Salvador Dali, "Autumn Cannibalism" (1936) “The Corpse of the Sea is now calling me home. It is dead, but it calls with a mouth that is alive.”
- Theognis of Megara (1229–1230)
The man who, because of a lack of external enemies and opposition, was forced into an oppressive narrowness and regularity of custom impatiently tore himself apart, persecuted himself, gnawed away at himself, grew upset, and did himself damage—this animal which scraped itself raw against the bars of its cage, which people want to “tame,” this impoverished creature, consumed with longing for the wild, which had to create out of its own self an adventure, a torture chamber, an uncertain and dangerous wilderness—this fool, this yearning and puzzled prisoner, became the inventor of “bad conscience.” But with him was introduced the greatest and weirdest illness, from which humanity up to the present time has not recovered, the suffering of man from man, from himself, a consequence of the forcible separation from his animal past, a leap and, so to speak, a fall into new situations and living conditions, a declaration of war against the old instincts, on which, up to that point, his power, joy, and ability to inspire fear had been based. Let us at once add that, on the other hand, the fact that there was on earth an animal soul turned against itself, taking sides against itself, meant there was something so new, profound, unheard of, enigmatic, contradictory, and full of the future, that with it the picture of the earth was fundamentally changed. In fact, it required divine spectators to appreciate the dramatic performance which then began and whose conclusion is by no means yet in sight—a spectacle too fine, too wonderful, too paradoxical, to be allowed to play itself out senselessly and unobserved on some ridiculous star or other! Since then man has been included among the most unexpected and most thrillingly lucky rolls of the dice in the game played by Heraclitus’ “great child,” whether he’s called Zeus or chance.* For himself he arouses a certain interest, a tension, a hope, almost a certainty, as if something is announcing itself with him, something is preparing itself, as if the human being were not the goal but only a way, an episode, a bridge, a great promise . . .
- Nietzsche, "Geneology of Morals" (Essay II)
61 comments:
...self deprecating? On the contrary. ;)
Ahhh, I see you've returned to Gaia's cavern. You're not hiding the Typhon in there, are you? ;)
Best be careful lest some young Apollo come calling.
...and knock your pythia off her tripod. ;)
...even so, i will find solace in Baubo, i know. ;)
btw - On which side of Mt. Parnassus have you set up residence? Can you see the Heliconian ridge from there? Olympus? Are you still on Mt. Parnassus?
Swift, "Battle of the Books"
Now whoever will please to take this scheme, and either reduce or adapt it to an intellectual state or commonwealth of learning, will soon discover the first ground of disagreement between the two great parties at this time in arms, and may form just conclusions upon the merits of either cause. But the issue or events of this war are not so easy to conjecture at; for the present quarrel is so inflamed by the warm heads of either faction, and the pretensions somewhere or other so exorbitant, as not to admit the least overtures of accommodation. This quarrel first began, as I have heard it affirmed by an old dweller in the neighbourhood, about a small spot of ground, lying and being upon one of the two tops of the hill Parnassus; the highest and largest of which had, it seems, been time out of mind in quiet possession of certain tenants, called the Ancients; and the other was held by the Moderns. But these disliking their present station, sent certain ambassadors to the Ancients, complaining of a great nuisance; how the height of that part of Parnassus quite spoiled the prospect of theirs, especially towards the east; and therefore, to avoid a war, offered them the choice of this alternative, either that the Ancients would please to remove themselves and their effects down to the lower summit, which the Moderns would graciously surrender to them, and advance into their place; or else the said Ancients will give leave to the Moderns to come with shovels and mattocks, and level the said hill as low as they shall think it convenient. To which the Ancients made answer, how little they expected such a message as this from a colony whom they had admitted, out of their own free grace, to so near a neighbourhood. That, as to their own seat, they were aborigines of it, and therefore to talk with them of a removal or surrender was a language they did not understand. That if the height of the hill on their side shortened the prospect of the Moderns, it was a disadvantage they could not help; but desired them to consider whether that injury (if it be any) were not largely recompensed by the shade and shelter it afforded them. That as to the levelling or digging down, it was either folly or ignorance to propose it if they did or did not know how that side of the hill was an entire rock, which would break their tools and hearts, without any damage to itself. That they would therefore advise the Moderns rather to raise their own side of the hill than dream of pulling down that of the Ancients; to the former of which they would not only give licence, but also largely contribute.
btw - On which side of Mt. Parnassus have you set up residence? Can you see the Heliconian ridge from there? Olympus? Are you still on Mt. Parnassus?
hmm. Difficult to answer. What do you think, you have known me some ... and my words. :)
Like Sysiphus, you seem to enjoy trading waters between the rivers Ameles and Mnemosyne. I'd send the Daneids to help you, but they've got a hole in their bucket. ;)
...in other words, I think you're still somewhere on the road between hilltops.
At least now you seem to more enjoy your work. ;)
A "happy" Sisyphus.
Like Sysiphus, you seem to enjoy trading waters between the rivers Ameles and Mnemosyne. I'd send the Daneids to help you, but they've got a hole in their bucket.
lol.
...No, I think i have moved on a bit ... i am definitely no longer a frog, though i may not be fully a man yet. So yes, you are right when you say somewhere on the road between hilltops.
