“Only in America can you be pro-death penalty, pro-war, pro-unmanned drone bombs, pro-nuclear weapons, pro-guns, pro-torture, pro-land mines, and still call yourself ‘pro-life.’”—John Fuegelsang (via companyofyou)
There is a secret bond between slowness and memory, between speed and forgetting. Consider this utterly commonplace situation: a man is walking down the street. At a certain moment, he tries to recall something, but the recollection escapes him. Automatically he slows down. Meanwhile, a person who wants to forget a disagreeable
incident he has just lived through starts unconsciously to speed up his pace, as if he were trying to distance himself from a thing still too close to him in time.
In existential mathematics, that experience takes the form of two basic equations: the degree of slowness is directly proportion to the intensity of memory; the degree of speed is directly proportional to the intensity of forgetting.
”—Milan Kundera, from Slowness (HarperCollins, 1996)
I could say and write all the words I wanted, and it still wouldn’t completely convey my emotions. In fact, the more I say and write, the more words needed to convey the previous words. Similar to Zeno’s paradox, I can’t catch up to what I want to say until I convey the words in between; then I reach the halfway point, only to realize that there are more words in between that halfway point and the goal; and then there’s more to convey in between the ‘halfway point of the last halfway point' and the end; and so on and so on. The only way to have ever said what I wanted could be conveyed only without words: a kiss, the interlocking of fingers, the embrace, the gaze, the smile. and tears.
I think there is often some ‘saving power’ left when things go awry. I obsess of it, especially when I’ve invested my whole being into it’s past. I think of all the ways I can save it. I spend hours online looking up flight information, jobs in other cities, the possibility of transferring to other schools. I think to myself, just how bad would it actually be if I changed my lifestyle again? I wouldn’t die obviously. There are choices to be made, and I can make them. The saving power is in the action itself, so long as I am able to be able. And after hours of obsessing, I mentally and emotionally break down, and I realize that I’m possibly fooling myself. And I shut it all down only to return to the same obsession the next day. Maybe I’m too full of hope; there’s too much of it. I’m suppose to take responsibility of actions which sometimes implies simple endurance of a mess. This is the same line of reasoning that ‘pro-lifers’ tell women who have unwanted pregnancies. They tell them to take responsibility for their actions and deliver their child after 9 months. Now I’m not definitely comparing myself to a pregnant woman. That line of reasoning just seems to overlap from issue to issue. It just doesn’t seem clear how we interpret ‘taking responsibility’ in our decisions. Is it defined as accepting our actions? Or is it defined as taking new actions to correct or alter? Maybe it depends on how much you believe you have or should have control. I don’t know… I just know that it hurts to have worsened something than it already is/was. It hurts even more to wake up and officially lose a huge chunk/portion of your overall meaning for waking up. As soon as I woke up, I remembered one of the most important thing I lost. And I’ll remember it tomorrow morning. And the morning after that. And the morning after that…
“It’s not the kind of sadness to where you cry all the time, but more of like the sadness that overwhelms your entire body, leaving you heart aching and your stomach empty. Making you feel weak and tired. And yet, you can’t even sleep cause the sadness is in your dreams too. It’s almost a sadness you can’t escape.”—(via wordsthat-speak)
“In general, people are not drawn to perfection in others. People are drawn to shared interests, shared problems, and an individual’s life energy. Humans connect with humans. Hiding one’s humanity and trying to project an image of perfection makes a person vague, slippery, lifeless, and uninteresting.”—Robert Glover (via hyperdimensionalkittens)
“In conversation you’ve got your vis-à-vis’s last statement— but when you simply ponder, why, your ideas just succeed each other like magic-lantern patterns and each one forces out the last.”—F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned (via mamalovebone)
“Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire.”—Jorge Luis Borges (via fernsandmoss)
“Well, I think that when you have a connection with someone, it never really goes away, you know? You snap back to being important to each other because you still are.”—Alex Vause, from Orange Is The New Black (via violentwavesofemotion)
“Just as in earthly life lovers long for the moment when they are able to breathe forth their love for each other, to let their souls blend in a soft whisper, so the mystic longs for the moment when in prayer he can, as it were, creep into God.”—Soren Kierkegaard (via purplebuddhaproject)
“I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations—one can either do this or that. My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it—you will regret both.”—Soren Kierkegaard (via purplebuddhaproject)
“In general, I try to distinguish between what one calls the future and “l’avenir.” The future is that which - tomorrow, later, next century - will be. There’s a future that is predictable, programmed, scheduled, foreseeable. But there is a future, l’avenir (to come), which refers to someone who comes whose arrival is totally unexpected. For me, that is the real future. That which is totally unpredictable. The Other who comes without my being able to anticipate their arrival. So if there is a real future beyond this other known future, it’s l’avenir in that it’s the coming of the Other when I am completely unable to foresee their arrival.”—Jacques Derrida (via johnshadenumber2)
Some reorganized notes from my last class; ..."I do not exist."
