I haven't put anything down to verse in so long, it seems ages. It's evident that I was once possessed a certain poetic zeal that seems to have subsided, or even dissipated. I can be almost sure that it's still there, dormant perhaps. Let's face it, the past couple years have seen such a cathartic release of poems and scribblings, that I might have simply burnt myself out on them. Long have I understood that art in words is not something that can be forced into creation. The poetic intent arises organically, a symbiotic creature in a sense. But where has it been? I used to think in poetry, arranging (or attempting to) my thoughts in verse, but the music of such an expression seems to have quieted in recent months. For nearly 10 years, poems were such an integral part of my continual writing process. Sure I look back in contempt or indifference for a lot of my work, but some I can still read and am incised by their sharp words and culmination of pain and anxiety into structured thought. Maybe that was the journey, maybe that was only a phase over those years to lead me here, into a less abstract state of mind.
To me, poetry's base was always in the abstract, its origin the chaos of the human mind. At times, though, in the very best of the genre, ideas emerge that are quintessential to a sort of basic understanding of our interaction with the world that surrounds us. It puts into words that which eludes us to say because of the brevity of our elaborate consciousness. It grinds down the overwhelming collection of what's in our mind into points that stab with precision in an effort to refine our thinking. All great art does this. The work that is worthwhile is that which illuminates the processes of our existence into the unending panorama of the natural world at large, which we also express in history, science, mathematics, etc. But how often humans simply associate "science" as "nature", when, in fact, science is only our interpretation of these events in nature, as history is the interpretation and analysis of events of the past that have led up to this point, as mathematics is the interpretation of the patterns and design of what we can perceive as our existence. This is, of course, not to say that there is a designer; nature is its own design, a self-fulfilling system.
There is an unfortunate number, however, of people in this world, many in my own country, that choose to believe that nature and our existence cannot possibly be without an external creator. But how could there be a being without being itself? For if god is truly an entity as most of these people believe, there has to have been an origin for such a thing, an origin that supersedes existence itself. To me, that sounds like a total avoidance of the vast majesty of this universe. Instead of simply being in awe and knowing that we are just another blip in macrocosm of time and space, people invented a buffer of sorts to keep that overwhelming status of being completely inconsequential to the universe at bay. There is an understandable fear of being such a small aspect to a system so large, but with the belief that there is an entity that is even greater that, who looks out for us, who created us in his image, who has a set of rules for us, and, most importantly, has imbued us all with a purpose in our lives, makes the frightening possibility that we really are spurious in the face of the totality of existence.
With such a belief, you trade in that intrinsic fear (however unconscious) for obeisance to what you can only imagine in your still evolving head. We are just another small step in the process of life's evolution, a process so vast we can barely understand it. And when people are faced with things they struggle to understand, they often became defensive, and choose to find a protection of sorts to deal with that which they can't comprehend. So instead of attempting to understand the mystery, they become opposed to it, and will follow that which gives them an easy answer, something that doesn't have to let them flounder in possible existential crises. As stated, there is a certain fear of simply being a primate that can talk, living on a giant sphere with other talking primates, spinning around in a dark corner of the galaxy. But is it not that fear that has driven us to greater things than huddling in caves, terrified of the natural world? If we didn't have that fear to overcome, there would have been no need to band together, to learn to communicate, to solve problems, to create tools and harness fire. That fear is just part of the need to survive, possessed by all creatures in some instinctual form. Somewhere along the line, many tens of thousands of years ago, we developed the ability to become aware of that fear and also the faculties to work our way through our inhibitions, to overcome that which could destroy and maim us, were we still the simple primates we started out as. How these abilities came about I doubt there is a real answer for. The power of our frontal lobe in terms of structured thinking and awareness of ourselves is such a unique marvel for humans. The ignorant would call it a "gift from god", but in actuality, it is probably the result of the right collusion of genetics, environment, and time. I don't think we could ever actually discern how this spark of intelligence began to become prevalent in ancient humans' brains, but is it not enough that we simply have it and can utilize it?
