free will, fate and soul collection

morgan pym sold his soul to the devil to save the woman he loved from death by the bubonic plague. seized by despair that clouds one's judgement, he gave in to tempatation in a moment of weakness, absence of faith. of course, in a moment of dark hunger, one fails to consider oneself and the consequences of ones actions with clarity. and so, a deal with the devil to change an unpleasant fate sounds like deliverance from one's own gruelling reality. the devil presents morgan with a reality he wants, (not necessarily the one he needs) and so, he buys it without question.

of course, no one said anything about the devil's honesty: the devil does not tell his clients that deals all have a 10-year limit. after which time, the universe demands repayment for the imbalance which the deal created. redemption of the damned soul involves correcting the balance with the individual who suffered the misfortune which the deal created (manufacturing good fortune where none exists necessarily means manufacturing misfortune to balance it out). damned souls get two days' warning of their deal's expiry ~ the devil savours in watching man squirm with anguish. when morgan pym's deal expires, the devil grants him immortality and makes him a collector of damned souls ~ the damned souls of all those who made dealings with the devil. and so begins the tale of the collector, a tv series here in canada.

i find this show fascinating, on so many different levels. however, the extremely cliche notion that the devil derives pleasure from human suffering, i find tired and tiresome. on the whole, though, i appreciate the philosophy of the show. the notion of the interconnectedness of humans ~ and that we affect the fate of others ... even those whom we do not know, have never seen, with whom we share no apparent connection. and so, to me, it underscores the importance of striving for self awareness, and seeing beyond the boundaries of oneself. it also underscores the whole mystery and mysticism surrounding free will, sin, temptation and the role of g-d and the devil in all of these matters. do we see g-d and the devil as sort of conspiring, playing some supernal game of chess, using humanity as their pawns? ... or ... do we see our existence as an extension of creation, and creation as a self-contained entity in constant motion? an ever-moving, ever expanding entity, whose course determines itself ... and whose course defies concrete alteration? where does that leave us, then, with respect to our comprehension of g-d, the devil, free will, and fate? well, it leads me to the realization that humans possess only a crude and primitive understanding, at best, of the mystical knowledge embedded within the universe. morgan pym reminds me that humanity does not know what it does not know. that knowledge exists, always, awaiting discovery. that our comprehension and capacity to grasp the universe exists as a continuum. an infinitely proportioned continuum. on that continuum, our position barely represents getting past 0 on a positive number line of infinite length.

does free will necessarily mean power over one's fate? does it necessarily mean the power to alter one's future path? how could it possibly? if one considers a giant function, involving an infinite number of variables, could one ever guarantee the particular, specific outcome of said function's action statement, based only upon changing one of those infinite variables? it sounds scientifically silly. and so, analogously does it seem silly to think that free will necessarily means the power to change fate's course. as i exercise my judgement, so, too, do billions of other cognitively independent agents. so, morgan pym reminds me that free will exists at a more sophisticated, and insidious level of reasoning. free will exists synonymously with suffering. to have free will means to know both the 'right way' and 'the wrong way' ... and to exercise one's choice based on that knowledge. free will hurts ~ because it involves stripping away the false veil of the corporeal, to which we so violently cling, to see reality as it exists. free will hurts because accountability and consequentiality inevitably follow, as the price of said free will. accountability and consequentiality which have their roots and origin in the immutable, absolute laws of the corporeal ~ of nature.

just say no to buying anything online

remember that painting i had commissioned, in memory of my late afghan hound? i have not received it, despite paying for it. know why? its apparently LOST IN THE FUCKING MAIL!

how does this happen? i am so fucking upset right now, i just want to cry. in fact, i'm quite sure tears and sobbing lie right around the corner. i have mourned this dog, so intensely, its felt so lonely. i looked so forward to finally bringing the painting home, after almost an entire year of waiting to be able to 'afford' paying it off so i could have it send to me, finally. and i find out i should have this painting by now.

and i don't. i have checked to mailbox daily. nothing. what is with this fucking shitty world, when people just can't do what they're charged to do ... what they assume responsibility for doing? why do the postal companies have a monopoly on the mail, since they clearly do not possess the competence to deliver on their service guarantees?

