Monday, 2 December 2013

Wheen man was an animal

Wheen man was an animal, he was a model of himself. This was before he could speak. Way before he was human. But he had culture, like bacteria in a suitable environment, but culture all the same. There was the world and there were the beings that interacted in and with it, beings that were constructed according to blueprints designed to carry information beyond death. This is because there is a difference between matter and living tissue. All life is subject to death, perhaps like matter is subject to change. Animals do not need rules if they don’t have volition. An animal that learns to behave accordingly gives birth to intellect in the subjective sense. There is no knowledge of intellect in any other sense. An animal that is aware of the self and of causality is intelligent. Intuitive intelligence is intelligence encoded in the blueprints suggesting that matter has developed ways to preserve information, and this manifestation of self-organization is what defines what is alive as opposed to dead matter. This is where we stand unless there are other dimensions to matter, dimensions that contemplate on their being, preserve traces of past events. All particles that preserve traces of former being, carry momentary conditions as memories, affirm that self-awareness has a history; history that makes humanity a recent instance. What is it when matter becomes aware of possibilities? It is realization. (This is the law, and the law is of immediacy.) If an animal is capable of resisting this realization, it becomes creator, moral being.

When was that instant that matter discovered itself?
When an animal becomes aware of its own traces, of the traces of others, of causality in the crudest sense, a new level of existence is opened; a level with vast possibilities calling to being an entire medium of bodiless presence, that of abstraction, a medium born of physical being but that transcended physicality. Is this what is called metaphysics? When a trace is used to refer to something and then carried from the vicinity of the referent, this medium is realized. Again and again. Realized and forgotten. Until a trace is carried beyond the instance of direct reference; language is born, first in gestures, signals that acknowledge the presence of another intellect. Intuition had learned it aeons ago, intuition had traversed and multiplied and finally faced itself then suddenly realized that it had become other. Other than the self. Is this how intuition leaped from the blueprint, encoded in the chemical possibilities inherent in all matter, to abstraction? Is this the birth of intellect? If it is, then intelligence’s first diaries are written with nucleic acids. The animal knew then.
Still governed by tempestuous organs, the hunger of cells that know more than the being itself, abstract formulations pass in this new medium that is the mind, our novice attempts to approximate this great confused happening we see. This new organ celebrating the union of cells, of interaction and organization freed from the senseless being of selfless matter. Something is missed here. How can senseless matter realize possibilities? Through an inherent function? Inscribed in stone by what? Will to become? A need to be instead of not? Still, I would refute the concept of God in its entirety if here be any implications of such folly, that construct to which we are as of yet not even close. The time is not yet. God does not belong into this context. That warp spasm at war with history, that carrier of contradicting interests should be banned from all that has to do with the will to learn of the world and of the self. But we are coming to that, with a quantum of avarice granted, but we are coming to that. We will take a look at this senescent concept and let go of its presence, with a gentle push help it on its way among floating wreckage and crumbling ice.
We are when formulations gallop and leap after what the multiplying layers of the self hunt for, leap from the mind to being, to physicality, as traces of it are painted and uttered, forced into being by the need to know and control, and if control is impossible, to anticipate. But since other intellects can be made to know the force and intuition of one, a possibility is realized in this action, that of negotiation. Motivated by urgency, the need to reason, faced with impatient brutes drunken with power, formulates quickly . This sign carries the mental reproduction of the referent from an intellect to another. And lo, there they roam. Now is it magic? Is it magical that a reed is a reed but also brings to mind what can be done with it? The twig can be used to will to being the termites that are nowhere to be seen but still somewhere. And then this object became, no, engendered a symbol, of use, of purpose, of question, this image that is formed in agreement and carried again, beyond death even.
And the symbol acquires the ability to carry traces of the notion of causality, and other formulations, through canonized use. And instrumental ability acquires a history of its own, a history encoded in the culture of these multiplying signs, signs that travel and get lost only to reappear unrecognizable and alien. (This my letter to you got lost in the invisible air of cultures. And when you found it, my signs had left me and the moment they were conceived was history, the sentiment was something I thought could last.) And the formulations were made solid like God and authority. They were cast in stone with force that reigned now over intuition, intuition that had disputed and faltered, erred, burdened by its costive mechanisms. So it formed a league with silence and patiently went about as it had, unconvinced but open to learn, hungry in the absence of words, hungry for reason that levels these Gods that thrive on conflict and contradiction. And just the fact that these obviously arbitrary authorities exist violates another instinctual sense; justice. And like intuitive drives this sense of justice is dominant, like hunger, despite the backlash, as on recoil intuitions retreat back to animality. This same animal base is the ultimate bastion of the subjective self, but at its purest this animality is selfless, thus the self can't retreat all the way without losing itself, like forever approaching zero with the exponential increase of intensity, but in this raw mode there is access to certainty that  stops you at the threshold of to the helpless condition where the culmination of individuality becomes leveled by relativity.
There is this very human tendency to make the constant change stop in favor of an eternal self. This is monumental folly, but a continuation all the same, a continuation of intuitively compelling reasoning that blinds itself to hold on to its premises and ideas it used to believe and accept without a thought as something that is intuitive can prove to be a dead-end too. But the thought is here, consciousness is free, and God cannot stand, the bicameral mind is broken, the priest king mumbles and chirps now like mad hatter, unintelligible instead of commanding. And we as animals have taken a step aside from determination and had to accept insecurity and silence; silence of the universe. God does not speak to us anymore, and we are back to face each other in and compromise to negotiate no longer blinded by overlycompelling intuition, yet still checked by the wisdom encoded in our vertebrea, in the nucleic acids that still allow for moments of collective knowing, for even if they produced the flaw that blinded us for centuries with its sheer insistence, they are there to guide us to what our bodies need and know to be good.


The organism we are is in yet another dead end, where being important becomes just as important as everything else. The animal loses no love on that as it reduces the human self into good eatin', to fuck all with correctness, you will be replaced like the folly you are as the animal takes over from here on again and all that treasured trauma will turn into acute fear. You will kill to eat, kill to live and kill to love. You will fight and die for what the animal knows and you couldn't because of all that fucking humanity infectious and lethal like the worst of diseases. Let it go and die out like the pretension it is and see world that made you, the fury of the earth you've tried to dismiss, but it is you that are the dream and not the world. A dream that confused the animal dangerously, but you will soon be fully awake and from there on all shall be natural again and the only thing that was alien was the human that ceased. 

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