Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Riding Mother Nature's Silver Seed to a New Home in the Sun
I am being haunted right now by a ghost. By ideas that have been instilled in me and that are now being threatened by, of all people, a monk. The ghost fights back, and he is wreaking the havoc of his insights on my mind.
I haven't read a word of Nietzsche for a very long time. I think its a phase you go through, like when you eat hamburger helper for a month straight just cuz you like it. Its been probably 4 years since I even picked up one of his books. Yet his ghost lingers.
What is important will perservere.
As an aside, is there anything more cliche then a young man making a poetic reference about Nietzsche? I should be slapped and fined for writing without a poetic license.
Still, even the cliches are sometimes are correct. There he is, staring me in the face.
'Is this really what you were brought up to believe?'
The last thing I read of Nietzsche was from a t-shirt.
On the front of the shirt it said 'God is dead' - Nietzsche, 1888.
On the back it said 'Nietzsche is dead' - God, 1901
Anyways, I thought it was pretty funny.
For better or worse, I learned from him. At times I think I learned too much. Here's a few paragraphs I wrote about five years ago. I stumbled on it yesterday.
He was considered a genius, at least by himself, and while much of his writing seems a tad indulgent to me and some of it is just straight off the wall and into the abyss, it isn't without its merit. There is this one idea in particular that pervades everything I have been reading, and I just haven't been able to let go of it. Tonight I finally get it. He's talking about the necessity of man to create. He sees the one who creates as being the crack through which the light is drawn.
I always thought that I understood what he was saying. Oh sure, its simple, straightforward, he thinks we should all be artists or builders or something of the sort. We need to create. But I was wrong. Tonight I think I figured it out, as I was wandering in my typical aimless stupor around and around the blocks circling my house. He was talking about meaning. We are all to be the creators of our own meaning.
I gained an ounce of solace in realizing that.
I think it's safe to say, in retrospect, that I gained more than an ounce.
It's a pretty simple idea really. I guess most anything of any importance is. But anyways, I latched onto it. It lifted me from the mundane dance of futility that, at the time, was bringing me down. Because what he is saying, in essence, is that we are our own creators.
Would could be more empowering? Because it makes it all ok. It makes it ok to be human, it makes it ok to make mistakes, and it makes it ok to try.
So that all brings us to the now. I am being asked to follow a path that I am told is the 'right one'.
And I hesitate. And shake. And sometimes I even tremble.
I am not all that sure about it.
Because there it is, the voice of Nietzsche, haunting my gut, telling me that there is no 'right one'. Telling me that we must all be creators. Telling me that if I give up my ability to create my own meaning, even if it may be in favour of the 'right one', then I give up that chance that we are all blessed with, to create the world in our own image.
Well, I don't know. I don't know much. But I do know that I'm not ready to give in to that just yet.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
My First Few Weeks in the Undertaking of the Profession of Knight-Errant
I have to say, its been a bit of a slog.
Immediately after making the toast of which I have already spoken (and which must really be read first to understand what I say here, and to understand as well the historical accounts that will undoubtably follow as I further my design to resurrect the profession of knight-errant), well, immediately after that, I made out into the countryside in search of a steed.
You see, a knight-errant must have a steed, if for no other reason then that you look rather stupid walking the interstate in armor on foot. Not to mention, in such degenerate times, there is more then a little chance you will be accosted by some ignorants who see not your noble profession but a fellow wrapped in aluminum foil (real armor is quite expensive I've found), and these types of ignorants can be less then kind. The deficiency of foil over hardened steel becomes quite apparent at such times.
So, if only for one's health, a steed is required.
But lord, let me tell you, it is no easy endeavour to find a steed. I have roamed around since the moon was full, looking far and wide for my proper form of transportation. But my god, what frustration! This land is littered with cattle, hogs, and horses, but it is almost entirely bereft of steeds. It is no wonder that the knight-errant has fallen to extinction.
And let me say this! I am not just a little suspicious of this strange extinction. In fact I have a feeling there is some design behind it. At the least, I have some very pointed questions I would like to ask those with such means as to whether there is some grand design that has conspired to bring it about. After all, what better way to rid the world of such a selfless profession then to erase from the earth its transportation.
Well, I write this from a small hotel outside of a town that for all I know has no name. I will continue on my journey from here; my quest for a steed shall not be soeasily deterred. In the mean time, I am given the chance to do some reading, and brush up on the historical accounts of knight-errantry, so that I might be best prepared when I find my ride. I am also reading Thoughts without a Thinker, which I would highly recommend.
But at the bottom is this: I pledge to you, upon my heart, that when I write next it will be upon a faithful steed. Assuming, of course, that wireless will reach that far. Adeiu!
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