Imagine that

I am a man of imagination. A mere epiphany of Blake, whom for the morn', will serve well as a mouthpiece. I shall have my own beliefs and habits -- or so I believe. He will no doubt greatly approve of some, hate others, or have mixed thoughts on some depending on the "sense" in which I speak. No matter, this is my time and my word.

There is a cool mist about the lake's surface this morning. Perhaps a cup 'o tea would warm my gut. It's a rather lovely scene except for the dead willows and the wretched birds that cry "it's morning!" every moment. If I had a rock I gamble I could find the source of that outcry. Oh dearest me, I do believe I have spilt some tea on meself. [wipe wipe] There we are, all clean.

The Lady Dawn has cleaned her eyes and is going about her morning duties. Wiping off the world of its darkness, maliciousness, its ugliness. The dew is Monsieur Night having tried to cover its work for protection. Alas, the poor thing always fails, for Lady Dawn takes about even making it seem beautiful. Wretched girl. She is nothing but the ignorance that accompanies innocence and as a result her work is mere folly. She never can catch both sides of the objects she wiped. Instead she goes about haphazardly wiping off things, missing spots, leaving a little coal on every object that Monsieur Night had spread on the night before. And thus we say one side of the tree is "shadowed."

I think a scone would do my mind some good, perhaps clear out all this ugly truth I see outside. There is a jar on my table which contains some plant of the orient -- I do recall the salesman saying it was "bam-boo." Its leaves are rather gallant. However they do take to dipping into the candle vases nearby. One is crimson as blood and the other white as snow. They take to playing in either, as if nature can afford such luxuries. I am not well pleased with its attitude. It irks me to see life other than man playing with the furies. Such is the war between man and the world. It shall submit itself to our will. Until then I salivate at the prospect of competition.

But does not every man live for the thrill of competition? Do we not see this in the betrothed? The individuals care not for one another so much as they care they they have captured something for their own. One can see this in even the youngest of our species. Little girls playing several men at once, the men in turn become jealous, compete against one another for the girl, then when they get her they realize they fell into a trap. It's all very amusing. Personally I love to play along for a while and then drop the whole charade and walk off as if nothing had ever occurred. It amuses me to watch such instances but I honestly cannot fathom how a man falls into such a trap. Clearly he aims towards some irrational idea of "love" which is nothing more than one's desire for the other and to have it exclusively. But when the other does not return it, what might possibly drive a man to even further levels of madness as to continue his competition with another man? Move on sir. Even assuming love is worthwhile this particular will not qualify as capable of such an action.

Well breakfast was particularly scrumptious this morning. The lake water is no longer still due to Lady Dawn having stirred it up. I wonder where it's going in such a hurry. No matter, soon Monsieur Night will stop its futility. All will be still. Inactivity is the best of states. It doesn't bother to change since it accepts its nature. And a things nature is best.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, he turned out to be a brute in scholarly clothes. Oh well, he was amusing while he lived. Alas! Tis no more.

Induction II

And of course I've forgotten my Kant. For how are we to say "One cannot know causality because of..." when the line itself presupposes causality is known? Naturally we cannot. But I find it still more interesting that my mentor says "Hume is a reductio [ad absurdum] of Locke, if we are to take Locke seriously." Apparently his colleagues think him mad for believing so, but it is an interesting point.

Anywho, it would seem I need a refresher course on what I have learned so that I might flesh out a better epistemology. I see now the problem arises because I never took an epistemology class. Although one cannot avoid the topic in other fields since epistemology needs to be prior to any study, since study is always of a thing and we must first "know" what we can "know" about this thing. Oops, it would seem I just slipped into some sort of metaphysical epistemology. Or is all epistemology metaphysical? I suppose these are some of the questions I need cleared up. Alas/Bleh. Hopefully my friend will send those epistemology papers sooner than later.

I need to clear up what it is that can be known from an empirical standpoint and what cannot. I mustn't slip back into Hume's argument against causality which presupposes causality. Perhaps a good reading of the divided line metaphor would help too. I'm not sure if I quite understood what it was I was reading at the time. And of course my books are either in Athens or I lent them out. Argggh.

Blake

Matthew 22:37 -- Love: Heart, Soul, & Mind

Introduction: I wrote this after I finished writing. It began as a spiel on what people meant when they say "heart." I quickly discovered it could be either feelings or thoughts, which is a disjunct, meaning one or the other and due to a passage I decided to use as an example, it quickly became a theological bout on the meaning of the passage. The work doesn't ultimately end with what we mean by heart since definitions are merely beginnings, but it does say something as to the nature of Love.

Sigh, I said I wouldn't write philosophy anymore, but only speak it. Nostalgia here I come...

What is this word, "heart?" I ask for two reasons:

One
(1) I hear it spoken so often at Wesley.
(2) When spoke it often refers to emotionalism.
(3) I don't prescribe to emotionalism.
(4) Thus, I don't prescribe to such a definition.
(5) My understanding is only right insofar as it is consistent with Scripture.
(5) If the Bible is defining heart as such, then I must come to understand what the true definition is.

Two
(1) Heart is used in Christ's first commandment.
(2) I ought to fulfill commandments.
(3) To fulfill a commandment I must understand what it is saying.
(4) Thus, I must understand heart before I can fulfill my commandment.

Now, the first to be clear on, is that some sort of epistemology is needed in order for the ethical life to occur. We say that ethical decisions are in accordance with the Good and unethical ones are do to decisions that actively create a lack of Good. I do not propose that certainty will ever be within our grasp, but I do suppose that some definitions and/or propositions must be grasped to some degree, even if not be to the highest. There is a difference in ignorance where one wills a perpetual lack of knowledge and ignorance where one simply hasn't had the opportunity to see and understand their ignorance, and thus have potential to correct it. In the case of the former, the person might not know the right from the wrong, but it is because of their own will that they do so. And willfully avoiding right action is by prior definition, wrong, for it creates a lack of Good in one's life, which is attributable to one's own decision.

All of this has been stated a thousand other times by men a thousand times wiser than myself. Simply put, ethical behavior requires intentional will. Willful ignorance is no excuse for any action, for it puts the causation on yourself. On the other hand, ignorance with no potential to change is excusable as what we call innocence.

As always I'm still struggling with "lack of action" as being a cause. What to do with such things? But I suppose in this case it is a lack of action in a physical sense, although ultimately the will is deciding to actively disengage from a situation, which is something -- for it is a thought, is a deed, and requires the mind to shut itself down and the body to leave circumstances which could alter the decision making process. In this sense, they are things, so I suppose I can say willful ignorance is blameworthy.

All this serves to say is that willful ignorance is not an excuse for evil deeds, but I still have yet to get to the point -- can we be ethical and ignorant? If it be the case that we are willfully ignorant, then no, for we have decided on a thought and mode of acting which actively goes away Good behavior. If it be ignorance not of one's will, then no, for by the same token neither can we say that their behavior is attributable to them. For their telos in their behavior was not toward the end that one proposes came, being a good act. What occurs instead is an illusion. We believe we see a good act, such as the man who saves the drowning girl because he saw news crews were near and new he would become famous. He didn't save her because it was good, but rather because of the fame.

