No Work, No Food.

Forgive my writing today, for in my soul burns a great fire right now. It both fills me with vigor and it makes my words and thoughts over flow. You hear at mindingwith know the sensation of having too many thoughts come at once, and struggling to give each a fair share before the next thought over whelms you, and rips your hope at clear articulation away. But I will try very hard to contain my fire, and finish each thought before I yield to the next.

This fire inside of me is venom, a venom that I am more susceptible to then most people methinks. That fire-venom of the AnitChristian, Nietzsche. I suspect that this fire-venom is a contagion, for his own writing shows every sign that my writing shows of infection. If only I had the skills as a word smith that Nietzsche had. Though in this moment there is no doubt to me that his skills developed as a response to this fire-venom, out of necessity for controlling it. What more can I say about this fire, how shall I convey the sensation? A storm of thoughts. Each thought arises, a thought that I have had before a thought that I would say is 'mine'. (be it mine by my creation, or be it mine by my acquiring it from else where matters not.) Then it starts to interact with other thoughts that are freshly arisen, and they start reacting with others in creating thoughts that are new to me. (and demanding thoughts they are: “express me! express me!” they scream.) Which thoughts, why, by what force are these thoughts collided with one another for combustion? My desire, but now I am forced to derail if I have any hope of being understood.

Last night was a symposium where, amongst other topics, arose a discussion of the future and what we each of us mindingwith, will be doing in the future. Leaving the details aside, I felt weak. I saw that I was not up to the task that is my life. I have so much idle ambition, so much an idea of my own greatness, which stands in contrast to my actual conditions. To be specific to the thoughts of the night, there is the ideal of the farm, and the ideal of the so called 'mandala project'. These are two projects to which I would dedicate my life, for I do think that between them I have found a superior way for human beings to be, I think I have found 'the good life'. Yet what point is there in finding a good life if one isn't going to live it? And that is the problem, in recent days I have become quite autistic and turned from the world. There was nothing I could do to achieve either of my projects, so I imagined fulfilling my projects. So destructive is this behavior, in small doses necessary, but in large doses it is a turning away from the world; instead of living life, it is living a fantasy (other worldly) life. Some times fantasy is a part of life, and that is well and good, a setting of goals to be achieved. But in my self I have always (since childhood at least) noticed a tendency to live in the fantasy INPLACE of actually achieving any of my aspirations. Last night I saw this in myself, and I was beside myself. This morning I read some Nietzsche, and the old dragon (Hold me to this promise: by the next week I will complete a mindingwith post “Nietzsche the Dragon”) sank his fangs into me, filling me with fire-venom.

Going back a paragraph, I left you hanging a bit. Desire? Ha! More like my fear (I admit, now that my self honesty has grown in courage a bit). Fear that I would “settle down with a nagging bad conscience, remain an ascetic and mortify myself” (On the Genealogy of Morals and Ecce homo, page 12, Kaufmann's introduction paragraph 3) because I was too weak to become the lion,and thereby, the creator [of the farm, affirmer of the tablet of values in the mandala project.] So what is this fire? Well, the fuel of the fire is my own dissatisfaction with myself. The spark is a voice in my soul that cries out for me to not fall off the way of life, that cries “Wake up” lest I fall asleep and fail to take action for my ideals. The heat is a drive to make myself have the self-control and self-discipline needed to attain my ideals, my self-mastery. The storm of thoughts, my mind repositioning itself, waking up parts gone dormant, entering a stage of higher energy and activity. Now, will I succeed in awaking, and entering my first transformation (the lion, for those of you who know Zarathustra), or will lethargy overtake me again?

In philosophy I have always had a few good instincts, a good nose for one thing. The ability to smell the health or sickness of a writer right off the bat. And a good ear, the ability (when I am willing to exercise it) to really listen to a philosopher, and truly hear what a writer has in mind. But for those great boons, I have failed to (through lack of need) sharpen my eyes enough. I can discern one thing from another, my thinking needs glasses, it is fuzzy, and quick to gloss over details for a good “gist”. To be able to ignore the details is a good thing, a safety from being entranced by elaborate, sophisticated works of reason. But to ignore details by choice, and by habit are very different things, and it makes my thinking sloppy that I have become so habituated. So how will I ensure my transformation? I will make myself strong by a routine of daily reading and writing.

Now, if you have access to 'Zen Flesh, Zen Bones' look to page 92, this will be my technique for strengthening my will. No work, no food. If I do not write 1000 words a day and read 100 pages, then I shall have nothing to eat. Soon I will add physical exercise to this project. These goals are modest, all things considered. I invite you, my friends, to help me stay focused as I begin the camel transformation.