It is because of this development that certain groups of early humans were able to migrate from the heart of Africa to nearly every region in the world. I'm in awe to think of tribes making journeys over countless generations to newer and unseen lands, over thousands and thousands of miles, without maps, without written languages, without domesticated animals, without agriculture. How marvelous to think of the epic scope of transformation amongst these people as they dispersed all over the globe, dropping certain physical traits, the genes becoming more specific to the unique tribes, the formation of sounds into language, unifying people even more so into cohesive units. I think of ancient Scandinavians, descending out of the nomadic steppe tribes of Central Asia, who decided to just keep heading North. The impression is that of a group who were not content to stay put but rather to experience what could possibly out there in lands unknown. They had the courage to keep going, all the way to the Arctic circle, so far from equatorial Africa, so far removed from humanity's origin, and they just kept going. I think of those other Central Asian steppe peoples who would go on to found the beginnings of Chinese civilization, arguably the first (certainly in this writer's opinion) while others closely related took similar corridors east, but stayed in the North to resume the nomadic life. People came together after their ancestors traveled for thousands and thousands of miles in possibly as many years in fertile lands in the Wei Valley, wild and unbroken, and began to work together to build what would become society. I won't go into how incredible early Chinese civilization was, how intelligently and creatively they crafted their society. I think of the ancient Polynesians, not satisfied resting in tropical paradises of Indochina, they went further, built simple yet sturdy boats and traversed thousands of miles of treacherous open ocean, to settle across millions of islands, navigating by the stars alone, guided only by wind. Marvelous isn't it? To think how far we have come, to ponder the endeavors of humanity, is absolutely beautiful. The drive to overcome perceived limitations has brought humanity to this point, and it's wondrous to even consider, all the pain, death, strife, and war included in said history. To just have come so far out of cave-dwelling a couple hundred thousand years ago is mind-blowing. A couple hundred thousand years is nothing to the lifetime of this planet, and to have proliferated that much? Now that's miraculous.
"Wonderful where people come from."
-the Preacher, Deadwood
Friday, April 15, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
judgmental prick/beast from the East
In a genre so beset by poseurs and hipsters, it's hard to find new worthwhile metal in this world. I've largely given up on discovering new American metal that's actually worthy of its namesake. But thanks to the Information Age in which we live, I've found at least two acts that are currently profound and interesting music. The first is Tengger Cavalry, which, from what I read, is a one-man band out of China with partial Mongolian ancestry. Long have I been enamored with Mongol history and culture and also with the various peoples that express their musical voice in the form of throat signing. To the average Westerner, I'm sure, throat singing just sounds bizarre and alien, but after immersing myself for so long in this style, the beauty and emotion are latent. Perhaps what stands out most of throat singing is that it sounds inhuman, nothing like what we consider in the West a "beautiful singing voice". I find it closer to black/death metal vocals that have only arisen in the past 25 or 30 years. If we look at the cultures from which these different voices derive, we find some similarities. My theory is that Mongols and Tuvans developed their unique vocals from the seemingly endless years they spent (and still spend) riding the harsh steppes of Siberia and the Gobi, where desolation thrives and human edifices dot not the landscape. There is an overwhelming emptiness here. Life is sparse, wind, earth and sky are everything. It's Mongols who long worshiped the Great Blue Sky and all it encompasses; it was Genghis Khan who wished to unite all of humanity under its banner. For the metal vocals to which I was referring, I'll just stick with Norwegian Black Metal of the late 80's/early 90's. These people found their heritage in the vast forests and frigid mountains of Scandinavia, in the icy fjords and snow that never melts. If we look at their Viking heritage, we find similar people: consummate warriors, great travelers, prone to extreme violence with a mind to conquer, and unarguably tough as nails.