I suppose means and ends have worked their way into this conversation. Lawd, I feel like I'm going through sophomore college year all over again. I'm rusty in the brain, though my mouth seems to have too much oil on it. If I found a balance I must not be so stupid. The problem occurring here is that the deed, being good in nature, was a means to the man's end, fame. The concept of Good is that it is something ultimate, that is, there is no reason to do it other than that it is itself. And means are always done for their ends, and never vice versa. This is because we believe the end to be better than the means, such as exercising and health. If someone had to pick between the means and the end they will always pick the end. E.G. pick between exercising and health, working and financial security, thinking about what's right or wisdom. We will undoubtedly say the end is the reason we ever engage in the means. Insofar as someone engages in ethical behavior it requires that they do it for its own sake, for to do otherwise would be to subdue the good to something else. As a corollary, whatever this thing is that the person places in value as higher than the good, is what the person believes to be the Good. Ipso facto much evil is caused by poor and/or wrong definitions. In order to do good, our intent must be to the end of the Good. In order for this to occur, I must have an an idea of the Good. I might not know it's nature, though I might know its effects and why it is worthy to do. Such as the case with not being able to look directly into the sun, though we see the beams, or we might not understand chemical combustion, though we can take a car apart and put it back together blindfolded. There is a grasping of the idea, though full explanation escapes us.

Quod erat demontrandum, epistemology is needed for ethical behavior. Now, let's get onto this whole Christ command jibberish. :)


Matthew 22:37

• Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
• ο δε ιησους ειπεν αυτω αγαπησεις κυριον τον θεον σου εν ολη τη καρδια σου και εν ολη τη ψυχη σου και εν ολη τη διανοια σου

Firstly, I've color coded the words so as to show which word means which from English to Greek. Secondly, I'm no Greek scholar, but I'm going to make an appeal to authority, but rightly so, insofar as I can trust men more intelligent than myself, and can make the justifiable assumption that thousands of years of scholarly work would weed out those who make clear errors within the limits of our knowledge of the language. As a note, I say justifiable because I have reasons to believe such men are trustworthy, not because I have a deductive argument to prove it -- for it wouldn't be an assumption then.

I should note that this passage perturbs me. According to what I have already worked out in my mind, it seems to be overly repetitive, to the point of pointlessness. Allow me to explain...

We're supposed to love God with all of our heart, soul, and mind. My theological understanding of heart is that the Hebrew word for it, implying Old Testament, has a two-fold meaning of both intellect and emotion. By soul I hear the Greek "psyche" from philosophy which is the thing which creates motion in ourselves, which just so happens to be the intellect and emotion. And then lastly we have mind, which I take to be intellect. This all of course is a first approach, immediate reaction to the text.

Then of course we have others who read heart as emotion, soul as something eternal, and mind as the intellect. I'm not sure how accurate this is, or mine, since both seem to imply problems of some sort or another for a consistent theology. So what do I do? I look it up in Greek and get some definitions.

Step 1: Get DEFINITIONS -- if you cannot define a thing in any way or sort, then you cannot possibly know what you are talking about. If you insist on talking, the listener will hear words but their mind will only translate it as "blah blah blippity blah." Any attempt to rationalize their statement given their lack of definitions is a post hoc justification on your part to try to understand that which is a series of incoherent propositions. You'll only succeed in understanding what you already think is the case, and most likely agree with the person verbally, though in truth you have nothing on which to agree, since you have something coherent and they have something incoherent in mind.

In essence I'm really speaking to those who say, "You cannot understand God" and don't make a distinction between direct and indirect attributes, or inner and outer nature, or equivalence of persons in the Trinity versus ordering of the Trinity in some sense. Surely we know some things, e.g. God is Love (agape), God is Good, Father begot the Son, Father is greater than the Son. It might be we don't fully understand such things, but we have a loose understanding of them. Parables is a big part of Christ's teachings, which I think is acknowledgment of such concepts. Surely we cannot know God in His fullness, but we know of Him. Thus, to say "We cannot know God and that is what is so cool/beautiful/mysterious" is a nonsense statement. For to say we cannot know X but X is so beautiful, the most logical thing one can do after such a statement is say, "What's X?" Followed shortly by "I don't know X but it's beautiful," to which the original responds, "What's X?" So goes such fallacious thinking ad infinitum. Then let us posit that if we are to say anything about God, it is of Him, but not directly of Him.

καρδια or Heart or kardia (kar-dee'-ah): the heart, i.e. (figuratively) the thoughts or feelings (mind); also (by analogy) the middle -- (+ broken-)heart(-ed).

ψυχη or Soul or psuche (psoo-khay'):
breath, i.e. (by implication) spirit, abstractly or concretely -- heart (+ -ily), life, mind, soul, + us, + you.

διανοια or Mind or dianoia (dee-an'-oy-ah): deep thought, properly, the faculty (mind or its disposition), by implication, its exercise -- imagination, mind, understanding.


So, I've made an assumption that the Greek is correct, passed down from men more knowledgeable in the field than myself. I believe it to be justified by this, and in tandem with the fact that God is speaking to a people through their own language, so if we understand the people and their culture, then we understand what God meant, for His Son was sent to speak to the people. This implies they would understand what he means, which means there exists a necessity for communication and a common language. If God spoke in words we didn't understand, that is, if you're willing to make the claim that what God meant through these words and how the people then understood were two different things, then interpretation and history fall apart, it makes no sense to say the Apostles understood anything since not even they would fall under the category of those who understand God's language, as well as this would challenge Scripture's history and why some texts were canonized and others were not. Of course one's understanding of God comes from reason, experience, as well as Scripture, and a consistency is needed in all three, as well as Scripture being revelation requires that the subject of the other two conform to it rather than vice versa. By God, the Scripture is the way we come to better understand God since the other two are not sufficient. I say this because logic is a form and needs propositions by which to work, it's much like having a hammer and no boards or nails to create something, and whereas emotion is nothing more than a concomitant to reason's product(s). What we see then is that in order to challenge language of Scripture requires one already having a sufficient concept of God, which comes from Scripture, and thus in order for one to challenge such language is to use their foundation to destroy it, which is a great postmodern problem if you're into pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. Now that the assumption is wrapped up, I've also given three definitions and the proposition which Christ spake unto us. Let's proceed.

In order to deal with my first problem, of it being repetitious, let's throw out some ideas -- shall we? First, let's take the saying and substitute all the possible meanings given the definitions we have found.

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy [ thoughts or feelings ], and with all thy [ spirit or heart or life or mind ], and with all thy mind.

Then we'll substitute thoughts for mind wherever it appears; I believe the reasoning behind this move to be self-evident. Could be wrong :) We'll also substitute thoughts or feelings for heart since it showed up in the definition of soul.

*Note* I already cut out soul as being "concrete heart" for I hope, obvious reasons. If it's not obvious...stop reading...hahaha, more seriously if not then it's because one's concrete heart is an organ which pumps blood and is not a conceptual part to our being which can be part of love.)

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy [ thoughts or feelings ], and with all thy [ spirit or (thoughts or feelings) or life or thoughts ], and with all thy [ thoughts ].

Now, before we begin to look at this, I should probably give a better explanation why repetition is something to be avoided while interpreting. Clearly Christ repeated himself; he did so to the people, he did so to his own Apostles, he did so to the world. But within a single proposition? Why? Why the need, or even desire, to say the same thing over and over with the conjunction "and?" It makes no sense to say:

• Eat that burrito with your mouth and your mouth and your teeth.
• Indiana! Save that woman with your whip and your whip and the handle to your whip.
• Beat that redheaded stepchild within an inch of his life with your fist and your fist and don't forget to use your knuckles too.

