Philosophy of the Keexzus, No. 41: Everything Is Legacy
January 24, 2015.
To open my eyes is to see nothing. To hear a particular silence. To hear only mind until nothingness. To feel energy run. When there is silence, the mind coughs up everything. To breathe and to be alive is to have everything. To feel alive is to have everything. I can only imagine how many thousands of hours I have spent reading. I can only imagine how many thousands of hours I have spent writing. At first, they were only assignments. Read this paragraph. Here’s a gold star. Learn about this subject in this way. Learn nature. Learn history, math, social studies. And then, a little more. Here is what a metaphor is. This is the simple structure of language. And one layer of language becomes clear. And with each passing assignment, with each passing book, a little more clarity became existent. It wasn’t love at first sight. First, I lived up to my mother’s expectations of me. To do well in school. A mother’s love is powerful, almost too powerful. Not scolding, not reprimanding or threats, but love. Her disappointment was more powerful than any scolding. Perhaps I couldn’t understand her. And perhaps I could. I identified with this emotion in a particular way. My only interest was language. I used to hate my older brother for not living up to our mother’s love. I used to read the dictionary. Read and reread books. At one point, I was lost in literary materialism: belief in style, structure, character. I liked the story. As do many, but that was never enough. Literature gave way to theory, language, literary and otherwise: a greater analysis. Beyond story: book. Story. Narrative. Literary tools. Style. NOT ENOUGH. Analysis. NOT ENOUGH.
Postmodernism was the Death of literature. A generation of writers relieved themselves of their duty to rise above the herd, to lift herd consciousness. Beyond postmodernism, beyond fragmentation, beyond cynicism, exists something much more powerful. Beyond a cemetery of dead white males, beyond the glorified gods of past, beyond the altars of literary and academic journals. Beyond the maintenance of stasis exists something much greater, much more powerful. Something yet to be experienced collectively. A collective energy saving us. One from within the hearts of all, machinations of the heart’s content. Behind the walls of hate, greed, and avarice, the long forgotten warmth of life, pure Being. The non-ideological foundation of one all. The responsibility of an artist is to lift human consciousness. At some point, most writers forgot this crucial aspect of their purpose. There are particular types of logic: emotional, logical, selfless, and sub categories. Logical selflessness relates to lifting human consciousness. Logical logic is ego based in logic for self. Emotional logic can be used in concert with others. Emotional, logical, selfless, illogical, Spirit, and other types of logic can relate to one another to varying degrees of presence, Absence, collaboration, and inability to cooperate. Too many want a clean, simple logical palette. It doesn’t exist as of yet. What I am aiming at is gravitational purpose. Why are you alive? Not the smart ass answer because your parents fucked, but WHY are you alive? What and why is your purpose?
Literature and philosophy have a purpose. To unveil the why. At first the why is individual, but then greater than any single one in the face of god is more. What is one person amassing wealth in an ocean of poverty? Unlock these treasures within. Everything is legacy.