Reflections on looking up
For the entirity of human history, we have and been promised that we all will go "up". Let loose the mortal coil and ascend into the heavens. Where this is something to be said that this is a very powerful motif, "Why does taking the human spirit further necessarily mean up?", what kind of a promise is that at all?
We all, in a sense, fight, fuck, steal, love, laugh, speak, do all the activities that make up the grand tapestry that is the human endeaveor not for grand and noble reasons or basic, biological urges, but maybe we do it just to get our minds off the thing that is breathing down our neck. This promise that we've made isn't a very reassuring one, in fact in application it's very frightening. Where humanity finds beauty in the new perspective of reaching the heavens, our souls call out to each other. The heavens are vast, empty, and ultimately very lonely.
In terms of Nietzsche, both the utmost Apollonian and Dionysian in us, the persuit of pleasure or of substance, could be seen as diversionary. We all seem to make ourselves too busy to ask the question that drips cold on the back of your neck when you are at your weakest. It's the dark thing that terrifies you when you don't even understand what your afraid of. It's the dreadful thing that makes your soul ache even more as you cry. I doubt any person could name it, for who would want to even take the time to give it one.
Our barrier to it could be qualified as so many things. Someplaces you seen that this "barrier" is quite thick and abandon in things is rampant. Others you see the "barrier" is quite thin and people go to great measure to find ways to put miles between themselves and whatever haunts them.
Losing a lover, losing a friend, confronting the unknown, living with a somber notion, all these things draw us closer to whatever I feel is behind the thin promises of bliss in the sky. Maybe it's nothing to be afraid of at all. Maybe my vague terror will break like a fever. The only thing the preoccupies me now a days is that I can see, unspoken, in everyone I look at the variously quanties of anxiety towards this thing I can not name.
We all, in a sense, fight, fuck, steal, love, laugh, speak, do all the activities that make up the grand tapestry that is the human endeaveor not for grand and noble reasons or basic, biological urges, but maybe we do it just to get our minds off the thing that is breathing down our neck. This promise that we've made isn't a very reassuring one, in fact in application it's very frightening. Where humanity finds beauty in the new perspective of reaching the heavens, our souls call out to each other. The heavens are vast, empty, and ultimately very lonely.
In terms of Nietzsche, both the utmost Apollonian and Dionysian in us, the persuit of pleasure or of substance, could be seen as diversionary. We all seem to make ourselves too busy to ask the question that drips cold on the back of your neck when you are at your weakest. It's the dark thing that terrifies you when you don't even understand what your afraid of. It's the dreadful thing that makes your soul ache even more as you cry. I doubt any person could name it, for who would want to even take the time to give it one.
Our barrier to it could be qualified as so many things. Someplaces you seen that this "barrier" is quite thick and abandon in things is rampant. Others you see the "barrier" is quite thin and people go to great measure to find ways to put miles between themselves and whatever haunts them.
Losing a lover, losing a friend, confronting the unknown, living with a somber notion, all these things draw us closer to whatever I feel is behind the thin promises of bliss in the sky. Maybe it's nothing to be afraid of at all. Maybe my vague terror will break like a fever. The only thing the preoccupies me now a days is that I can see, unspoken, in everyone I look at the variously quanties of anxiety towards this thing I can not name.
posted by P.M. Richets at 12:04 AM
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