Wildcat’s favorites
Recently commented on
“There is neither a materialization of thought, nor a spiritualization of language; language and thought are only two moments of one and the same reality.”
Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Specter of a Pure Language, translation by John O’Neill
Prologue
She came from the order of beyond.. and ..
Of course she was bored, how else could it be when she was the one who knew, well, if not everything there is to know, just about. The reason she was bored was simple, she felt she could not be compromised, but the world wanted her to.
She didn’t, she never will, she was bored because the world kept on asking her to compromise.
The demand was boring, her response obvious, natural, almost ontological.
Yet, having the presence of the spirit of the multiverse dialoging within itself, knowing the necessary condition of holding multiple viewpoints simultaneously, her primary interest was the creation of common meaning.
Thus she sat and devised the sense of overcoming the limits of her acceptance, a strategy that was to change everything.
She gave birth to the new Duende.
A watershed of sensation
The hot oven of her pantheistic mind, a watershed of sensation, produced much more than philosophy, she was creating odd and quite dormant insights into the nature of ascension.
It was a capacity she was developing as other sources were dismissed as irrelevant. The evidence however points to her unique love and feel for the other’s self pride.
She defined a simultaneous love on account of her impossibility of loving alone.
In dire need of creating a cure for her love she invented that which not only freezes the pain of being in this world but also that which might bring a utopian state unto her mind.
She was highly adept at re-inventing the storytelling device in her demanding fashion.
She knew that no substance could be its own cause, not only because essence cannot be conceived as existing, but primarily because substance couldn’t be defined without limits. Thus her demanding fashion was the irrefutable story of limits as the logic of consistency, not only about the world but also more particularly about her love.
According to her extended mind, the process of her reason was a love of limits, that was just as necessary as the substance itself, one could not in truth exist without the other.
The way she chose to embed the ontology of her story was by conceiving the attributes of limits, as the characteristics of her love, hence her substance, though undefined, was free to be.
This thought brought her to a certainty about the supreme beauty of the undeniable nature of limits. In this she was able to bring the concept of limits upon her own love as the very defining feature of the essence of mind.
Or the substance of mind..
Necessarily she needed to defend the apparent inconsistency in her vision of what will constitute a love that cannot be broken through, she did not presume, she accepted the limits.
Indeed she insisted on limits as a necessary naïve form of realism, her solitude the only manifestation of her connectivity. For she knew that philosophy is not about the love of wisdom, it’s about the limits of her love, her insistent passion for a criterion of beingness that cannot be dissolved nor corrupted.
That is when she lost the arrogance of her youth.
For she realized that she needed to explain the limits of her love by extending the substance of she into a multiple singularity.
When she explained to them how her limits manifest, he was flabbergasted. Of course he knew about the game, being a player himself, nevertheless she was the myth in action and theirs was an untenable position.
She said:
“The game is rigged, but of course, that is not news. The game is flawed, obviously, a non-issue. The doors of perception are only slightly ajar, our free-willies are maybe good enough to >choose> Pocahontas over Bieber Barbie.. “
T-He-Y quoted Oscar Wilde, (from: An Ideal Husband)
“Do you really think … that it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations that it requires strength, strength and courage, to yield to. To stake all one’s life on a single moment, to risk everything on one throw, whether the stake be power or pleasure, I care not there is no weakness in that.”
They paused the game and looked at her
She said: “ You may think me hard and unkind, tough and cynical, that might appear so, I grant you that, but let me tell you this, our future will be lost without a self imposed limit, though the limit is not on our love, but on the extent of our singularities, for substance demands direction.”
What she knew:
She knew that Garcia reflected upon the reason of being in the world as an uncomfortable proposition, she knew that this was not the best of all possible worlds, she also knew however that to be a living poetic machine, a process can never be stopped and must be allowed to complete its cycle before it can be reported to it’s core of origins.
She knew that sweeping generalizations are exactly the fashion by which the truth of the matter becomes the matter of the truth and thus creates the pitfall from which no love can rise.
She knew that the experience of being cannot be left untouched for if even one simple kind of different experience rises, the otherness of the experience will destroy the core.
She knew all this and much more, she created a cure, a living, and breathing, material Duende.
A different love story
To her mind Duende was a crucible, a cauldron, hot and continuously stirred by the emotional winds of her passion. An intense poetic machine busily re-describing the sense of being into a directed sense thought able to revolutionize the experience of substance as love..
Or nothingness..
The inspiring continuity was born of her love, of her difference, of her desire to create an astonishing experience of being, an awe-inspiring interestingness, all encompassing, totalizing.
The future was clear now
She came from the order of beyond.. and ..
Her love was different, so was her Duende.
—
Part of the Ultrashort project
—
A note:
This particular Ultrashort is dedicated to a real and most immediate being, to which I am most grateful in making my own mind greater than what it could have been other than wise.
Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Specter of a Pure Language, translation by John O’Neill
Prologue
She came from the order of beyond.. and ..