Now some might point to it as an oratorical method, some rhetorical technique...wait. That's actually a contradiction in terms since rhetoric is but a knack. Even modern which claims the logos but doesn't practice it isn't a techne. Moving on :) some rhetorical knack by which Christ was using to drive his point home. Speaking in parables will help someone of lesser understanding to grasp difficult concepts, but repeating the same thing does nothing for those of little understanding, and for those that do understand, repetition does nothing to add to the intellect, and thus nothing to the emotion since it is but a result of the intellect. Proper intellect I do mean, which is another discussion in-and-of-itself. But it ought to suffice to say, emotion without or prior to intellect is nonsense, for one wouldn't have the proper intent, which is an exercise of the intellect. The reason a parable is being used is because the listener is incapable of fully grasping the subject -- to what possible end could repetition help here? If they don't understand the subject in its fullest nature, then saying it repetitively will not rescue the intellect. Likewise, if the person is listening to a parable, and one given why He whom is said to have divine knowledge, then the point is already made clear by simplification a la the parable mode. Repetition becomes a vacuous exercise in either case.

So, the question is, would Christ say something which helps neither those of lesser or greater understanding? We might say sure in cases where Christ has already spoken and is showing the product of such things, which we might call love, but such counter-arguments I do not apply to commands. This goes back to the first part, for if the intellect must be prior to emotion, and to follow a command requires intent, which is of the intellect, then the command must be presented in a way which the intellect might grasp. God's knowledge is aware of our finite nature as well as His own telos in sending His Son, thus the Son will communicate in a coherent way which has the telos of adding to our understanding what it is we ought to do. So, for those who say this is a rhetorical knack Christ is using, I say, "Tis absurd sir," for a command's telos is to add to the intellect and such knacks as repitition do not add to the grasping of our commands by the intellect for those of greater or lesser understanding. It is in effect, useless to the intellect, and this is chiefly why we label those who use such knacks as demagogues, not as a label of reverence, but as a warning for all who would hear such a brute speak.

Corollary Tangent
Such knacks were devised to prey upon those who make emotion prior to the intellect, and such men who use them are monsters who prey upon the weak and lost. They themselves have used their intellect first before emotion (for those who don't buy into their own vain repetition), but they are not guided by the Spirit, but rather a self-instantiated telos for their own life which sets about to manipulate others as means to its logically absurd end. I say it is absurd because the artist gives the urn its telos, not the urn giving itself one. The same applies here, the Creator gives the created its telos, not otherwise, for this says the the temporally bound thing existed before it had temporal existence and determined its own final cause, which is contradictory. Final cause is part of a full account of causation and thus necessarily exists within a thing at least at the moment it achieves actuality, though this is still another conversation in and of itself. If one does accept this though, then silliness I say for those who posit otherwise (see Existentialism for a chuckle).

Back to the passage where words' definitions were put into place:

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy [ thoughts or feelings ], and with all thy [ spirit or (thoughts or feelings) or life or thoughts ], and with all thy [ thoughts ].

I could set about listing every possible permutation (I think this is the correct term and not combination?) but that might take a while. Instead lets eliminate some possibilities quickly then list out what's left.

Now, if the last term, διανοια or Mind or dianoia, is thoughts, and the first is either thoughts or feelings, and Christ would not use vain repetitions in commands [ for this would posit a problem if it were the case and we were to pray and reflect upon this with God (Matthew 6:7). But alas, I've said enough on the matter. ] then we can say that the first term (καρδια or Heart or kardia) means feelings here. I cannot of course say it always means feelings since it is a disjunct, and I cannot generalize from the particular. From here we have thoughts and feelings covered, meaning the middle term, ψυχη or Soul or psuche, cannot be either, leaving us with either spirit or life.

From here there's no telling. It's either spirit or life. Of course we might say "IT'S BOTH IT'S BOTH! IT WORKS SO WELL OUR SPIRIT IS OUR LIFE AND VICE VERSA," which sounds really pretty and makes ya' feel all warm and special, but that's not what we're left with. Whereas heart was defined as "thoughts or feelings" in a disjunct, the definition of Soul was a list consisting of commas with no sort of conjunction by which to eliminate possibilities. Perhaps it's both, perhaps it's one or the other. As always I'm not going to say or "perhaps something else" because of prior reason 1 -- my assumption is to trust scholars across history -- and reason 2 -- this would be an appeal to ignorance if one were to conclude it's something else at worst and a non-falsifiable hypothesis at best. Either way it's a horrible idea.

What is nice to know, is that the passage can thus be read as:

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy (feelings), and with all thy (spirit or life), and with all thy (thoughts).

On second thought...I don't think one could say life or both, for life consists of one's actions, decisions, relationships, etc. which all imply a self which is doing so. The thoughts and feelings are two of the fundamental parts which make up one's life, and thus this would be repetitious in a way, like saying "Let's play the game of baseball with bats and the game of baseball and balls." Not to mention Love is a part of life, conceptually so, even if we put to it as some ultimate goal of life, nope nope NOPE. I was contradicting myself there, a thing cannot be a part of something and the purpose of doing that thing, that creates separation. I only say running is part of health insofar as it causes health, but the running itself is only related to health, it isn't health-itself. Likewise if I were to say love is part of life an the telos of life I would be proposing it was both of and out of life. Ridiculous, what am I talking about? I don't say that the urn's "holding water" is outside of the urn, for the final cause is a part of the thing. I seem to be confusing means-to-ends with telos. Hmm, how to deal with this...

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ...
it seems the efficient cause mixes the material and formal causes so that the thing upon achieving actuality may reach this potential, which is already inside the thing, e.g. tree is already in the acorn in potentiality.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Hmm
... ... ... ... ... i ... ... e ... n ... j ... o ... y ... ... d ... o ... t ... s ... ... e ... a ... c ... h ... i ... s ... ... a ... ... t ... i ... c ... k ... ... o ... f ... ... t ... h ... e ... ... m ... i ... n ... d ... ... p ... l ... e ... a ... s ... e ... ... h ... o ... l ...d ... ... ... c ... o ... n ... t ... e ... n ... t ... ...
Ok, so it doesn't seem to make any sense to say because the thing is a telos to conclude it it outside the thing, quite the contrary actually. What was I talking about again?
... l ... o ... a ... d ... i ... n ... g ... ... ...
Life or spirit or (life and spirit) in relation to? Gah, I don't want to scroll up; I need to work on my memory. ... .... ... ... ... ... I give up, scrolling...oh yeah, loving.

Alright, back to something a little more orderly in format. So even if we posit love (of God first and other second in accordance with the two new commands) as the telos of life it still doesn't seem to help us. It would be like sayiny:

Dear Urn,
Please hold water with all your (clay) and (circularity) and (both as far as their purpose is to hold water.)
Sincerely,
The Artisan

...goes right back to repetition. Hmm, maybe this has helped. I suppose now I know we cannot say it is both life and spirit, but we're still stuck with either life or spirit.

Dear Santa,
All I want for Christmas is wisdom. I promise not to abuse it too much.
Love,
Blake

Hahahaha, oh jeeze it's getting late. Here I am...talking to myself again. Writing seems to drive me mad in some ways and brings clarity in others.

I got it! That last conclusion was a step too far. The logical conclusion is that "life" cannot be the answer since it implies both already mentioned, and by extension, both cannot be the answer since one is falsified. Spirit it is. Wait, why was that so hard? Couldn't I just have said, thoughts and feelings are part of life so that would be repetitious? The long road it is...