I'M FUCKING ANGRY. SO FUCKING ANGRY.

a dream ~ white blindness

i could see her. what she looked like. her blonde hair. feathered, and spilling over her face. covering the left side of her face, in fact. including her eye. which, somehow, i knew somehow no longer sat in its socket. something terrible, horrible had happened to her, causing her to loose her eye. and somehow, her other eye did not see. i knew this, without knowledge of how i came to this knowledge.

it felt strange ... oddly strange ... looking at this creature, who seemed as real as if in real space and time. i have never seen her before. she did not look familiar.(i often dream about people i don't know) and then ... suddenly i found myself in her. inside her. inside her eyes. and ... trapped. behind the eyes that could no longer see. and ... of course, being roxanne, i panicked. and fought the blindness. i reminded myself this blindness did not belong to my eyes. this blindness ~ a mere illusion. still, i could not see. and i felt the oppression of powerlessness. it surged through my psyche. and i tried ... with all my might to open my eyes. and then ... i awoke. in a complete and cold sweat. night shirt absolutely soaked, sticking to me.

i'm guessing that this dream somehow has a connection to a news feature i saw on blind golfers last night. one man told the story of how he lost sight in his left eye, when a puck hit it and then went to work a few days later with the damaged eye patched and then lost his right eye in a work-related accident (d/t the loss of depth perception, no doubt). stories like this weird me out because i empathize. like, that's an understatement. i feel people. yes, feel them. its trippy. i suppose its partly why i don't like them touching me. that's trippiness beyond my tolerance capacity ~ touching makes the connection more intense. my soul felt a chill when i heard this man describe in detail the events that led to the loss of his right eye. like, i could almost feel it happening. i fear loss of sight and control of limbs over all else. even over loss of life. caring for and even thinking about those afflicted by these events humbles me ... in that devastating way ... that way that reminds us what nothings we are, in the universe. how traumatic to feel this, really feel it.

and so, hence the dream. i mean, that's how my eccentric psyche processed the event.

on suffering

a fellow blogger asked, recently, “Is not our pain as much a part of our existence as our joy?” Well, IMHO, yes. and i do see pain as sometimes correct. i really see this as neither good nor bad. just … the nature of existence. and so, we do learn to live with scars, and many do never mend completely, instead laying dormant like the varicella virus. once again, such is the nature of existence. i suppose the lesson i have taken away from the darkness of suffering involves seeing pain, not as something from which we need escape, but rather as a tool ~ an entity which carves us into being.

my blogging colleague also spoke of ‘win[ning]’ against pain and suffering. honestly, not being flippant, but, i wonder. how does one win against pain? it seems as likely as conquering death ~ impossible.one makes oneself prisoner when one seeks to escape. one must understand and internalize one’s suffering. however hard this feels for us, who live in a society that feels entitled to an exclusively pleasure-filled existence.

pain, i think, seems necessary. for example, how do we know something requires our attention? ~ because we feel pain. in fact, that we feel pain means we can use this awareness to heal ourselves. if we have no awareness of said wound, as it continues to grow and fester, then … the results will inevitably lead to disaster. i’m thinking here on a physical level, from a clinical perspective … but … i think this can be extrapolated and applied to the non-physical realm.

pain seems like the universe’s way to invoke change … to get us to attend. it seems like a harsh attention-getter, at times. alas, its the only message many of us hear …i suppose a lesson of life, then, involves not eradication of pain and suffering … but what one does with (i.e. how one reacts to) this pain and suffering. and the life path thru which it leads us …

to feel no pain at all ~ this could lead to disaster. think of heroine addicts - when they get so high they no longer feel physical pain … and this can result in some nasty wounds … that also could become gangrenous if unattended. most pain, in a metaphorical sense will lead to some sort of rot, if unattended. or perhaps pain seems more like fire to some ~ mind those burning embers! at any rate ~ you have the right idea - awareness … living involves awareness, when we mostly would rather not have awareness.

and now, somehow, this makes me think of that question from the matrix ~ red pill? or blue pill? society wants us to swallow the blue pill … some, like me, refuse. i will NOT go quietly into the night with that little blue pill. i will go kicking and screaming ... i'll bite, gouge, and spit if i have to ... but i will NOT take that blue pill. EVER. EVER.

Another blogger says "scars remind us what we learned in life." indeed. so ... what about scars? they're the mark of suffering ... the signature of pain. by definition, scars can never heal completely. methinks. sure, new ’skin’ grows, replacing what’s been damaged … but the afflicted ’tissue/skin’ never functions the same as it did before. i suppose now we are talking about adapting … to new realities. and development ~ growth ~ real growth of new arteries in the vessel that is the Self.

"Affliction [i.e. suffering] compels us to recognise as real what we do not think possible.”

