors, reflecting the light of experience into consciousness. It is as if all deep concepts were glass, transparent in themselves, but bending reality into a special focus. The name of a thing is a powerful lens. An essay, a symphony, a person, is almost defined by the title, name-nickname, or reputation that has congealed around its head like a halo. Our attitude about a man determines what facial expressions and stances will appear before our mind when we hear his name.

            Transposing forms reveals hidden essences. Metaphors, titles, nicknames, and jokes reveal the hidden pith of a soul, the tone and tenure of the soul’s blood. Every man is transfigured, every man has his moment. I am most fully Daniel in a few instances, when the layers of politeness and conformity peal away like unnecessary garments, and my divinity stands nude.

            What gives a form identity? What makes it itself? How is my inner self structured, so that I am ultimately me? For if all reality is made of matter, and matter is eternal, then form is the ultimate reality. Forms change – is this not an objection against eternity? Yet we have a sense of the wholes and parts, and the idea of a whole may be its entire reality. If a car is repaired part by part, at what point is the car no longer the original? Perhaps the mere idea of that car is projected onto it. For an idea is an energy made large through brain structures. Merely the idea that a thing is itself, that the mind is the same mind throughout our lifetime, even if you suffer brain injury, maybe even if you die, is all the eternity you need. Not God, but Mind, offers the promise of eternal life.

            For most people, forms and structures are known and usable, but only unconsciously. We can do a lot because we absorb the forms of our environment at the job we figure out how to talk, what to do, we absorb what is expected of us and take the role of worker readily. Most people learn quickly, take the forms and subtle cues from their environment. The philosopher plays the game differently. He gives the forms names, shapes them into concepts, makes them consciously thinkable, verbally speakable. The philosopher alone can say what he knows, though the others are neither able to nor need to. But the philosopher also has the powers to invent new forms, to analyze the old, to extract the gold from any ore, for his conceptual tools let him play a more subtle game. He knows best that each private life, no matter how normal and everyday, is a goldmine of ideas. Life is fractal. My full book also resides in each sentence, each paragraph, which are like veins and arteries to carry the blood of my soul, and like blood, all things are mixed together, for as blood moves oxygen, nutrients, antibodies, hormones, and wastes, all to their correct place, so my style – I call it the allistic style – conveys all things at the same time in the same place. The genre is language, but then all art is language. Grammar codifies beings, becomings, and logical relationships: the noun, the verb, the preposition. So much of language is mere framing, mere set up, for the one or two moments of true intimacy. Perhaps a whole drama is mere set up and alibi for the true moment. Perhaps that true moment isn’t known, but felt deep down.

            The job of learning, of knowing, of realizing forms, is the scholar’s payment in this life. Suffering is superficial. Life is about growing in power and love, is about mastering forms. The way to play the Game is to be able to hold metaphors as handles on reality. Each mood is like a room in the mental mansion. Each room has its own furniture, its own tools. Some concepts work like microscopes, getting at subtle, small, intricate facts; other tools work as telescopes, getting at the remote.

            Mastering verbal form is like mastering music. Beethoven’s symphonies often transition by radical leaps between disparate keys, with a small but perfect phrase which knows how to bring you there. In writing, you can gracefully get from an X to any Y, with the ingenuity of a transition. Consider the structure of the whole against the microstructure of the parts. The microscopic structure of style can hold the clue to transferring ideas. In the same way, life is made up of what we think of all day. To be able to focus intently on each part requires a metaphorical grasp of what we are looking at, to segment it off as This Fully Now. We must learn how to revere intent focus.

            To have a sacred, personal or public, you must know how to adore. To be able to set a given thing as personally sacred for you, utterly important, an image of Importance, is the ability to become a priest and bestow blessings. No religion is necessary, but merely taking the conceptual tool which religion worked out for centuries of setting a thing apart. Your language will protect it. Know how to revere, protect, hide, and glorify a thing. If writing is your blessing on the world, love it, honor it, never denigrate it. If dancing is it, or whatever else, then do the same.