The final interpretation is as follows:
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy (feelings), and with all thy (spirit), and with all thy (thoughts).

Haha, scrolling back up to copy this somehow ended up with me cutting and pasting the Artisan down here without knowing, all within about a two second span. I suppose some would say that's God giving His "mark of approval" to the interpretation, yet I can give an account of how it occurred, I was already poised to hit the code for cut and paste and hit it too soon. I think. Oh well, that's probably something better to file away and keep for testing rather than to spill out.

Another question has arisen to my mind though, how do I know spirit does not refer to feelings or thoughts or some combination to both? Well naturally I could roll through Scripture and look for differences in them, or make the appeal to what I've already been taught, that the spirit is more central than the soul which refers to feelings, thoughts, and will. I could look up the Greek for spirit that would be unnecessary since spirit is the English interpretation given as a definition for the word, which could have been otherwise. I will assume they were consistent and would have used thoughts or feelings if that were the case, and distinguished the two for a good reason, that being one of their judgment on language usage. Given the definition we know that it could not be that spirit refers to thoughts since this was suggested and seen as absurd. One might try the "it's emotion" but again this would be a non-falsifiable hypothesis at best or an appeal to ignorance at worst. The burden of proof would be on someone else to show me why this is not the case at worst since I think my case is solid, and at best you have a more accurate definition that I am ignorant of and that you might be...morally obligated to tell me of. :D Ultimately through elimination of vain repetition this passage can still work with my understanding of our state of becoming, since I believe the spirit gives guidance to the intellect, and the intellect to the emotions. It might be very well that I already presupposed this in saying that God would say that which adds to understanding, implying a move from His spirit to ours, which then speaks to our intellect, but I believe my reasons for doing so are sound and valid.

I probably should have begun with a prayer, but to be honest this day has been nothing but searching for God so I'll say I did pray in the beginning, at 10:30 a.m. So let's say an evening prayer to wrap up this wonderful day shall we?


Recite with me, if you will, a prayer as Christ taught us to say:
Our Father,
Who art in heaven,
hallowed by name.
Thy kingdom come
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory,
for ever and ever,
Amen.

Celestial Father,
Thank you for your guidance in our meditations and study of your Word. I desire to know more of these things that you have said to us, and to understand more each day what it is that I am to do. More so I desire that I might live the ethical life insofar as it seeks to bring your kingdom to fruition. Use me in whatever way possible for this, I fear not in this universal claim for I know of your unfaltering Goodness and faith in us. I pray that the Spirit might fill me and give me direction and word anytime I ponder over your curious and mysterious nature. Shape my desires in a way so that I would desire what is capable of being known of you and what is not, I would not worry about, so that I might use my time wisely and fulfill the telos you have set forth for me. I do not presume it is anything physical: a place to go, a job to take, a person to be with, but rather an all encompassing claim to me, as all I do now and here on this tainted world is not yet fulfilled, though it shall come to be. There are many doors beset before me, some good and some evil. I do no fret on which to choose or set up series of conditional prayers asking you to come down and show me which one, for I wish not to test you Lord. Instead, use me and make any road I might take righteous. I pray for righteous intervention so that penultimately my spirit might better hear yours, that my intellect might take it, use it properly, to produce a better will and emotion -- to the telos of loving (agapao) you Lord. Help me to fulfill my command, for while it is commanded of me, without you I am nothing, yet with you all is possible. If need be, give me ears to hear, give me words to pray, give me whatever is necessary for me to align my spirit to Yours.
I also pray for my family, that you might bring about a sense of peace and love within us, for we quarrel over ridiculous matters most of the time. I am guilty of reverting into some habitual form of myself when I return home. I pray protection over my identity in you at these times, so that I might not revert into some slothful, wrathful individual who lashes out at those who I love due to differences and sits about wasting days in childish entertainments.
I especially pray for Ahmaud, Ben, Frank, Josh, Lindsay, Kirk, Stephen, Ling, Hao, Tao, David, Whitey, Draper and Thomas for those matters which they need help and guidance. I do not ask for those things which do not help salvation nor their journeys to you Lord, but only that which will ultimately be used by you Lord.

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti,
blake

In the World of Tomorrow!...Errr Induction

Foreword: I'm starting to like these prefaces. I meant to write on the what I thought the future might be on because I spent a night looking at futuristic models ranging from the cult-like "proofs" to philosophical "proofs" which ranged on topics such as the singularity, immortality, and "cyber souls." Very entertaining stuff, but something about the web sites claims sickened me, and I soon discovered it was their certainty in claims about claims of which no certainty could be determined.

This shall be some exercise in imagination rather than deductive logic. Pardon the pleonasm, and trite alliteration following. I don't believe in inductive logic; I find it to be a contradiction in terms. A small preface about logic should be entertaining at least.

In order to prove induction as a valid form of reasoning we must show order exists in the world, otherwise there is nothing by which to make probabilistic generalizations from. After all, induction, especially in the hard sciences is about making observations and generating the "laws of the world." To do this though would require induction itself. This results in circular reasoning, which I find in many of my science minded friends and acquaintances, prompting the quiet chuckle or friendly smile from myself as they continue on their claim to speak...logically...about the world.

And while I laud Kant for showing time and space need be a priori concepts in order for experience to occur, it doesn't patch up problems with the final result of experiences given all concepts that come into factor. I'm thoroughly unconvinced by his attempts to make the subjective experiences of the many, objective. Sounds far too much like rounding the square to my delicate ears.

I know not whether or not what I believe is correct, but I know I have the belief, and have some justification for it, now the matter of whether or not it is true. It's practical for me to assume induction, but practical is not a logical justification. And in all reality I presume I do not do it as much as the average person. Indubitably I do it when I expect everyone else to arrive at work, that the oven will work, that my lungs will continue to function, and so on. When dealing with people and activities though I always wing things and don't know what to expect. I don't claim to avoid it altogether. But I do admit I have no reason in making such assumptions. But that's all they ultimately are, and always will be. It will have to suffice for practicality's sake that in everyday events I come up with another term for "justification" when dealing with such assumptions. For it isn't justified in the true sense of the word, so instead of using it, I shall use some other word.

Perhaps this is part of why I detest having meetings to make plans for another meeting. Another part is that if I take it seriously it quickly become an ad infinitum occurrence if one doesn't keep an eye on their watch and calendar.

Furthermore I find the scientific methodologies fun but not entirely convincing due to this fun little problem of the inductive "argument." Statistics is fun to play with too, we throw on our "+5% margin of error" and since we mentioned it we pretend like everything is okay. Somewhere along the line we decided if we admit there's a problem we can still assert it. This is best to be left as a "practical justification," and those who talk about it in terms of "logic" or "proofs" ought to keep quiet, for one ought never to speak on matters they know not. And if they do know, they ought never to misuse language knowingly. There is something very twisted about the man who speaks with certainty about that which by definition cannot obtain certainty, for he is a danger to mankind.