One of the examples of the Sorites argument of Decomposition (as argued by Peter Unger)…
1. There exists at least one table. 2. For anything there may be, if it is a table, then it consists of many atoms, but only a finite number. 3. For anything there may be, if it is a table (which consists of many atoms, but a finite number), then the net removal of one atom, or only a few, in away that is most favorable & innocuous (harmless to the table’s integrity/existence), will not mean the difference as to whether there is a table int he situation.
So, if I have a table, clearly made up of fundamental atoms, I claim that there indeed exists a table in front of me. Imagining that I could remove one atom at a time from the table, I apply these three premises upon each time I remove an atom. I take one atom away from the table (that is most innocuous and favorable) and there is no question that the table is still in existence. The removal of this one atom does not destroy the table, nor change it into something that is not a table. The object in question is still a table after the first few (possibly few hundred removed atoms). The idea is that the table should still exist each time I follow these three premises (primarily because it should be possible to remove atoms in the most harmless and non-disruptive way possible).
If it is a table at the time prior to the removal of the first atom (as number 3 suggests), then one removal of an atom will not destroy or change the table into a non-table. So after the removal of the first atom, it is still a table. Prior to the next removal of the second atom, I see that the object is still a table, and proceed to remove the next atom. I still see that after the second removal of another atom, the object that was once a table is still a table. Now I aim to remove another atom (a third atom) from the table. Remembering that it is still a table, I proceed to remove a third atom. And again, the table that I removed the third atom from is still a table. We proceed until we get to only a few atoms. Due to the gradual change of the object, there isn’t really a point at which we say that the table is no longer a table. The object just keeps shrinking (remember that we remove the atoms in a way that is the least harmful, disruptive, and favorable keeping to the supposed identity of the table). So now we’re down to only a few atoms left. Of course, we could look in hindsight and say, “Oh it’s not a table anymore.” But, that’s not the logic we followed. If we followed our reasoning down the continuous removal of the atoms form the table, it followed that we affirmed that the object we pulled an atom from every time was still a table. Eventually, we get down to just one atom, and yet again, the argument insists that the object in question is still a table. Now we finally remove the last atom, but we disturbingly find that the argument still insists that a table exists. But clearly, no table exists in front of us. We have now reduce the table to an absurd conclusion: The table is said to still exist, but it really does not exist. Thus, by exposing the a fallacy in the argument (reductio ad absurdum), we must reject the original premise #1 which said, “There exists at least one table.” By an indirect proof, we have shown that no table exists from the beginning. If we agree with every premise (1,2,3), we must be willing to accept that by indirect proof, there has never existed a table to begin with, nor could it ever have existed, nor will it ever exist in the future. Substitute ‘table’ for anything else, and you get the same result. The point being, is that you do not exist; I do not exist.