Exhibit A:
Tengger Cavalry's music just takes me away to another world, a place where modern life does not bombard me with constant lies and fake morality. It is a place where survival supersedes all, where life and death's meaning haven't been obscured by boredom-induced neurosis over trivialities. The music is alive with the strife of tribal war cries and the idea that the world is as large as one's horse can take them. I find this fusion not only fascinating, but lasting. I've searched through much Chinese metal, and discovered that most of it is generic and simply emulates the cliches brought about by more mainstream metal. It seems they've simply tried to recreate substandard Western metal, and, for me, does nothing. There's too much uninspired, boring metal as it is. But that's the way it goes nowadays, a broad spectrum to appeal to the masses rather than a deeply introspective and unique take on the genre. For every Burzum, there's a thousand Dimmu Borgirs. What I find most dreadful about most Chinese metal, is that there is no reflection of their culture present in the music. I've gone on about this before, but their history and cultural roots extend much farther than Europeans in terms of civilization, and to me, should be inescapable to the creators. To deny all that seems disingenuous and makes for uninteresting music. Tengger, on the other hand, embraces the rich musical history of his ancestry and has created some absolutely breathtaking and original metal. It just works.
Exhibit B:
As extensive as my love for metal is, death metal was one genre that has really not intersected with my interests until very recently. It's always been there in my periphery, but never really came into the forefront. There always seemed something not all that engaging in it; it appeared to me, in a way, that it was heavy for heavy's sake, without truly creating a profound listening pleasure as did, say, Norwegian Black Metal. Of course, my perceptions of the sub-genre, for the longest time, were bands like Cannibal Corpse and Six Feet Under, who are rather dull. Years ago, I read the anus.com review for Massacra, whose album "The Final Holocaust" they deem as the best album in the style. Say what you will about those at the ol' anus, but when it comes to true and worthy metal, they're above and beyond anyone else on the internet. I recall downloading a couple of Massacra's tracks, not knowing they were from the "Demo '88" version of "The Final Holocaust" and not the album proper from 1990. The definitive versions on the album are far different from the early rough cuts, but both are brilliant in their own way. The "Demo" versions allude to a thrashier origin, more related to the early Slayer idea of mixing NWOBHM and hardcore punk, them speeding up and amplifying the fuck out of it, whereas the official album is undeniably real death metal, a progress fulfilled.
Still, by and large, I'm not as infatuated with DM as much as other metal, but along came Chaotic Aeon out of China, and I felt after listening to it, how I should after most good metal: like my ass has been kicked. DM has been so marginalized since its inception by mainstream "tough guys" who co-opted the riffage to emphasize how bad ass they are, all the while creating garbage music that contributes nothing to the tradition of metal. It's a ploy, a sham, a sad effort those more concerned with creating an image and a style, to convince other (and themselves) that they too can be metalheads, without understanding or respecting the genre itself. But in this time and place: "It's my music, bro, you can't tell me otherwise!" So weak, ineffectual rock band continuously rehash the angular guitar riffs of old metalcore bands like Integrity or Rorschach, all the while their music is actually more akin to pop or it's just a simulacra with the actual intention to just "have fun" and "party", when metal is not about that. At all. Metal has always been for the alienated, the outcast, the ugly, those who can't/don't/won't conform to the sheepish ways of their peers, for those who know that the music the majority loves is just empty and invalid entertainment, meant to keep you sated and satisfied, whereas metal has always been about hungering for more than the scraps you're given by family, religion, society, education, etc. It's not about just accepting people and ideas for who and what they are because that's what this modern liberal society dictates that you do. It's more based on Mongol society in the time of Genghis: merit and what you can bring to the group. If it's honest and intelligent and devoid of ineffectual pandering, then it's accepted. Metal is not pop music; work is not considered important because "Hey, this sounds good", there underlies a deeper meaning to it beneath the abrasiveness and screaming/growling. It's about how a few wolves can decimate and scatter the flock of sheep, not becoming a mindless herd itself.
Exhibit C, just because it's so goddamn good, even better than the original, in this judgmental prick's humble opinion:
Exhibit A:
Tengger Cavalry's music just takes me away to another world, a place where modern life does not bombard me with constant lies and fake morality. It is a place where survival supersedes all, where life and death's meaning haven't been obscured by boredom-induced neurosis over trivialities. The music is alive with the strife of tribal war cries and the idea that the world is as large as one's horse can take them. I find this fusion not only fascinating, but lasting. I've searched through much Chinese metal, and discovered that most of it is generic and simply emulates the cliches brought about by more mainstream metal. It seems they've simply tried to recreate substandard Western metal, and, for me, does nothing. There's too much uninspired, boring metal as it is. But that's the way it goes nowadays, a broad spectrum to appeal to the masses rather than a deeply introspective and unique take on the genre. For every Burzum, there's a thousand Dimmu Borgirs. What I find most dreadful about most Chinese metal, is that there is no reflection of their culture present in the music. I've gone on about this before, but their history and cultural roots extend much farther than Europeans in terms of civilization, and to me, should be inescapable to the creators. To deny all that seems disingenuous and makes for uninteresting music. Tengger, on the other hand, embraces the rich musical history of his ancestry and has created some absolutely breathtaking and original metal. It just works.