            As the incarnation of Allism, as the representative of it, in accordance with Ama, the face of Mother All, I seek especially to put my roots down in the nation of my birth, not to recommend that all men love America, but that they love their own birthplace, glorify the details of their own becoming, to celebrate most what they are, without denying the glory of the planet and the whole universe as well. The music of the spheres is in loving a thing for what it is, loving myself as myself, my family as my family, my city as my city, my nation as my nation, mankind as mankind, life as life, the universe as universe, honor to the honorable, love to the lovely, respect to the respectable.

            And so I internalize American forms, sinking the roots of my World Tree deep beneath the soil of my very feet, drinking in the forms which the ancient ideas assume passing through our minds, reading Emerson daily, studying Whitman in the outdoors every season, analyzing William James, figuring out the music of Charles Ives, admiring and emulating the structuralism of the architecture of Wright, and balancing them all against the foreign ideas of Nietzsche, the Gospel of Thomas, the Tao Te Jing, the Norse Eddas.

            There are many layers of form in every meaning, as if each concept were a geological column in which different fossilized critters had solidified in the layers of rock. Except they are alive, and vital, and merely await identification to add life to what I use them for.

            All of life is creative, and the creative life is the liveliest of all. To ever create, to make your own birthday cards, your own birthday cakes; to study law, imposing new systems and tables over it; to sing in the morning, dance at noon, the meditate at night; to beautify all you touch, to recreate all forms and experiences into your own; to copyright the universe; this is the life of glory, the divine life, the life of an incarnated god.

 

~~

Perfection

Is

Easy

 

perfectidius.com

~~

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Saturday, July 2, 2011

"Metamethod part 2" a short section of an essay

This short section wraps up my ideas on having a METAMETHOD, or a method for making the methods of life. I look a little at the methods I’ve used lately. The next section will be about the metaphor mind.

Take care, Caretakers!

 

Daniel Christopher June

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3. Metamethod (part 2)

 

Michelangelo - Rebellious Slave.JPG

            When the eyes stare at the same object too long, the physical eyes as well as the mental, they grows accustomed to it, and take that object as a norm. The experience of an object is the mind in the shape of it, so the more it grows familiar with an object – say, the object of the work place, or the marriage, or the personal dispute, or some sport, or a friend, or a mood – the more that object becomes the norm and standard. Decorate cakes all day, and for the first few weeks on the job, you get flashes in your imagination of mistakes you’ve made, even when you’re at home mowing your lawn, or in bed reading Whitman, or taking a shower. It is as if the version of me as decorator were a sculpture, a living sculpture I put on at work, and slowly I hammer its gross shape, and then chisel away the fine detail, with my mind slowly internalizing all the nuances of the job as quickly as possible, and yet letting my perfectionism have full swing, doing everything in the best form I can, inventing proper form for myself, and working finer and finer at exactitude. Now that I am home, when I blink, I see cakes. When I return to my real being as writer, there is still frosting on my fingers. New to the job, I must stress over the criticisms and complaints of my boss and coworkers; only when I have fully internalized them and know how to match, appease, or flaunt expectations will I have mastered them.

            For wisdom, stupidity is as necessary as intelligence. To go slowly, to make every step conscious, is to put the new habit into the hands of the clumsy but ambitious mind. Only if you are humble enough to be stupid can you become wise enough to be proud. Train yourself to look at a thing. The basis of study skills, of intelligence, is in mastering the eyes, to teach them not to blink – I mean this literally as well as figuratively – to keep your eye on the ball, even though the shock of contact would make you wince. Knowing how to keep your eyes focused, to look the problem with level interest, to peer into the soul of form, is the secret of intelligence: the mind follows the eyes.

            When you meditate in front of the mirror, note how your eyes move in response to ideas. The mind learns focus from the play of the eyes.

 

~~

Perfection

Is

Easy

 

perfectidius.com

~~

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