~simone weil

how'd they do that?

how'd they get the computer in there?

meet the newest member of the mac family ~ the imac. that's it ~ a space-aged thingy that looks like a tv screen or a pc monitor, a mouse and an aluminum keyboard! holy fuck! where'd they put everything? how'd they get all the nerdy components in there? i lurv mac!

peace ~ the elusive

for millenia humanity has struggled to achieve peace. and failed, largely. it seems we cannot sustain that contemplative state of soul suspension known as peace. it seems we need the abrasive action of friction to feel alive. why, i wonder? how can one ever reach peace if one cannot bridge one's own's purpose with one's own will? when i contemplate this spiritual struggle for peace, my thoughts invariable turn toward jacob and his struggles against despair. plagued by doubts, anxiety, and shame jacob leaves home to embark on a long lonely journey. at this time, jacob's life has bottomed out. but he resiliently pushes off the floor of his despair, to begin the long climb upward. he reaches out to g-d at his moment of greatest need - and g-d answers.

from the bottom of the abyss comes the voice of salvation. the black moment is the moment when the real message of transformation is going to come. at the darkest moment comes the light.

i currently spend a great deal of my existence searching for my own ladder, to help me raise myself from the despair that sails toward me on the winds of the passage of time. trying, and maybe failing, to make peace between my the world and purpose. its a mind-blowing and lonely journey ~ to push oneself off the floor of one's own despairs means leaving one's wounds behind. it means transcending one's ego ... or, really, emptying ... or perhaps both. it means piercing the seeming impregnable wall of powerlessness which descends upon the wounded psyche. it means embracing wisdom which the experience of despair brings to our souls. the struggle of all souls involves striking a balance between the compulsion to fulfill its corporeal purpose and the desire, as the breath of g-d, to cleave to its source. this struggle defines the action of existence. the key, perhaps, lies in bridging the gap between the corporeal and the divine. therein lies peace.

interview with a mantissa, act two

this question, for obvious reasons, deserves its own post.
so ... without further ado, i present to you
question number 3 of the cruel virgin's interview.
~ i'm still working on the final question ~

3. As a Canadian, what is your view of America?

Over half a century ago Simone Weil wrote that " ... uprootedness is the great plague of the twentieth century ..." In one of her books, The Need for Roots. I have found myself, for the past several months (since 'discovering' her) very drawn to her words and concepts of existence and spirituality. She considered America " ... a nation consisting of uprooted people bent upon uprooting the rest of the world." Indeed. I agree. In fact, in poking through some of my past, and more philosophical posts I came across this, which I wrote, about myself :

she sees the world thru her markedly mosaic lense. she realized how it colours her vision of humanity. it raises her expectations of humanity. for the beauty of a mosaic lies in its contrast of differences. she believes in the principle of equality. and so, she cannot accept that differences must all be melted into some sort of sluggish paste. that view, she sees as intolerant. equality for all means respect of each and every individual. she believes that this view makes her quintessentially canadian. the poetic beauty of the mosaic embodies, symbolically, the canadian identity.
~ me

Thus begins my answer to this question.

I grew up in the Canadian Prairies, just two hours from the 49th parallel. We visited the neighbouring state from time to time. From the people that make up the American nation, I have only received exuberance of spirit, a larger-than-life attitude toward living, the greatest (i.e. retail) service and big hearts that open up with a willingness to help when need arises. Here's a story to illustrate. Once, when I was about 8 years old, my family (4 of us - my parents and my sister, and I) went camping in a trailer my uncle let us use for a week or two. What makes this trip stand out is how complete strangers in that campsite - an American man and his family - helped us out when we desperately needed it ... when something went terribly wrong with the sewage hook-up of the trailer. We did not have a car to move the trailer (my uncle had moved it to the campsite prior to our trip) and this nice man did not even think twice ... he grabbed his truck ... hitched us up and moved us to a new spot in the campground. That's how i see the average American person.

As for the nation that calls itself America ... I sadly, and sometimes with fire, say that I see it as largely misguided ... by its lust to uproot the world at large ... by its lust for glamour, power and domination in all realms of existence ... by its lust for retribution, revenge ... and the single-minded egocentrism with which it approaches all world negotiations ... by its schadenfreude-ness ... by its exaltation of violence and destruction (the right to bear arms, WWE Raw, film/TV) ... by its refusal to reside in the world as an entirely SECULAR state ... by its spiritual egocentrism ... by its hypocrisy and sheer STUPIDITY in villifying addicts and addiction, misunderstanding addiction and in declaring a moronic war on drugs ... by its 21st century 'smoke-em-out' western-style colonialist attitude ... by its refusal, as a collective of individuals, to realize the beauty in that which looks so different as to appear alien.

I will stop now. I'm sorry to all who read this ~ i know the vast majority of you reading this answer are American ... well ... it's likely an answer you'd rather avoid reading, perhaps. But ... I have only merely answered a question asked of me; and ... many of you know of what I write intrinsically ... deep down ... whether you care to admit it ... since its your nation of which I speak, here. Please ... I hope no one flames me for this answer. I'm Just being honest.

If you wanted to swallow blue pill, I'm afraid, dear reader, that you've come to the wrong spot! ;^]