Of course she was bored, how else could it be when she was the one who knew, well, if not everything there is to know, just about. The reason she was bored was simple, she felt she could not be compromised, but the world wanted her to.
She didn’t, she never will, she was bored because the world kept on asking her to compromise.
The demand was boring, her response obvious, natural, almost ontological.
Yet, having the presence of the spirit of the multiverse dialoging within itself, knowing the necessary condition of holding multiple viewpoints simultaneously, her primary interest was the creation of common meaning.
Thus she sat and devised the sense of overcoming the limits of her acceptance, a strategy that was to change everything.
She gave birth to the new Duende.
A watershed of sensation
The hot oven of her pantheistic mind, a watershed of sensation, produced much more than philosophy, she was creating odd and quite dormant insights into the nature of ascension.
It was a capacity she was developing as other sources were dismissed as irrelevant. The evidence however points to her unique love and feel for the other’s self pride.
She defined a simultaneous love on account of her impossibility of loving alone.
In dire need of creating a cure for her love she invented that which not only freezes the pain of being in this world but also that which might bring a utopian state unto her mind.
She was highly adept at re-inventing the storytelling device in her demanding fashion.
She knew that no substance could be its own cause, not only because essence cannot be conceived as existing, but primarily because substance couldn’t be defined without limits. Thus her demanding fashion was the irrefutable story of limits as the logic of consistency, not only about the world but also more particularly about her love.
According to her extended mind, the process of her reason was a love of limits, that was just as necessary as the substance itself, one could not in truth exist without the other.
The way she chose to embed the ontology of her story was by conceiving the attributes of limits, as the characteristics of her love, hence her substance, though undefined, was free to be.
This thought brought her to a certainty about the supreme beauty of the undeniable nature of limits. In this she was able to bring the concept of limits upon her own love as the very defining feature of the essence of mind.
Or the substance of mind..
Necessarily she needed to defend the apparent inconsistency in her vision of what will constitute a love that cannot be broken through, she did not presume, she accepted the limits.
Indeed she insisted on limits as a necessary naïve form of realism, her solitude the only manifestation of her connectivity. For she knew that philosophy is not about the love of wisdom, it’s about the limits of her love, her insistent passion for a criterion of beingness that cannot be dissolved nor corrupted.
That is when she lost the arrogance of her youth.
For she realized that she needed to explain the limits of her love by extending the substance of she into a multiple singularity.
When she explained to them how her limits manifest, he was flabbergasted. Of course he knew about the game, being a player himself, nevertheless she was the myth in action and theirs was an untenable position.
She said:
“The game is rigged, but of course, that is not news. The game is flawed, obviously, a non-issue. The doors of perception are only slightly ajar, our free-willies are maybe good enough to >choose> Pocahontas over Bieber Barbie.. “
T-He-Y quoted Oscar Wilde, (from: An Ideal Husband)
“Do you really think … that it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations that it requires strength, strength and courage, to yield to. To stake all one’s life on a single moment, to risk everything on one throw, whether the stake be power or pleasure, I care not there is no weakness in that.”
They paused the game and looked at her
She said: “ You may think me hard and unkind, tough and cynical, that might appear so, I grant you that, but let me tell you this, our future will be lost without a self imposed limit, though the limit is not on our love, but on the extent of our singularities, for substance demands direction.”
What she knew:
She knew that Garcia reflected upon the reason of being in the world as an uncomfortable proposition, she knew that this was not the best of all possible worlds, she also knew however that to be a living poetic machine, a process can never be stopped and must be allowed to complete its cycle before it can be reported to it’s core of origins.
She knew that sweeping generalizations are exactly the fashion by which the truth of the matter becomes the matter of the truth and thus creates the pitfall from which no love can rise.
She knew that the experience of being cannot be left untouched for if even one simple kind of different experience rises, the otherness of the experience will destroy the core.
She knew all this and much more, she created a cure, a living, and breathing, material Duende.
A different love story
To her mind Duende was a crucible, a cauldron, hot and continuously stirred by the emotional winds of her passion. An intense poetic machine busily re-describing the sense of being into a directed sense thought able to revolutionize the experience of substance as love..
Or nothingness..
The inspiring continuity was born of her love, of her difference, of her desire to create an astonishing experience of being, an awe-inspiring interestingness, all encompassing, totalizing.
The future was clear now
She came from the order of beyond.. and ..
Her love was different, so was her Duende.
—
Part of the Ultrashort project
—
A note:
This particular Ultrashort is dedicated to a real and most immediate being, to which I am most grateful in making my own mind greater than what it could have been other than wise.
Tue, Jul 24, 2012 Permanent link
Categories: future, Mind, ultrashorts, Sci-fi, collective intelligence, collective intelligence,Rhizomatics,Duende,
Categories: future, Mind, ultrashorts, Sci-fi, collective intelligence, collective intelligence,Rhizomatics,Duende,
 |
RSS for this post |
Add comment
| Promote (12) |
|
Add to favorites (1)
|
| Synapses (4) |
|
Connected to