Fully a man? Who has the strength for that? Not even Osama bin Laden had THAT strength.
Suffice to no longer be a eunich.
Fully a man? Who has the strength for that? Not even Osama bin Laden had THAT strength.
...i wonder if Osama took the wager! ;)
Not only did he take it, he largely won it.
He was the epitome of Plato's 9th form of motion. But it wasn't enough to get him to move himself.
Now Geronimo, on the other hand... ;)
from Wikipedia...
Allegedly it was during this incident that the name Geronimo came about. This appellation stemmed from a battle in which, ignoring a deadly hail of bullets, he repeatedly attacked Mexican soldiers with a knife, causing them to utter appeals to Saint Jerome ("Jeronimo!"). Americans heard this and thought his name was Geronimo, and the name stuck.
...and by all accounts, I really don't think Osama reached for a gun. ;)
Not only did he take it, he largely won it.
"faith" would do wonders. ;)
It can certainly move mountains... unlike a "freezing" truth, be it a single headed "python" or a hundred-headed "typhon".
Of course, the anchor must be allowed to drift a bit... or faith, too, can become a gorgon.
It can certainly move mountains...unlike a "freezing" truth...
Certainly, and yet - if only one could believe utterly!
I guess it helps if you can view either's reflection (twin).
...if you believe "utterly" then again, you are trapped.
...like a cyclops. A single eye.
Vulnerable to Odysseus and other protean "shape-shifters"
Of course, the anchor must be allowed to drift a bit... or faith, too, can become a gorgon.
One could still love a gorgon, it's the hollow ones...
...if you believe "utterly" then again, you are trapped.
...like a cyclops. A single eye.
like i said you can still love a gorgon...
...and other dancing stars.
Love 'em OR hate 'em, both. ;)
Just so you always understand and can see your own reflection, and "like" what you see.
(and hopefully it's not just another hollow man)... or a gravedigger's "permanent" tomb.
Nietzsche, "Zarathustra"
Thereafter Zarathustra again went on for two hours, trusting to
the path and the light of the stars: for he was an experienced
night-walker, and liked to look into the face of all that slept.
When the morning dawned, however, Zarathustra found himself in a thick forest, and no path was any longer visible. He then put the dead man in a hollow tree at his head- for he wanted to protect him from the wolves- and laid himself down on the ground and moss. And immediately he fell asleep, tired in body, but with a tranquil soul.
Just so you always understand and can see your own reflection, and "like" what you see.
Well, dangers are aplenty there as well
The object being not to die in your bed like Osama almost (???) did.
...aren't all "martyrs" supposed to die in their beds (wombs of their mothers)?
Well, dangers are aplenty there as well
Yes, Indeed.
A single-visioned myopia must always be avoided.
A single-visioned myopia must always be avoided.
is there another definition of faith than ... single visioned myopia?
...aren't all "martyrs" supposed to die in their beds (wombs of their mothers)?
When a gravedigger plants a man, he usually tries to ensure that they stay "planted".
So make my grave shallow. ;)
is there another definition of faith than ... single visioned myopia?
Is there another definitiion of "truth" (other than Nietzsche's)?
Between the sight of the two, I suspect that one could perceive a bit of "depth".
Is there another definitiion of "truth" (other than Nietzsche's)?
...And what that might be?
...both additions and subtractions from the twin images.
So make my grave shallow.
No such consolation for me. We Hindus don't bury our dead, we burn them. :)
Here are Nietzsche's two premises
493 (1885)
Truth is the kind of error without which a certain species of life could not live. The value for life is ultimately decisive.
534 (1887-1888)
The criterion of truth resides in the enhancement of the feeling of power.
So adduce your own deductions/ or inductions.
No such consolation for me. We Hindus don't bury our dead, we burn them.
A pyre is the shallowest grave possible. Just dump the ashes into the Ganges. That'll keep the remains perpetually in motion. ;)
So adduce your own deductions/ or inductions.
Sure i have. But they are slightly different, i must say.
fyi - I plan on cremation... but a slightly different fate for my ashes.
but a slightly different fate for my ashes.
...that being?
Sure i have. But they are slightly different, i must say.
Please do.
...that being?
Admixture into the soil surrounding the graves of my ancestors.
Fertilizer, so to speak. ;)
Admixture into the soil surrounding the graves of my ancestors.
hmm. yes, in life the thought has a certain value.
...my arrival into this world made me feel as if I were just thrown into the fire. Unlike Lessing's son, I don't plan on leaving the same way. I've a specific destination in mind. ;)
...my arrival into this world made me feel as if I were just thrown into the fire.
...given birth astride a grave?
...given birth astride a grave?
No a hospital. But I do like the "truth" in the portrait you paint.
Sounds like a good opening scene for a novel... or a least a short story. ;)
Amen! :)
Pozzo: (Spoken to Vladimir in a fury) Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time! It's abominable! When! When! One day, is that not enough for you, one day he [Lucky] went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? (Calmer, and more to himself) They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
Let the light gleam an instant.
:)
it surely does that.
Lightening.
Zeus must be about. ;)
Oooops. Flashes. ;)
lol. gotta go now. tc.
ciao. gasta bananas.
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