I have a problem and one that is unlimited. For instance, I just suggested that real shamanism, as opposed to the flaky, flaky Shamanism Lite, would give you an "everlasting guarantee". I have no idea what that means, really. An everlasting guarantee of what? There's the guarantee of a slippage. That's between you and conventionally accepted reality. Knowledge about life doesn't guarantee as much as one's assurety in being does. One resorts to feeling the weight of one's anchor, but it's not a good way to feel secure.
I realized, when this crazy person began talking to me via email, that I had an anchor other than where I had thought it must be put. I had thought I was craving stability, but I could not have been more mistaken. Actually, I had to go down to my roots. Then I saw only an interest in militarism and the insecurity of a life constantly on the war path. I thought I craved more security, whilst in truth I envied a life where I could live more by my wits.
I get confused in all sorts of ways by the very meaning of my words and this has always happened to me. There is trauma in that too -- my father's beatings. An excess of enthusiasm is viewed as impertinence, as is unanticipated caution, as is too-obvious circumspection, as is not already knowing everything there is to know. All can come across, in certain lights, as aggression and impertinence.
But then there is my unconscious mind, which blurts things out. It's clear I have the guarantee about me that adheres -- a form of communication between me and myself.
When I think of what I'm guaranteed of, it is nothing. I know that I don't lean heavily on knowledge anymore, and that ontology, the knowledge of our beings, if lent on too aggressively, can also give way. I think, then, my guarantee is simply self-reliance. If one or the other of these things gives way, I will adapt and make it work.
So I'm guaranteed that the shamanic slippage buys me a reprieve, perhaps from too much narrowness and basic ideology, which expresses itself in an exaggerated hostility.
In the mean time I have learned that nothing I am doing is necessarily wrong. The weird sense of wanting to live on the edge is possible if one has been genetially and instinctively conditioned for it. In the mean time, there is this slippage -- saying things that I have no idea about. And you can see, it's taken me more than six paragraphs to catch up with myself.
This mode of being and reacting inclines one to a tone of joviality. The membrane between unconscious and conscious minds may be too thin, but one reacts with an excessive spirit of delight and informality. As Bataille says of "Mr Nietzsche", he speaks to me in intimacy and via a mode of lacerated being.
What is the real philosophy then? It is suffering, says Bataille.
Not the Lite philosophy, not the thinking that defaults to analytical reason.
Bataille pronounces: I used to think I couldn't keep up with those others guys, who were much better at the analysis stuff, but I found that I was wrong, that the violence within me does more than enough to keep me in a competitive vein. He meant he could see things they couldn't -- the ways in which their own modes of analytical reason had been foreclosed on by violence. As products of violence themselves, the contemporary philosophers of his day were unable to think outside of the dominant paradigm. But there is a certain violence that ruptures itself and gets beyond -- and there is a lot to be said for it.
I realized, when this crazy person began talking to me via email, that I had an anchor other than where I had thought it must be put. I had thought I was craving stability, but I could not have been more mistaken. Actually, I had to go down to my roots. Then I saw only an interest in militarism and the insecurity of a life constantly on the war path. I thought I craved more security, whilst in truth I envied a life where I could live more by my wits.
I get confused in all sorts of ways by the very meaning of my words and this has always happened to me. There is trauma in that too -- my father's beatings. An excess of enthusiasm is viewed as impertinence, as is unanticipated caution, as is too-obvious circumspection, as is not already knowing everything there is to know. All can come across, in certain lights, as aggression and impertinence.
But then there is my unconscious mind, which blurts things out. It's clear I have the guarantee about me that adheres -- a form of communication between me and myself.
When I think of what I'm guaranteed of, it is nothing. I know that I don't lean heavily on knowledge anymore, and that ontology, the knowledge of our beings, if lent on too aggressively, can also give way. I think, then, my guarantee is simply self-reliance. If one or the other of these things gives way, I will adapt and make it work.
So I'm guaranteed that the shamanic slippage buys me a reprieve, perhaps from too much narrowness and basic ideology, which expresses itself in an exaggerated hostility.
In the mean time I have learned that nothing I am doing is necessarily wrong. The weird sense of wanting to live on the edge is possible if one has been genetially and instinctively conditioned for it. In the mean time, there is this slippage -- saying things that I have no idea about. And you can see, it's taken me more than six paragraphs to catch up with myself.
This mode of being and reacting inclines one to a tone of joviality. The membrane between unconscious and conscious minds may be too thin, but one reacts with an excessive spirit of delight and informality. As Bataille says of "Mr Nietzsche", he speaks to me in intimacy and via a mode of lacerated being.
What is the real philosophy then? It is suffering, says Bataille.
Not the Lite philosophy, not the thinking that defaults to analytical reason.
Bataille pronounces: I used to think I couldn't keep up with those others guys, who were much better at the analysis stuff, but I found that I was wrong, that the violence within me does more than enough to keep me in a competitive vein. He meant he could see things they couldn't -- the ways in which their own modes of analytical reason had been foreclosed on by violence. As products of violence themselves, the contemporary philosophers of his day were unable to think outside of the dominant paradigm. But there is a certain violence that ruptures itself and gets beyond -- and there is a lot to be said for it.
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