876. What are we, if not self-contained infinity, a conglomeration of insistence trying to attain full consciousness? An admittedly, still very primitive consciousness condemned to solitude and in search out of its isolation. A distance separates us, not only from the infinite possibility of the other, but also from the dark abyss of the self. We are just as surprised by an inner world, pulling us back into our singularity, as we are by an outer one, pushing us forth into multiplicity. Science, that tentacle of human reason, has attentively approached the outer and inner frontiers of understanding, and now resorts to poetics to fill in the gaps of its comprehension, and philosophy, wisdom’s well, struggles against rampant scepticism and nihilistic despair, where all “truth” is trapped in a web of humble perspectivism and uncertainty. In the incomplete awareness of essence we are simultaneously faced with an accompanying emptiness, a vast gradation of desolate spaces dancing with time - a priori synthesis or not - to create matter out of nothing at all; elementary particles miraculously springing out of a vacuum in a vast sea of vagueness constructing unities that appear substantial but are really not in the sense that we perceive them to be.In that dance between time and space, the slowest dancer, in relation to the subject, is interpreted, by the senses, as being solid andsubstantive, the quickest one is perceived as ethereal, liquid or airy inits fleetness, and the mind, as both a necessity and a victim of time, fights on behalf of ordered space and against temporal change, trying to arrest the struggle, congeal it into a state of inertness, solidify it and make it knowable, timeless… perfect.
Posted on: Tue, 25 Jun 2013 10:08:17 +0000
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