“The higher we soar the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly.”Friedrich Nietzsche
It’s been more than three weeks since I’ve released a piece. That may be the longest I went without sitting down to write something for my blog. As I was moving occupations, my brain was rather jumbled up between adapting to new territory and trying to contemplate things worthy of being written on paper. Though in reality, true contemplation doesn’t require this ‘trying’, it must happen undemandingly and gracefully without the use of force. Novel pursuits engulf you in many ways, for if you find them engaging and compelling enough, they bury you in their subtleties. In other words, they provoke your thoughts, leaving you no time to turn away your attention to something else. Now, this is no justification to my hiatus, of course, but if you carefully observe the nature of things you find riveting, you will realise that they have the potency to keep you deeply focused, even obsessed with the present. As a matter of fact, when a person is immersed, he only comes to this very sense once he has withdrawn his attention. At that moment of immersion, you forget everything; your consciousness is solitary and unified. Further, by solitary I don’t necessarily mean lonely, but rather out of your own way and concurrently consolidated and brought together with your whole being.
I think the essence of enjoying the presence lies in being truly and unreservedly engaged in everything you’re carrying out, in thoroughly forgetting that part of yourself that makes you supremely tense, highly strung and paranoid. When you abandon your worries, a magical shift takes place. Your whole being transforms into a married awareness accompanied by a lucidity of thought and tranquility of mind that appears to the common brand of men as strange yet supernatural. It has a mystical element to it which man is deprived of; unsurprisingly, we, with all our anxieties and neurosis and sicknesses have habituated ourselves to feeling isolated, apprehensive, perpetually agitated and constantly on edge with ourselves. So much so that in an age of anxiety such intelligibility and lucidness is often perceived as mad derangement. Naturally, to the unhinged fool, anything that approximates a sure sanity will appear to him as disorder and lunacy – this is of course nothing more than a casting of his own imbecility. And until the fool casts off his own stupidity, his discernment and awareness are incessantly in jeopardy and unquestionably lead astray. I am not of the view that the fool should be converted. I no longer make an effort to confer sight on the blind, for as so long as they enjoy their blindness and don’t feel impeded by it, irrespective of how destructive, no effort from my end will be of any service. Actually, on the contrary, it may compel them to rebel with a greater passion in favour of their own slow imperceptiveness.
I don’t think there’s a more ruinous revolt than that antipathy and hostility that accommodates a weak man’s unconsciousness and idiocy. Defiance is of the manly essence, but when a man rebels against the good, rather than the degenerate, in that he makes a harsh effort to ignore the truth and fails to bravely dare it, he stupidly misplaces his disobedience, not to elevate his nature and extricate himself from passableness, but to subdue and crush everything he could be. Let us not forget the juncture at which such disobedience takes place and at what expense. To be insubordinate is consequential, even more vital is to be consciously defiant against everything that deteriorates your own essence, as that truly is the genesis from which your offering to the world comes forth. If one corrupts his soul, he subsequently alters and subverts his transcendent purpose. A man can’t honourably carry out his impetus in this existence if his spirit has been turned on its head, contaminated with vice and coerced against its own fundamental grain. A fertile spirit is necessary for the germination and shooting up of one’s merit and purity.
If truth be told, being insubordinate in favour of the highest possible good is a burden of responsibility, possibly a greater burden, for being conscious of the unprocessed truth means suffering the ramifications of its acrimony and consequently being courageous and faithful enough to accept it – the strayed common man doesn’t pay this price because he has, quite haplessly, grown to be fond of his servitude, and even set out to shelter it from being taken away from him. Driven by terror of the unknown and a most oblivious attachment, it turns into a matter of life and death; either subjugation or annihilation. It’s not a pleasant picture, but the more truth you come to realise, the more you hold the common man in cool contempt and indifference, discerning before your eyes the perpetual fool’s paradise of deception.
