Feb 15, 2021
I do not speak much of God not because I think God cannot be spoken of, nor because I do not wish to speak of God, but because I find that speaking of him publicly encourages blasphemy. Either I will act as a drunk or a museum curator, so as to guard the pearls from the swine. Besides, too many people want to separate from the real world. Speaking of secular things and pagan spiritualities encourages people to touch into their natural dispositions. Ironically, “truth” is the best idol. A believer does not believe in their reality—for them, it is.
Good planning and good sentiment do not have to be express.
Plato grasps onto the Idea.
Aristotle grasps onto substance.
Kant grasps onto affinity, without clearly realizing it.
Phaedrus grasps onto Quality.
An excellent pairing: the film, Princess Mononoke, with the book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.
I ought to write a book that is thoroughly mythically charged. The starkness of high mountains, the sheer momentum of thought, the arrow of the infinite. Terra incognita of madness. False monisms trying to give birth to the universe. Gray tan browness of pine, tallened to the redwood stature. Wizened ages passed and forlorn. Ah, the muse returns, arrives in this surging presence.