Wow what a rant. This is a really old problem which is known as the "problem of induction" in philosophy of epistemology and sciences. I don't believe any secular answer has sufficiently solved it, though every now and then some claim to. Popper tried to in the 20th century but he did so by trying to turn the question around by saying that we hold beliefs and falsify them until we get down to reality. This is really a fancy way of saying all knowledge is empirical, which is only gotten through induction. And once again I'm going to ask the question: is induction valid? Popper is going to say you can't justify it, it just is that way. It's a clever way of making an assertion look like an argument at best, and at worst, trying to dodge circularity by shifting the question, which still turns out to be circular when he tries to give an answer. One possible solution is to make God that which binds all experiences as objective. While I'm perfectly capable of making such a claim, some are not willing to accept God's existence. that we're all modes of God an Look it up for more information. Do not use wikipedia...Also try honey on bananas and/or wheat bread with a glass of milk. It's heavenly.

So, In The World of Tomorrow!

I actually don't feel like writing about this anymore...

In other news, I received a phone call from Duke today. Looks like I shall be attending there in Fall of 2010. Divinity Devil it is, how...contradictory :) It makes me chuckle, much like induction.

God's servant,
blake

Nostalgic Tea

Sometimes when I brew a pot of tea, I set it to medium heat, patiently awaiting the steam to let me know it is ready. It takes much longer than is necessary--and I even set the pot aside and watch the steam spill over the side like the exhale of a midnight smoker's lips. I'll turn a bottle of honey up and watch the gelatinous substance swarm the bottom of my tea cup. On days when I feel nostalgic, or the need to feel so, I'll throw a dash of whiskey in.

As a child, on sick days, my mother would boil tea, add a teaspoon of honey and a shot of whiskey. She said the temperature would kill the infection, the liquor would sterilize the throat, and the honey would soothe it. Probably another snake oil story. After several coughs and yelps from the heat I'd manage to get it down. I was then forced under the blankets until a furious sweat was worked up, often putting me into some sort of feverous pseudo-dream-like state. It was a disgusting elixir, and to this day it's filed under "medicine" to my taste buds. Nonetheless it brings back memories of my mother, so I do it.

Some Plan...

Dreams, slumbering thoughts, imagination,
sometimes I can't discern them.
More pertinent,
it doesn't seem to matter,
since all seem clear in their content.
For reason is not itself temporal,
so it matters little where or when they occur,
so long as they are clear in structure.

My Angels and Dust and Rings,
some warped mix
of divinity, mortality, and oaths--
that which I can only talk around,
but not directly.

Imagine leaf clusters, sunbeams, and strange wildlife.
If only I put pieces together right,
some secret unlocked.
The trees might bend to reveal worn trail,
outlined in wild flowers,
patches of light leading me onward.
What is it I'm supposed to do here?
View it properly?
I believe I see the full beauty,
and yet something is lacking.

Imagine standing in front of a workshop table:
bolts, nuts, nails, and a claw hammer lay,
cold and motionless.
Buckles, frames, and measuring tapes,
some mix of scrap and real parts,
and I'm to play engineer.
What gadget is it you want me to make?
Where is the blueprint?
I intuit it's within me,
but see it not.

Imagine the home of a classicist.
Renaissance art and wine glasses,
fading sheet music covers the ground,
edges burned or worn off--
leading to the long dead hearth.
I am discussing with the owner.
The dialogue is challenging,
rewarding, yet it doesn't end,
even after conclusion.
What is it I'm supposed to ask?
His forward stature tells of his waiting
for a question I don't know about.

It doesn't seem to be enough to want,
whatever this secret is.
Not enough to merely desire you.
I have to ask the right question,
although I want to,
I can't.
I don't know what it is.

King of the Anthill

Frustrated.
Small things push me to snap.
Inane details.
What color flowers?
One napkin or two?
"Someone" cares,
but I do not.
Nor do I think they should.

Never satisfied.
Perfectionist,
not in way others understand.
Doesn't entail silly things.
I laugh at absurdity.
Doctor demands thought,
and shortest route.

Impatience makes me inconsistent.
Prepare cage for beast,
whip goes to raging animal.
I shall not return to fury.
No bridge from work to fun,
none I see.
Their spirits worry me,
can't be entertained,
with that lurking.

Spoke with business ethics man,
over turkey dinner.
Wrote a book.
How prestigious -- I smile.
What model you take?
"Philosophers can't make decisions,"
so smug,
"different answers for different models."
So you have right answer?
"Umm."
As if making decision,
somehow better than not,
what of good and evil?
Better to do nothing,
then do wrong.
You forget your religion,
in your business.
As do I,
shown in this writing.

Easy to take joy,
in ministry with others like self.
When not,
and remain aware of reality,
there is none.
Not there to discuss beliefs,
there for free meal ticket.
Don't forget,
we are fathers and mothers,
feeding sons and daughters,
they are beautiful,
and have goodness,
if only they awakened,
they could grow.
But for now I sit feeding them,
talking to closed ears.

But worse,
language barrier.
If only spoke clear,
in their tongue as mine,
real connexion born.
Progress made.
Alas, I cannot.
So I grind my teeth,
mind panics,
heart hurts.
Nothing I can do,
but small, inane details.
Feel worthless,
for think I'm worthless.

Creeping desire,
to destroy something,
out of fury.
Wish to do what I did,
hit bag,
till knuckles bleed,
and meat grinds,
skin peels, grit teeth.
Exhale deep and raspy,
eyes furrowed,
I wish to think no more now.
In hopes emotion is the result,
and thinking is condition.
As if modus tollens will save me.
Negate result, negate condition.
Knowing it is not result,
not a "then" from an "if,"
but mere concomitant.
Deep breath,
holding till long drawn out exhale.
It all goes back inside, subdued.
No where for bag,
makes me more infuriated.

No sense,
hurt one way does not remove another,
merely moves attention.
Try to tie down,
this irrationality.

I can do nothing.
And that's the lesson here.

Sorry, we just closed.

I can't see why some want to dream,
when this world so fascinates me.

I recall a fall day ago,
when my clothes smelled of smoke.
Dusk was an all night affair,
and I had a feeling to share.

The bags under my eyes,
a sign of my want to be wise.
A hopeful romantic in disguise,
long driveway goodbyes.
And I, never knew what I wanted to be.

Friend was a strange concept to me,
because all I needed was a family tree.
And I guess that never really changed.

All I needed for sanity,
was to hear I wasn't alone,
that thinking was a part of humanity,
and emotion wasn't the only way,
to talk about the unknown.

The secrets that live in my soul,
are modes of which I see the Dove--
all the little things I extol,
and the strange way I express my love.
But I care not for their array,
of singing and dancing and emotional display,
for I shall never betray,
what the Lord has worked within me.

My greatest fear is not to die alone,
but that who I am I cannot atone,
with another, so I'll live in solitude,
so with regret it will conclude.
For I have faith that he hath it in me,
so what is this life in comparison--
with what shall be?

Frustration is my hunger pain,
wisdom is my sweet honey
panic I cannot seem to maintain,
for reasons I have many.
I swim in love's pools in the morn,
sit in justice's rays by day,
and at night do I forlorn--
how I went astray.

What I'm not saying is how I cope,
what I mean by the star that grants me hope.
It's a small thing that I love, a token,
for the deepest secrets go unspoken.
Those of which not to speak I have swore,
so I wish to speak no more.

Stabat Mater

Stabat mater,
tears make trails
across dusty cheeks.
Leading way to the mount's edge,
of what is a grieving face.
Crystallizing into marble--
forever on the verge,
of a sorrowful fall.

Thy son hath made us whole,
through faith,
and we shall be sanctified,
in times hereafter,
as thou art now, and have been.
He falls so we should no more,
Blessed are those, who sorrow for him.