That’s the thing; the more you separate yourself from the crowd, the more leverage you hold in picking out everything that’s unsound, defective, ugly and false. And you’ll be surprised to what extent it is fallacious and faithless. For a crowd so easily deceived, so inclined to compliance, can’t possibly be unhypocritical or rightly sincere or sensible. For that reason, it has become increasingly crucial to pick out your allies wisely and not passionately, as you will in due course regret the latter, but seldomly the former. Our task is not to have as many allies as possible, as a means to flex with plentiful ‘connections’, but to have a few, carefully selected and matured, who can broaden our already upstanding horizons, with the object of reciprocating that same merit to their culture. If you’re an honourable friend, after all, you would feel indebted and inclined to elevate your friends in return to the respect and worth they encapsulate, for the ascent is more glorious, memorable and life-giving when you’re among the company of those you trust and have faith in.
Great company is vital, though solitude has its time and place, so do the finest men – man unconsciously craves and seeks brotherhood because he needs it more than he thinks, it is simply that it has become increasingly laborious to form a brotherhood worth sustaining, and that’s exactly why so many men are deprived of that kind of virile alliance without truly understanding the implication of ‘why’ there is such an insidious alienation permeating our degenerate culture. That sort of estrangement that comes from insufficiency, vulnerability, wretchedness is dangerous, I suppose more dangerous when it becomes a rife occurrence amid the most terrible chaos. The fit and singular are simply not disposed to mingle with the inadequate, the docile, the controllable, the passive, the meek, the effeminate – more often than not, they have already encircled themselves around the fittest possible males, and they are unwilling to compromise that favourable state of affairs to give their underlings a chance they are unprepared to leverage, by their indisposition. Thus should be the chief aim of the substandard man; to enlarge himself to such an extent that he is worthy and capable enough to associate with the estimable. Trying to find the right company in the wrong environment and the wrong frame of mind is a recipe for frustration and defeat.
A man of potentiality, then, must make sufficient headway so that other competent men, superior to his capability, can single it out and endow him with an advantageous set of circumstances that he can wield to his benefit. I cannot stress enough, the importance of attuning yourself to the most fitting domain possible. I think we forget the important and marked impact of a truly constructive and profitable territory while easily overlooking the adverse and detrimental effects of tying yourself to an abortive territory. I suppose, this is a consequence of one’s incapacity to look at his own intimate state for what it is, without deliberately or insensibly shutting his eyes to the serious limitations and difficulties that circle his milieu. The framework within which you find yourself is changeable, but only to the degree that you take absolute responsibility of your situation, without resorting to indigent, ill-founded justifications to circumvent the river of change, or shall I say, to evade the suffering that is tied to the transfiguration of your consciousness and being. Man must not only hold sway over his external framework, but be dominant enough so as to adapt it to fit his necessities and objects. Man’s basic needs, furthermore, should, by virtue of having a melodic trajectory, be in accordance with his higher aims. Noble aims can’t be cultivated in ruinous environments, in the same way a flower can’t sprout where no light could be cast upon it.
If you are determined to take on the burden, you must undo yourself from detrimental influence, and the way you do that is by learning to move on when your efforts have proved vain, for no amount of single-mindedness is usable if you’re perpetually impeded and concurrently ignoring the enmity that encircles you. If you’re apprehensive to unfasten, I’d like for you to realise that no amount of forethought will alter or alleviate that apprehension in and of itself, for the only means to thoroughly annihilate worry is by hurling yourself without going through prior anticipation. The more you torment yourself by fixation, the more it frequents you. It rapidly eats you up until you’re immovable, so beset by anxiety that a kind of frozen senselessness befalls your consciousness. I don’t think there are ample senses more dreadful than agonising over the nauseating taste of ruin, of impending doom – that stems from the most blind oblivion. And the miserable part about it is that such a sense is absurd, even irrelevant, more often than not. Now, I will not go so far as to say that it is meaningless and in vain, for I believe something could be said of a telling and pregnant anxiety that could, if followed carefully to its end, be illuminating. However, man must not suffocate for too long, for such folly will in due course turn into an inveterate and persistent disease that destroys more than it constructs.
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