Exhibit B:
As extensive as my love for metal is, death metal was one genre that has really not intersected with my interests until very recently. It's always been there in my periphery, but never really came into the forefront. There always seemed something not all that engaging in it; it appeared to me, in a way, that it was heavy for heavy's sake, without truly creating a profound listening pleasure as did, say, Norwegian Black Metal. Of course, my perceptions of the sub-genre, for the longest time, were bands like Cannibal Corpse and Six Feet Under, who are rather dull. Years ago, I read the anus.com review for Massacra, whose album "The Final Holocaust" they deem as the best album in the style. Say what you will about those at the ol' anus, but when it comes to true and worthy metal, they're above and beyond anyone else on the internet. I recall downloading a couple of Massacra's tracks, not knowing they were from the "Demo '88" version of "The Final Holocaust" and not the album proper from 1990. The definitive versions on the album are far different from the early rough cuts, but both are brilliant in their own way. The "Demo" versions allude to a thrashier origin, more related to the early Slayer idea of mixing NWOBHM and hardcore punk, them speeding up and amplifying the fuck out of it, whereas the official album is undeniably real death metal, a progress fulfilled.
Still, by and large, I'm not as infatuated with DM as much as other metal, but along came Chaotic Aeon out of China, and I felt after listening to it, how I should after most good metal: like my ass has been kicked. DM has been so marginalized since its inception by mainstream "tough guys" who co-opted the riffage to emphasize how bad ass they are, all the while creating garbage music that contributes nothing to the tradition of metal. It's a ploy, a sham, a sad effort those more concerned with creating an image and a style, to convince other (and themselves) that they too can be metalheads, without understanding or respecting the genre itself. But in this time and place: "It's my music, bro, you can't tell me otherwise!" So weak, ineffectual rock band continuously rehash the angular guitar riffs of old metalcore bands like Integrity or Rorschach, all the while their music is actually more akin to pop or it's just a simulacra with the actual intention to just "have fun" and "party", when metal is not about that. At all. Metal has always been for the alienated, the outcast, the ugly, those who can't/don't/won't conform to the sheepish ways of their peers, for those who know that the music the majority loves is just empty and invalid entertainment, meant to keep you sated and satisfied, whereas metal has always been about hungering for more than the scraps you're given by family, religion, society, education, etc. It's not about just accepting people and ideas for who and what they are because that's what this modern liberal society dictates that you do. It's more based on Mongol society in the time of Genghis: merit and what you can bring to the group. If it's honest and intelligent and devoid of ineffectual pandering, then it's accepted. Metal is not pop music; work is not considered important because "Hey, this sounds good", there underlies a deeper meaning to it beneath the abrasiveness and screaming/growling. It's about how a few wolves can decimate and scatter the flock of sheep, not becoming a mindless herd itself.
Exhibit C, just because it's so goddamn good, even better than the original, in this judgmental prick's humble opinion:
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman
No, I do not feel that good
When I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief
Perhaps I’d rob them
And now I know you’re dissatisfied
With your position and your place
Don’t you understand
It’s not my problem
I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you
Yes, I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You’d know what a drag it is
To see you
When I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief
Perhaps I’d rob them
And now I know you’re dissatisfied
With your position and your place
Don’t you understand
It’s not my problem
I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you
Yes, I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You’d know what a drag it is
To see you
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Pleroma Pie
Driving home through wind sharpened by ice, I turn on 98.7 in the car, as my cd player has been malfunctioning due to the cold, and I hear a short piano piece, obviously written for the harpsichord or clavier, and for a couple of minutes, I'm absolutely mesmerized by the combination of melody, harmony and skill. Like so many times when I listen to that station, I wait patiently for the end of the piece to find out what it is I just heard. Peter Vandergraaf's baritone voice soberly tells me it's this:
Not ashamed to admit that I thought of tears whilst hearing this. I didn't cry, but I was so moved by this piece, a short and masterful work of the early 1600's in this almost unrelatable modern day. But there is only so much I can say, the real beauty is in the hammer hitting the strings.