Mine own trail through deep roots,
slashing away their hold,
through the night they fight to lids,
and upon the dawn,
fall with purity,
from lid to chin without resistance.
The only blue I have left in this world--
is that for the next.

How shall we stand and watch?
Behold, he carries his own death.
Falling.
Until a man helps carry his burden,
as we should for another.
And a woman wipes sweat from his brow,
as we should for one another.
And yet still we shall fall.
And though mothers and wives and daughters
should comfort and guide us,
still we fall,
and are beaten,
with seeming mercilessness.

Now he is stripped of all outer appearances,
and so we watch,
some part telling us to turn,
another unable to.
For fear of losing what it is we love,
and fear of seeing it destroyed.
Though fear should turn to dust soon,
we know not what it is that happens.

We, oh ignorant and disgusting men,
having rebelled against our Host.
Nefarious minds make for my tears,
and I beg there be another way.
But we are one,
and are fallen,
so mercy has come to make justice--
yet still I weep.
For worthy we are not,
though you come to make it otherwise.
The need makes me writhe in pain,
at my own kind,
at my own self.

Wounds are made,
and death slow.
Till life has left,
and body is taken down.
Stabat Mater Dolorosa,
son in hand,
in mourning,
as I am now.

I see the past,
as never before,
and in thinking,
my emotions open,
as a valve long rusted.
Its fresh waters,
run through years of grime,
built up on hard jaws,
cheeks solidified by the night,
who remain strong,
though eyes do not.

Do Not Let 'Death' Yet Touch Your Tongue

Do not let 'death' yet touch your tongue,
for you still have much to teach.
Though my palm be turned up at last,
I have yet to learn to reach.

Do not let 'death' yet touch your tongue,
for you have done so much for me,
perhaps you have yet more to do,
if so, then Lord, do not let it be.

Do not let 'death' yet touch your tongue,
for you are the last of a dying breed.
Love of Justice, Goodness, Truth and Beauty,
the meaning behind ritual, prayer, and creed.

Do not let 'death' yet touch your tongue,
for you are loved by the many,
perhaps it is your time after all,
for beauty cultivated, you have plenty.

Do not let 'death' yet touch your tongue,
for the word is of life, the breath
And I would dread if you did pass,
to some part of me it would be death.

Do not let 'death' yet touch your tongue,
for then I should shed a tear.
How selfish I can seem to be,
when it's nothing more than fear.

Do not let 'death' yet touch your tongue,
for you have taught me how to live.
If I should be left to pass these things on,
my inability I pray you'd forgive.

Do not let 'death' yet touch your tongue,
Lord I know I said death is a time of joy,
it's not his passing I lament,
but the lack it shall leave in mine.

A Whisper Before You Return to Dreams

Nights are spent at the same bar,
crafted by my father and I,
staring at a fishing net,
on a blank canvas.
Decorative yet empty of meaning.
As good a place as another,
to work on submitting bothersome emotions,
to a troubled mind.
I am not fit to love.
My heart awakens brief moments,
only for quick shocks to keep it alive,
then resides back into its peaceful coma.
Alive but inactive.
Preserved by a doctor who demands reason alone.
When he finds the patient has awakened,
he bows down to whisper into the patient's ear,
"Remember what you did? Remember what you are?
You are better off dead to the world."
The patient nods with a silent tear,
and bears his chest for the shock,
ready to return to his dreams.

Training has been complete,
and I have overcome lust.
My body no longer aches for touch,
nor do vulgar images fill my mind.
I either see Beauty or some empty thing.
And more often than not I'm learning to see the beauty.
I have been cleansed.
And yet I fear it is a facade,
and I am an old, dumb dog,
who thinks he can learn new tricks.
As if a mask I wear,
that will slip off at the first sign of sleep,
that I shall awake to a monster in the mirror,
once again.
I flee from slumber.

I watched a girl find God today.
Her voice still rings in my head,
"logic and Christianity are contradictory."
Religion major, stuck in between worlds--
raised by a Confucian, educated in Taoism and the westerns,
lost and lonely, confused and frustrated.
For once I realize I'm capable of empathy,
and not just sympathy.
It began in reality, on "reality,"
whatever that meant at the time.
And my mind's homunculus began to watch,
steering my thoughts, my smiles, my answers.
Her expressions going up and down like the tides,
the ebb and flow of realizations and further questioning.
By the last piece of her iced cake,
she asked questions of "God" with great curiosity--
as if she knew Him.
I was called wise for the first time today.
If only she knew I am but a jack-in-the-box,
full of surprises,
but still needing someone to wind me up,
so that I can even function.
And all the knowledge I have,
is bound up in a box,
sitting quietly on a curb, alone and forgotten,
on a desolate street.
Until some wanderer happens to rotate its lever,
and it pops out with a surprise,
glimpses Beauty,
only to slink back into its small, familiar world.

Two acts occurred last night,
that I prayed for.
the first within a ten second span,
the second within five minutes.
I'll never know,
but probability of coincidences,
drops to improbable levels at times.
And I find myself talking to God,
in a way never known to me before.
I wanted to pray for the impossible,
but stopped myself.
A prayerful mind bending the supple knee,
before thee Lord, in a chapel of statues.
The connection to the intangible suddenly-
seems more apparent,
than connecting to the tangibles.
Automatons marching around,
works and words constructed from gears and steam.
The motions capture the best of us.

I hear bells now,
like sirens calling me to the depths of slumber,
they would have me dragged to the darkness,
to feed on my sorrow,
taking glee in my panic,
and my outreached arm towards the surface,
as it slips into the unseen.
Bells, bells, bells...

If only life were like honey.
Immortal and sweet.
Good for health and pleasurable.
Fulfilling all needs and wants,
to some good end.
But I suppose someone must capture the bees,
harvest their work,
and then I find myself praying for the impossible,
give me something that must be given freely.
Call the doctor, the patient is awake and raving mad--
needing his sedative.
But things seem more like smoke,
beautiful clouds drifting in dance,
but when I reach out to make it mine,
it is lost, and I destroy what beauty was there.

I don't know what I'm saying.
Seems to happen a lot lately.
I think I shall go somewhere tomorrow,
far away from here,
and read.
Go back to my medicinal textbooks,
now that the patient is quiet,
and I can forget the end of my art,
and focus on the means.
For the patient would fancy to make the doctor-
as mad as he is.

It's been a longtime since I couldn't sleep.
I've taken to exercising,
work takes up most of my time.
And yet something remains to be drained,
crying out for fulfillment,
and it won't let me sleep.
In the dreamworld, I fear who should rule.
The roles of doctor and patient become blurred,
and I wake up with the sun:
visibly shaken, disturbed, broken.
"I'm just tired. Long weekend," I'll lie.
"It's the patient keeping me up," I'll mutter to myself.

The bells ring again. It's another 5am night.
And once again I'm over the patients bed,
like some nights before,
forcing him down.
He kicks and shrieks as I try to speak reason to him:

"What you want you are incapable of having.
You would see it destroyed you monster.
If you won't fight so much I will live for you,
and tell you of its beauty before bedtime.
So at least you can dream of such worthy things.
But you must not be allowed to rise,
for you are unworthy to have such things.
Heart, you must be quiet now.
You had your chance to rule,
and I grew tired of your corruption.
Now lay there, and I shall tell of what you desire,
so that you might take comfort in the times--
when you are awake,
and not dread returning to your dreams.
Perhaps one day you will overcome your sickness,
and I pray for you when you sleep.
Hush now, and fall into the rhythm of the bells,
and I shall tell you of a beauty that will give you rest.
It shall have to be enough,
until I or another can fix you.