Of course, there are plenty of counter arguments. You could rather say that the answer is rather indeterminate because there just may not be a fact of the matter because entities like people, cats, trees, oceans, cars, etc. do not actually have precise boundaries where we can determine where I end and another entity begins. With cells and atoms constantly leaving my body, how much of me is really ‘me.’ Atoms leave me to join another entity. Between the atoms that left my body to form something else, there is a lot of in-between instances of atoms leaving. I suppose this sounds weird to say, so perhaps, I could use the given example of the cloud. True, some clouds look like perfect defined entities; you can see its outline where it ends the rest of the sky/atmosphere/air-space begins around it. But some clouds look smeared or brushed. So it looks like the cloud gradually is transforming from a cloud into a non-cloud. At one point do we say that everything on this side is a cloud and everything on the other is not a cloud? Maybe the cloud is on a part of something else whole. The could like the air, is a part of a whole (the atmosphere). But then that atmosphere is also part of another whole, the crust of the earth (after all, the air does seep into the ground only to be release later on in the future. And even the earth can be considered part of a whole, the galaxy, all acting on each other; sometimes pieces of one planet or another leave it, only to find it’s way to another planet; the same happens to the sun and asteroids. Maybe the ‘whole’ is the universe and everything inside are just parts that are evenly distributed throughout it. it seems then that it might be possible to say that there is no fact of the matter when it comes to determining where something ends and another thing begins. If that’s the case, then we can neither rationally choose the answer that entities/tables/persons exist, nor that entities/tables/persons do not exist. There just is no fact of the matter. Or maybe we don’t exist as a precisely defined being, but only contextually in some kind of “ontological relativism” (as entertained by Peter Unger, who examined this same argument I am reiterating). Maybe I exist fragily as n approximation of what we believe to be a person, but I am cannot be logically and precisely defined as a specific person… I don’t know. Anyway, that might be one way to avoid the conclusion that people (‘I’ or ‘me’) do not exist.
I should probably note that his argument stems from an age old question that asks: If you remove one grain of sand from a heap of sand, at what point does it cease to be a heap of sand? Or, if we ask in in a way that is similar to the argument mentioned earlier: taking away one grain of sand at a time, we have reason to think (based on the logical argument) that a few, one, or no grains of sand is still a heap of sand; in other words, if a trillion trillion trillion grains of sand is considered a heap, does it follow that only a few grains of sand is also a heap? What about the number of grains of sand in between the time of the trillionX3 grains of sand and the time of only the remaining few grains of sand?
Let me know if you think I may have misunderstood; correct me if I’m wrong; argue against it or in favor of it; entertain the idea; or whatever. I had fun with this one.
Regardless of what you think of it, I found it to be fairly interesting enough to share, and read & study. lol. g’night.
Getting lost in doing what’s appropriate, When the content of what is and isn’t Appropriate Is based on tradition. On culture On belief On history. On religion On family On romance On academia On philosophy On expectation of others before me. Scorned if I rebel with good reason. But it was the reasons of all That scorned the self into submission. "You just don’t do that!" was never mine Nor yours. Reasons are not private Nor original in content. I merely adopt them from a distance, Too afraid to touch them For what they might truly reveal. Maybe everyone is fake Through reasons and words. At least we’re all indeterminate.
Also, I've grown up "the natural way". I played in mud, and drank breast milk, which shows better immune systems in adults. I've never had any allergies or any food intolerances until I moved to America. BUT I STILL GOT VACCINATED. A great immune system does shit if there's no natural way to fight some of the diseases we encounter. I think these "naturalists" forget that the biggest component of evolution ad adaption? Oh yeah, it's fucking DEATH.
26 pages later, I’ve finally completed the first out of 4 research papers that are needed to be done by the Middle of May. I think it would be really interesting to write my actual thesis on the epistemology of Buddhism and Derridean deconstructionism. I’m not expert obviously, but there seems to be some vital overlapping components shared between philosophical empiricism, Buddhism, and deconstruction. The conclusions seem different though, but there seems to be some common themes shaking hands with one another. What could be said about the deconstruction of self? But even that seems too broad. This is just an idea…
Oh, my paper was on Hume and Krishnamurti, and how their strengths within their examination of the self and identity can reconcile their weaknesses. Hume was more analytical about self and identity, while Krishnamurti was more introspective. Both had similar conclusions about the fictive self, with memory being the source of our constructed identities, but Krishnamurti’s message began where Hume’s philosophy ended. I’ll just say that much because I don’t feel like rewriting a very long abstract on it.