In this entry and the next, I look at the relationship between science, magic… and what we think they are. First, I reveal the ignorance of science as it does not care about first-hand knowledge and emotional experience, but only theory and description. Are not our very emotions a result of these processes which we treat with such logical indifference?
Different humans can have very different perspectives on things. In many conflicts, it’s never enough to just point out the facts and agree upon them. That’s not what those conflicts are about, and yet some people just won’t understand that. Why?
Well… fact, or information, is power. This has — naturally — given much power to information. And what is information all about? I’ll tell you. It’s about 0 and 1. Black and white. North and south. Jedi and Sith. All information is either valid or invalid. Information, the great power of our time, doesn’t care about anything else.
This is the inconvenient truth that sometimes, bad things happen, and if you don’t realize it, it will only get worse. Sometimes we even have to save ourselves from ourselves. That is when we must stand up to our own feelings and relieve ourselves of involuntary torments. That, or live our lives in fear and distress.
Throughout life, people bond. Not only with eachother, but perhaps even more so with all they experience. We bond with memories, with emotions, habits, norms and with ourselves.
Bonds form, and bonds break. Many break because they were weak, and they make space for greater bonds, and we do not even notice. Meanwhile, some bonds are much stronger, and will become a background for our life for a long time to come. New bonds will be made on top of these strong bonds, and rely on them to hold.
They do not always hold. Even strong bonds can break; and whether they connected us to other people, to a daily life we used to have, to our place of birth or even to a scent or a color — the feeling is much the same. The difference lies only in the nature of the bond and what we can do about it. Naturally, the death of someone we know is hardest because we have the strongest bonds with them, and nothing can bring them back.
Throughout my life, I have often been deviant. There are things I never understood, interests I never shared, phases I never visited. Luckily, I didn’t mind much being left alone, to do the things I wanted the way I liked.
Still, I have often contemplated on having missed out on several years of my life. Years I could’ve learned what all the others did, years I could’ve understood them and the world better. Instead of being alone in my room, I could’ve been in the company of good friends, doing something we all liked doing together. And in the presence of these good friends, I could’ve grown more as a human being.
Why ever do we care, when all the castles we build, fall down eventually? Perhaps the point isn’t a happy ending, but a memorable adventure.
Life isn’t fair. Life hurts, stings, cripples. Life is a bitch and you can’t deny it. All our fights will be in vain, all effort will be erased, all will fall back to mercilessness. Cold logic is the way of it all, and cynicism is the way to accept it. There is no other option.
So goes the words of a dead man.
So what if resistance is futile? So what if there can never be a paradise on earth? So what if good things don’t last? At least they’re good while they do. It’s not the end result that matters, but what happened underway.
Machinae Supremacy’s latest album rocks my ears and brains and loudspeakers and makes me want to dance.
The album tells me this: There’s always something to fight for. If you lack concrete things to devote your attention to (which a lot of us do, I daresay), then fight to remove that very fact! Fights in this sense are always fights for better days. Yet we look upon today’s human society, and we acknowledge that we’ve got everything and even that is not enough. This depresses us and makes us believe that there are no “better days”. So we forget and ignore that insistant feeling we have inside, the promise of wonder and happiness. We think things can’t improve, and so there is nothing to fight for. That’s when we need to fight to reactivate that wondrous feeling, fight to start believing again, fight to create something to fight for.
And somewhere across that line we might come to realize that the fight itself is the whole point.
The world is full of possibilities, of treasures and pitfalls. I implore you to forget the latter and aim for the former, or you might find yourself going in the wrong direction altogether.
So many possibilities. So many worlds. So many futures.
Which will I live? What have I got to choose from? Is the choice even mine?
How many joys have I forsaken already, what happiness have I excluded?
And if I were born in another time? Or on another planet, or in another universe altogether?
Believe it or not, this kind of thinking actually makes me feel very secure. I suppose it is because it removes my worries about the life I actually lead, it takes focus away from here and now. I am a dreamer. At least, I was, once. Not too long ago. I haven’t dreamt all that much the past year. But I want to dream again. For without dreams, there is only here and now, and currently that’s not all that exciting and adventurous.
This post tells about the need to have a safe home to come home to, the insecurity of not having one, and what you need to make one.
I’m not content right now. I’ve got this vague feeling like something needs fixing, something that’s gone wrong somewhere but that nobody’s noticed. It’s like the world used to be run properly, but then we all started neglecting it to stress over less important matters instead, and now we’ve all forgotten how it was and how it used to be run. I feel I should do something, I feel I should take control and make things work again, show people that the happiness of the past can return not only in our minds.
But things seem so different now, so much more complicated. Complication has tainted my mind, and ignorance has become a habit. I can see it happening and I work against it, but I cannot help but be carried away by the huge current. I knew once that there were refuges on top of the water, many of them. Refuges built on happiness, joy and friendship, built by those who share it, who know it and who can give it. Those refuges still exist, in new forms, for others, but I shy away from them. I do not feel at home in them. I visit sometimes and it inspires me greatly, for a while, but overall I’ve become an outsider.
Having returned from an inspiring adventure, I am now ready to resume using this journal.
Drastic events and changes have befallen me since I last put some work into making an entry. But all in all I am still the same, possibly even more so, and I am now of a better and more purposeful design.
On my adventure I saw things that I thought could lie ahead of me. I sought and longed for these things, these myriads of premonitions and daydreams. But I was mistaken as to where the paths to them lay, and who they involved. What I saw exists further on through time, but I still do not know in which direction.
Actually, the dreams did not start alongside this adventure. For they were and are just that; dreams. Like all people have, like we all strive for. For years and years they’ve whispered to me hope and promises of especially happy days and moments, and for years I’ve never known how to reach them. I haven’t even always believed I ever could reach them. Tired of this state of being out of reach of my own dreams and desires, I jumped on a passing train that felt very right. Here, the dreams thrived and multiplied, and I felt my path was set. But the train brought me into unknown lands, lands where my power waned, where the columns supporting me — columns I have built and maintained — would erode and leave me helpless. And they did, for a while, and I let them. I wanted to see where the train went.
Sometimes, if feels as if one’s attitude converges towards cynicism. There’s always someone able to thwart your hopes with due right. But what if there is a seperation between fact and feeling, and what if cynicism is just one of many emotional perspectives?
A large part of the world has gone blind. Cynical. Bitter. Cold and depressed. There are a whole lot of people who concider themselves to be “honest” or “truthful”, and all they know and tell is misery. All of the things that are wrong in the world – suffering, selfishness, abuse, brutality and corruption. I sense we’re in a pessimistic period where noone trusts their own governments. I wouldn’t say it’s bad to be critical, but it’s funny how we’re never happy with it and how we always see the bad sides of all actions taken by the controlling forces.
Many people have a perception of the world as a rotten apple, full of corruption and only negative sides.
It’s so strange that we never wonder WHY we think so. Why are we unhappy with the world? It’s because we imagine what would be better and we want it to be that way. Most humans on the face of this planet wants the world to be a better place. Doesn’t that mean, symbolically, that we have a core of goodness?