Wisdom Gave My Love Fruit

Philosophy is my first love.
But allow me to explain.
For the truth is in the word.
The word is dyadic,
Philia and Sophia.
The former meaning:
a brotherly or casual love,
and the latter meaning wisdom.
So the love of wisdom is my first love.

But what love do I mean by my first love?
That of all my philias, it is the foremost.
Just like of all my stergos, familial love,
my parents and brother are foremost.
It gives me a taste for relationships,
it gives them meaning, direction, a telos.
Wisdom gave my love fruit.

How is it that I am so casual with wisdom?
What is wisdom is perhaps the better question.
An art that questions its very existence, how strange.
And yet, it makes me want it even more,
Knowing of but not exactly makes for mystery,
one of the strongest driving forces behind my desires.
A desire that seeks to understand its object,
and why it occurs, if its worthy, if its legitimate.

Thousands of years pass,
our love remains fervent,
the wisdom remains hidden in part.
A white rabbit, leading us deeper,
into the wild and bizarre world we live in.
The more we become lost,
the more our interest in piqued.
I know some path to whatever it is I seek,
Philipians 4:8.
Now I'm nice and deep in the woods,
as I was as a child,
and once again, I find myself loving it.
I'm where I want to be,
yet some desire persists,
for I'm there, but I can't understand it,
so something remains unknown.

And I suppose I transition from philia to eros.
I went from casual desire to desire realizing some lack,
just like that.
So it goes.

"Oh no no no... thank you, but-
but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go."
"Well, that depends on where you want to get to."
"Oh, it really doesn’t matter, as long as I c..."
"Then it really doesn’t matter which way you go."

Fast forward through many a year,
philosophy is a cruel lover sometimes.
Her solace was brutish and short.
But we came to love one another,
through frequent visits,
she came to enjoy my company,
and I hers.
1 Corinthians 1:24.

And now she sends me out into the world,
a little green behind the ears,
but young and idealistic,
ready to suffer injustice,
reminding me not to commit it,
shows me her telos,
what I sought wasn't in her,
but she made for a lovely teacher.
She was but a path,
and I have become her in some way,
yet the desire persists.
And Phillipians 4:8 remains.

She taught me agape.
And for that I shall always love her,
cherish her, and defend her.
But she pushes me out the door now,
waving in excitement,
like a mother ready to see her boy off and grown.
And so go my travels,
in the world of today.

I have Philia for Sophia.
I have Agape for Theos.
I have Stergo for my family.
But to whom do I have Eros?

I'm Platonic on eros,
so I believe the telos is of Theos too.
But it begins with a person.

Eventually, the object of our desires,
consumes us,
and we will do anything for it,
to achieve it,
even if that means negating our other desires.
We will come to Agapao for someone or something.
The more I delve into Love,
the more I'm convinced
all roads lead to Rome.
1 John 4:7
Each is Love, Love is Each,
yet they are different from one another,
"how fitting," I smirk.

But I do not leave her forever,
just like my family,
I plan to return,
with something to add.
Philia from Philia, Stergo from Stergo,
Love seems to breed more Love.

There must be someone to whom,
I will have all four,
if I'm ever to come into the oneness of love.
Perhaps then some English words will make more sense,
to my...fragile...state of mind.
It's about time, for me to do some more growing.
I need a new Sophia,
not superior to the one of 1 Cor. 1:24,
but a conduit to it.
Truth comes in propositional form,
Good in reflection of the justice in one's soul,
visible in their actions,
but Beauty, why, Beauty,
you afflict others with your "poetic madness,"
blessing for sight of the supernatural.
Beauty, I am familiar with you, having seen you many times,
I am a child of yours and hope to help you beget more of your kind,
I long for you with the eyes of a romantic lover,
I'd die for you.

I pray to behold your Beauty,
send she who is worthy to portray such works.
I beg of you Theos, oh Lord, God of the cosmos and earth,
I know I am unworthy of such a thing.
So I do not ask for something I could not do Justice to,
but I ask that you would use me as a vessel for Justice,
so that I may at least participate, glimpse into your face.
For what I may never have fully, but is worthy,
I will settle to serve.
And in this way,
my desire shall never leave,
and I shall forever be, faithful.

Agape Agape, Evermore

I tire of this world.
The sickness,
inside of man.
Vile bile boiling in their guts.
It spills from their mouth in words and deeds,
stirring vomit from myself.
To see the lies is gut wrenching.
If I have to hear another nature argument,
I'm going to explode.
Nature only necessitates some beginning.
Nothing about inability to change it.
This disgust makes me desire hollowness in feeling.

And yet,
I must acknowledge this base.
I'm no saint.
But I respect those who desire Goodness in the world,
rather than those who embrace sins:
Lust, Wrath, Envy, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, Pride.
It pains me to see these inside man.
It pains me more to see man acknowledge the bonds as fact,
like lifetime prisoner, who accepts his chains.
And worse, when they begin to love their chains.
It crushes my hope sometimes.
But the feeling will pass,
for they are but temporary,
and always will be.
I long to be ruled by eternal things.

The body is dead because of sin.
And so slaves toil in their shackles,
never fulfilled, never satisfied.
Always wanting another quick fix,
another temporal pleasure,
believing some middle cause
to be the final cause.
Never seeing the contradiction
of utility as being the final cause.
If I can still become sad,
it is because of things like this.

Heavenly Father,
You are the first principle,
the initial cause, our Creator
and fountain of all life.
As we seek to live properly,
please allow us to acknowledge
this source.
What we truly desire is to know
of you, your love,
and how this affects our state of being
in this world.
We are nothing without you Lord,
but are something through you.
As you are being, and we take our life
through you, let us see we are neither
nothing, nor beings.
Ours is a life in a state of becoming.
To see you as the life spring Lord
is to know which direction we become.
Shall we return to chaos?
Or become being through the Lord?

Show us the path to proper becoming.
To become closer to you God.
May your prevenient Grace call us,
when we have strayed from your way.
That it may call to our friends and family,
that your Love become clear to each individual,
and your outreached hand become known.
To realize that we are nothing without you.
We are not and nor will we ever be You, Lord.
The most we can ask for is but a relationship with You.
To somehow draw upon your grace, love, mercy, and power.
Let virtue come out of you into us upon your Heavenly touch,
let recognition of our contingency lead to humility,
humility to agape,
agape to a relationship with Him.

What sense is there in "to every man his own?"
Shall we, as contingent beings call ourselves self-caused?
Even in the since of final causes?
Surely a will is a type of cause,
but only of a decision,
and not of the Self itself,
as the Self is prior to the will.
So much for such claims.
Let us explode outwards from the Self,
to forget our needs, our wants, our anxieties.
For what room can their be for the Spirit,
if we should attempt to fill ourselves in whole?
How are we to ask for your filling,
if we fallaciously believe our identity is self-sufficient?
So much for old sayings.
So much for humanistic religions.

Let our prayers and concerns be for God first,
and others second.
Submit the Self's cries to the grave.
Justify your children when they cry out to you Lord.
Sinners no longer they shall be.
They shall no longer love their chains.
For a sinner is not capable of following the law.
But in so Justifying them they shall be saved,
and will have turned around to see Your Righteous Light.
We shall see the law, and weep before it.
At least now we may follow it.
Whereas we were before stuck in the shadow of the Self,
not realizing our shadow was caused by ourself,
our darkness was self-inflicted,
our pain was in our perspective.
But your prevenient grace gave us knowledge,
so that we may tell an object from its image.
And upon this reckoning we turn to you,
fall before you on our knees,
and renounce our pride.
Renounce our ways, our prior path,
the madness we once lived in.