Not ashamed to admit that I thought of tears whilst hearing this. I didn't cry, but I was so moved by this piece, a short and masterful work of the early 1600's in this almost unrelatable modern day. But there is only so much I can say, the real beauty is in the hammer hitting the strings.
Monday, December 20, 2010
apparent chaos
Though I'm not the misanthrope I once was, I still maintain a general dislike for most of humanity. Nothing personal, I just view these people by and large according to the Carlin Personality Types: stupid, full of shit, and fucking nuts. Some people are indeed all 3. Yet...I still care, obviously, enough to rant and rave about it to whomever might be so inclined to read. And why? Simple; because you people FUCKING FASCINATE ME. Whether it's someone who exemplifies bold and courageous action, intelligence and wisdom, or supreme idiocy and pointless drivel, I'm ever amazed and perplexed by what I see. And I'm addict for what confounds me. I'm not one to let mysteries go unsolved; I seek to know more than anything. But then again, I'm not really one for incessant questioning, I prefer to discover facts & truth on my own accord. I'm a sucker for questions with no easy answer, or even none at all. But that has its downfalls, of course.
Being lost in a labyrinth can be exhilarating and a gainful challenge, but with it comes frustration, repetition, and the occasional despair. But all the absurdities, all the wastes of time and energy, all the dead ends...they ended up amounting to a worthwhile understanding, something I can't really express here in words, an acquired intrinsic element to my mentality. Not all questions can be solved, but we can attune ourselves to how we deal with apparent chaos in our lives. After all, imperfection is the essence of our existence, making perfection its antithesis. We can only strive for what's real, not what's ideal. Remember to breathe.
"There is no reality
This is a mere dream"
For me, I find the value in hardcore for a sense of outward experience, my demeanor to the world. In metal, I find to truly gain anything from it, it's best for solitary listening, in meditative states. Integrity is where those two roads meet, music simultaneously designed for destructive moshing culminating in an egregious display of "fuck you" to the world and being in communication with the internal consciousness as it transcends the oppressive mind to portray the infinite and inhuman.
Being lost in a labyrinth can be exhilarating and a gainful challenge, but with it comes frustration, repetition, and the occasional despair. But all the absurdities, all the wastes of time and energy, all the dead ends...they ended up amounting to a worthwhile understanding, something I can't really express here in words, an acquired intrinsic element to my mentality. Not all questions can be solved, but we can attune ourselves to how we deal with apparent chaos in our lives. After all, imperfection is the essence of our existence, making perfection its antithesis. We can only strive for what's real, not what's ideal. Remember to breathe.
"There is no reality
This is a mere dream"
For me, I find the value in hardcore for a sense of outward experience, my demeanor to the world. In metal, I find to truly gain anything from it, it's best for solitary listening, in meditative states. Integrity is where those two roads meet, music simultaneously designed for destructive moshing culminating in an egregious display of "fuck you" to the world and being in communication with the internal consciousness as it transcends the oppressive mind to portray the infinite and inhuman.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Say What You Mean
I recently watched Bertolucci's "The Last Emperor" in its entirety for the first time, and within the near 3 hours, one line really stuck in my head. The child emperor asks pedantically one of his favored eunuchs why he must learn to read and write. The eunuch (played by Victor Wong, grandpa from 3 Ninjas!) responds to him calmly: "Because your Majesty, if you can't say what you mean, you will never mean what you say!" I know this phrase, or variations thereof, is a sort of common cliche or proverb, but it intrigues me to think of its origins and place in society.
