Monday, November 28, 2016







A Short Logos about the Essence of Thought 
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“Materialism is not itself a material.” 


“Dissolution of everything solid into a fluid, flexible, malleable state, into swimming and floundering; the unmeasured, without laws or boarders, clarity or definiteness; the boundless night of sheer submergence.”




All mediocre beings have been condemned not to know they are mediocre, but the great are only on the border of the magic and truculent region. The magic is the relentlessness of the forest, the cold wind and the strange tingle of being. The truculent is the sheet lightning, the shooting star that can’t be stopped; what happens on its own as in the Element. The mediocre know what is mediocre and they embrace it with an intrinsic enthusiasm, and seek more of it. They take their pride in it and confer the advantages of the society of the mediocre on their own. Outside the genius of the human citadel, where the unusual spirits finally come to rest after they have in some way become the measure of that spirit, and to some degree formed it and cast its shape, everything has a spirit which runs outside the basic direction of collective comprehension. The struggle for the genius of the citadel is not understood by those cheap rebels who seek to evade it without coming into a serious appreciation of its singular merits. The wild magic regions of the storm have seldom been purposively, independently chosen? What manner of being would step into that utter exile from collectivity freely? Only by reflecting do we come to doubt the sense of freedom of action that itself grows into one prior to specific talk of it in classrooms. Yet only in the specific discussion of the matter does it come to seem what had come prior to the specific determination in the education. The classroom can be in the discussion one has with one’s self, and not in some institution. The genesis of being is irreducible and insoluble like life. Life names nothing else but that that is missing in things grasped by the comprehension of the living. The dissolve of the genius of the citadel is only the talk of the members about the non-members. Only the insiders know about the outsiders, but the outsiders don’t enter into the life of the insiders because they have absolutely other symbols and not only other interpretations. Or, better, they haven't heard anything about the symbols or the sense of them. They have been touched by another hand.  





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