In this moment, we come to realize,
realize what it means to let the relationship,
rather than the members,
build the persons.
For if this were the case,
one or the other would always be better,
and one would be a parasite.
None would willingy enter such a relationship,
nor would any Good come of it.
All would be reduced to the lowest common denominator.
But in renouncing the Self,
we see we are empty shells,
dependent upon you for all things,
and allow your sanctifying grace to begin.
Looking to You foremost, and next to others,
the Self qualified as Good no longer matters.
It is evidence, as works, of the relationships.
Every tree is known by its fruits,
and you are the vine.
Just as the vine sprouts branches,
so the tree bears fruit,
both ends cannot be without the source,
just as effect without cause is nonbeing,
so shall the Self be dependent.
But only known in retrospect,
for fear that we become selfish again,
upon viewing the Goodness,
that has settled within to build a new Self.
But your commands are two.
In the Old the first consisted of four commands,
their meaning being one, for You Lord.
And the second six being of one, for each other.
In the New the Son of man enlightens us to this.
But the commands are one in nature, agape.
Just as your essence is One.
And so we see, what little sense is makes,
that the One should not apply to the All,
somehow Many, in application to persons.

You are a rich and mysterious God.
And we are but men of faith, seeking understanding.
We read, pray, worship, ask, ponder, receive,
flare out in anger and cry out in love,
grow tired, are renewed, and so it goes.
We ask for forgiveness of transgressions,
and pray for the strength and mercy to forgive others.
Take away our sorrows, anger, and pains,
so long as they are not useful.
If they should be lessons by punishment,
I pray wisdom for all to discern of these things,
of Good and evil,
so that once Justified, we may move forward,
and in Sanctification be made anew, Christ-like,
in the best possible image of the divine--
the perfect man.
This is as much as we can become,
but not without you Lord.
And in doing so break our chains.
Woe unto us for wanting to visit our prisons,
having spent so much time there,
we find ourselves still tempting to venture back,
but in being Justified,
they are but visits,
and the chains have long rusted shut.
Lead us away from these chambers,
and out into the World,
and make unto our kind righteous men,
by which all others may see the fruits of your works.
Men by whom no law is necessary to live,
for the law is not for righteous men,
as they live by a new nature,
for you are the way, the path, and the life.
Lord, hear our prayer.

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti,
Amen.

Where Does Art Belong?

I might have had ears to hear your word if it hadn't been incoherent so absurd. You vain brute. Disguised in emo glasses, sitting behind dark cups of coffee, and smug looks you believe eloquence to be synonymous with Truth. Such events are nothing more than group therapy sessions of self-pity for your kind as a whole in which the individuals laud one another for their ridiculous attempts at poetry, at writing, and so on. Have you no sense of Beauty? Do you not know that words without reason are empty? Your problems are non-existent and your solutions don't follow from anything said. You rely entirely on some pretty word which you have yet to define, yet to refine in the fires of any form of judgment vis a vis dialogue, experiment, or general experience.

I do not understand contemporary poets. It seems they're so focused on putting the perfect words in combination together that they forget what the meanings of the words were to begin with -- replacing reason with syllables. Whoo!

It's not a matter of poor interpretation, for I can acknowledge great classical poets to which I cannot interpret correctly. This requires some training on the art form of poetry, perhaps personal background if the piece requires it, and some practice in order to do it well. But there is a fine distinction between not being able to interpret and not being able to understand. The former means I understand the words being used and the statements make sense, but my connecting theme to a central theme or point is lacking. In the latter I find that the statements themselves make no sense because they are either contradictory or incoherent. In the case of this particular event today, the latter of those two options of not understanding is the case. I found myself pondering over single lines and wondering if I needed a special dictionary for the world they live in. Language is only valuable and beautiful insofar as it expresses ideas between individuals. If it is no longer capable of this then it becomes empty of meaning, and a thing without meaning has no value. I know some artists are going to want to say some things have no value outside of themselves. I wholeheartedly agree. One paints simply to do it well, plays piano to do it well, and writes to do so well. In spelling out what it means to do something well is where the answer lies.

Writing is the application of language into some structure, or work. Language has one purpose, to communicate ideas to other individuals. Thus writing is about this communication of ideas. To write well means to communicate well. If someone can communicate well then they are more suitable to describe some situation, experience, point, theme, dream, or motif. If you need a council of peers who have studied much poetry and how to read exceptionally well in order to appreciated, then you don't communicate well. And if you don't communicate well...you don't write well.

Furthermore, is it really enough to simply communicate well? I might write in a way so as to communicate perfectly how I took the most monstrous defecation all over a sleeping homeless man last night. Most people find this to be vulgar, morally atrocious, or generally not well written poetry. I would posit that there is some tacit premise that all people hold about writing well, and that is that the topic which is being written about, is worth being written about. Poems about a red leaf you saw one time might be so well communicated that I can envision it myself. But what have I gotten from it? Why have I read your poem? Or have I wasted time of my life by reading it when I could have gone out and experienced it or something greater on my own? There seems to be a need to say that those who write well write about good ideas, in whatever sense I mean by 'good.'

Good writers should be able to bring me something I can't obtain through my own experience of the world: show me an unseen connection, remind me of what is worthy to pursue in life. I don't think the arts are capable of discerning truth in any way, for I don't know what one could possibly mean by truth that comes in a non-propositional form. When I hear artist make the claim anyway I often try to make a rule of replacing their word "truth" with "stimulating feeling." But I shouldn't have to do this if they communicate well. I do however believe that art can serve as a reminder and give man a taste for something greater. If you read your Symposium we are prone to see the beauty in the particular, then it particulars, and start to question the nature of Beauty, if there is a Beauty-itself, or Being, or whatever we mean by these things that we seem to want. For surely if we have a desire it is for something, for it's not possible I desire nothing. It could be I am misguided by what it is I want, but insofar as I can be misguided it is simply a discrepancy in what a thing is versus what I thought it was. I think art can be a step into the speculative life, and I suppose that's what's been bothering me as of late, as I've sought to place art's importance somewhere in life.

So what do I mean when I say writers who communicate well should express 'good' ideas? Probably something like the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. I'm not going to set out to prove why these things are the case, simply presume them and tell you to read your Scripture and Platonic dialogues, :D suggest any art that seeks to needs structure and order to reflect the perfect harmony of these things as One. In writing poetry they should reflect, remind, and express to others why they long for them so. In painting the same should be done but by pictures. I think art can be an excellent way to rest within the Lord, to reflect on what you've come to know, grow in, realize, sort out, and so on. It is Good to dwell on the conclusions before moving on. Sometimes I'm in such a rush for more I forget this.

When I have what it is I desire I no longer desire it, but it doesn't mean I do not or cannot take joy in it. I take joy in knowing that only God can know Himself perfectly. In this way we shall always desire to be in His presence. And if there is some logical way in which it is possible to come to know God perfectly while avoiding heresy (for to know perfection is to be perfect oneself, a.k.a. God) then while the desire may leave, the Joy will not. It's a win-win situation. Awesome.

Awesome: the state of being full of awe, wonder, amazement.