Immediately I'm reminded of Confucius, who taught actions supersede words and that words should always match the action ("Perfects acts need no words"). For a language I don't speak, I'm utterly fascinated by it. Whereas in English, our thoughts our expressed in combinations of basic phonetic symbols read left to right, top to bottom. Chinese is expressed in symbolic ideograms ranging from a few simple lines to immensely complicated representations, but still only sounded by only one syllable, sometimes two, written perpendicularly to ours, top to bottom, right to left. From what I've gathered in the various novels, histories, and poetry I've read, the words are concise as can be, while expressing complex ideas. Economy of language, which I learned from Ezra Pound years ago, finds its hallmark in Chinese. I think I'm so interested in it because of its diametric opposition to English, a hodgepodge language filled with illogical nuances, that somehow is both extremely effective and highly insufficient in terms of expression. We also seem to be a society that gives far more attention to those well-spoken and wordy rather than those who embrace action first and speak little of it.
I'm not sure why I find myself so engrossed in a culture so far removed from my own in both time and place, but Confucianism just makes more sense to me than the world of Christendom that has encapsulated this hemisphere. In an effort to say what I mean, I would say that I'm a humanist in the original Confucian sense, that we forge our own destiny within our natural world, but not in the modern liberal sense, where the notion that the world is imperfect and somehow owes people idealism. "Certain unalienable Rights" are a very nice, quaint idea, but let's not forget they were drafted by slave owners who also said "all men are created equal". America is a great place to live, don't get me wrong, but we were founded on an inconsistent, contradictory basis. Now we're barely out of the primordial cave, but such is the modern mentality where it seems most people think we've reached our evolutionary apex and things are just great and swell the way they are and they should stay this way, awash in mediocrity the "freedom" to do as you see fit, no matter how idiotic and useless it is, as long as no one gets hurt, right? Evolution isn't linear, we are not moving towards one great human utopia on earth. These things move in cycles, it's about adapting to your environment, a process that will not, that cannot, ever end. But now, people largely seem content just working, buying things, accepting endless indoctrination whether subtle or latent, buying more things, working more to pay for those things, and trying to believe that everything will turn out a-ok, as long as the taxes are paid.
I often think of what it would've been like to know a world without rampant technology, without television, cell phones, internet, recordings of music, central air, indoor heating and plumbing, prepackaged food, etc. To me, it would seem a person lacking all these things would be a more "real" human, a more complete one. We have the option now to give up so much of our lives to technology (not judging here, I do it plenty) in lieu of dealing with reality. There's certainly nothing wrong with technology, in and of itself, it's all in how we deal with it, what uses we make. Seems beyond insane to me that in America within the next 10 years, a majority of people will have or will desire a 3D television, yet we'll still be in the dark on curing major diseases, not killing one another over matters petty and political, and what the hell to do with all these starving homeless clogging up our streets. Americans focus A LOT of attention on trivial matters and doing things simply for fun while the country as a whole shows its fractures.
But ultimately, what does one do? Lament all glaring errors and lose your own life trying to fix everyone's problems? Not give a fuck and just have fun, regardless of reality? Again, I find my answer in a Chinese proverb: "If a man does not discipline himself, he cannot bring order into the home." It all must start within the individual to make a conscious effort to effect civilization into the shared human world.
Also: "To keep things going in a state of ten thousand cars: respect what you do and keep your word, keep accurate accounts and be friendly to others, employ the people in season."
Yet we live in a ferocious and hostile world. How can this be? My guess is that ethics are not fully ingrained into humanity yet. We have them and they make sense on paper, but we're still not at that point where we can be a civil and peaceful populace, if it's indeed possible at all. The only thing one can really do is act civil in their own way and promote benefice in their own natural way. It's simple to be a human, but it's not easy.
Immediately I'm reminded of Confucius, who taught actions supersede words and that words should always match the action ("Perfects acts need no words"). For a language I don't speak, I'm utterly fascinated by it. Whereas in English, our thoughts our expressed in combinations of basic phonetic symbols read left to right, top to bottom. Chinese is expressed in symbolic ideograms ranging from a few simple lines to immensely complicated representations, but still only sounded by only one syllable, sometimes two, written perpendicularly to ours, top to bottom, right to left. From what I've gathered in the various novels, histories, and poetry I've read, the words are concise as can be, while expressing complex ideas. Economy of language, which I learned from Ezra Pound years ago, finds its hallmark in Chinese. I think I'm so interested in it because of its diametric opposition to English, a hodgepodge language filled with illogical nuances, that somehow is both extremely effective and highly insufficient in terms of expression. We also seem to be a society that gives far more attention to those well-spoken and wordy rather than those who embrace action first and speak little of it.
I'm not sure why I find myself so engrossed in a culture so far removed from my own in both time and place, but Confucianism just makes more sense to me than the world of Christendom that has encapsulated this hemisphere. In an effort to say what I mean, I would say that I'm a humanist in the original Confucian sense, that we forge our own destiny within our natural world, but not in the modern liberal sense, where the notion that the world is imperfect and somehow owes people idealism. "Certain unalienable Rights" are a very nice, quaint idea, but let's not forget they were drafted by slave owners who also said "all men are created equal". America is a great place to live, don't get me wrong, but we were founded on an inconsistent, contradictory basis. Now we're barely out of the primordial cave, but such is the modern mentality where it seems most people think we've reached our evolutionary apex and things are just great and swell the way they are and they should stay this way, awash in mediocrity the "freedom" to do as you see fit, no matter how idiotic and useless it is, as long as no one gets hurt, right? Evolution isn't linear, we are not moving towards one great human utopia on earth. These things move in cycles, it's about adapting to your environment, a process that will not, that cannot, ever end. But now, people largely seem content just working, buying things, accepting endless indoctrination whether subtle or latent, buying more things, working more to pay for those things, and trying to believe that everything will turn out a-ok, as long as the taxes are paid.
I often think of what it would've been like to know a world without rampant technology, without television, cell phones, internet, recordings of music, central air, indoor heating and plumbing, prepackaged food, etc. To me, it would seem a person lacking all these things would be a more "real" human, a more complete one. We have the option now to give up so much of our lives to technology (not judging here, I do it plenty) in lieu of dealing with reality. There's certainly nothing wrong with technology, in and of itself, it's all in how we deal with it, what uses we make. Seems beyond insane to me that in America within the next 10 years, a majority of people will have or will desire a 3D television, yet we'll still be in the dark on curing major diseases, not killing one another over matters petty and political, and what the hell to do with all these starving homeless clogging up our streets. Americans focus A LOT of attention on trivial matters and doing things simply for fun while the country as a whole shows its fractures.
But ultimately, what does one do? Lament all glaring errors and lose your own life trying to fix everyone's problems? Not give a fuck and just have fun, regardless of reality? Again, I find my answer in a Chinese proverb: "If a man does not discipline himself, he cannot bring order into the home." It all must start within the individual to make a conscious effort to effect civilization into the shared human world.
Also: "To keep things going in a state of ten thousand cars: respect what you do and keep your word, keep accurate accounts and be friendly to others, employ the people in season."
Yet we live in a ferocious and hostile world. How can this be? My guess is that ethics are not fully ingrained into humanity yet. We have them and they make sense on paper, but we're still not at that point where we can be a civil and peaceful populace, if it's indeed possible at all. The only thing one can really do is act civil in their own way and promote benefice in their own natural way. It's simple to be a human, but it's not easy.
Monday, December 6, 2010
3 Tenets
Address blind faith.
Challenge hypocrisy.
Correct ignorance.
Wherever you go.
It took years, but I now relish it when my ideas are challenged and people tell me I'm wrong. One's conceptualized thoughts can only grow so much inside the mind; they must be put out there, they must face defiance. Without rivalry, stagnation occurs. Without enemies, there are no heroes.
All things maintain a natural aversion. Best not to try to escape it, lest we lose our own reflection.
Challenge hypocrisy.
Correct ignorance.
Wherever you go.
It took years, but I now relish it when my ideas are challenged and people tell me I'm wrong. One's conceptualized thoughts can only grow so much inside the mind; they must be put out there, they must face defiance. Without rivalry, stagnation occurs. Without enemies, there are no heroes.
All things maintain a natural aversion. Best not to try to escape it, lest we lose our own reflection.
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