Friday, 29 December 2017

The "bootstrap" model of the human mind

As most of you have surmised, I had a breakdown recently. Recent events, including those of my own making, had me in a tail-spin about the nature of my existence, my unfulfilled expectations, and how I've reacted badly to certain things that all human beings confront at some point in their lives.

I've spent the last decade plus, thinking a certain way, always with a shadow of a doubt and uncertainty, hoping against hope (simply because I had no other choice), that I would be reunited with my estranged daughter. This uncertainty has always been a source of my sometimes debilitating bouts of depression.

Having temporarily lost all semblance of rationality, I have confronted the utter meaninglessness of life in the Buddhist sense of the word.

See, we all go through life accumulating and assessing and reassessing the veracity of our realities and we act "accordingly"; we expect the world to have certain qualities that make our lives tolerable even when confronted in-our-face by the possibilities that only we are responsible for wrestling down the "meaning of life" and that reality will be there regardless of our stumbles and falls.

Over the last few days I've come to realize that reality has no such obligations to us. Of course we believe that it has certain qualities like 'love', 'courage', 'integrity', etc. if only to stave off the negative aspects to what we consider 'virtue' (ie, not as opposed to 'vice' but as characteristics we admire in others and want for ourselves and the world).

We talk about and celebrate greatness in our fellow human beings and their great accomplishments, some of whom are long dead. This forms part of our sense of ourselves. I do not deny the fact that I have a choice - and I think that this is what saves me from myself even in the aftermath of my rage (and I'm very much prone to losing my temper especially when frustrated by my loved ones).

But this "choice" really is a bootstrap model of my mind. My mind literally pulls itself up by the bootstraps and constructs my realities, and sometimes deconstructs my realities (which is a positive when I think in a new way).

I have found that reality really has nothing to do with my sense of self and what I think I can and have contributed to my fellow-humans. I am no more 'special' than the millions of baby sea turtles that die off before reaching maturity.

I think that I still have something special to contribute if not to my family and loved ones than to the larger world, but, as much as I love the prospect of helping, the germination and fruition of my ideas are not a given any more than I now know that I'm the product of tenacious grasping at straws but whose final end I do not know.


Tuesday, 26 December 2017

The Tetragrammaton does exist

the meaning of our lives does not exist.

The Tetragrammaton does not exist

the meaning of our lives is only an illusion.

i'm sure that I've lost most of my readers now.

But, I see G*d in my darkest hours.

He is my warmth, my thankful embrace, my focus. Upon Her my despair dissipates. But She...

Her/His existence, is decidedly "undecidable"

so I cannot prove nor disapprove the Tetragrammaton (the four-letter name of my G*d), but that the Aleph is (א) ( is somewhere prominent in the sequence of His/her name.

It is one of the vowels of He/She, that is the one, in the four-letter name.

My soul, wait only upon the L*rd. For my salvation only comes upon Him. He is my rock, my salvation, my stronghold, only upon Him shall my soul wait.

It never was

In the movie, A Beautiful Mind, the doctor tells John Nash's wife: Imagine if you suddenly learned that the people, the places, the moments most important to you were not gone, not dead, but worse, had never been.

I spent many years imagining my reunion with ... doubts and dreams and hopes for what never was.

Monday, 25 December 2017

I am evil

I done terrible things recently. I called all my loves hurtful names. Ugly names.

I did these things and am stunned by them now. But I cannot take them back. They are my badges of note.

I did all this on my own volition.

-the irony is that I hate no one nor nothing.

-the irony is I lash out on my loved ones for it.

I feel the infusion of strong emotions coursing through my veins faster than I can process it. Anger is all I feel. Explosive anger building inside of me. Tensed and ready to burst from its restraints, total abandon in my expressions of it,my existential being.

looking at the truth is raw, crippling.

It's about accounting, looking back.

Human beings were not designed to be alone

I've been alone a long time. It's an extreme kind of loneliness and it really gets to me sometimes. I sometimes suffer almost debilitating sadness and sense of hopelessness.

I know that I'm kind of different from other people but I don't think that even I was made to be alone this way.

This time of year is usually the saddest when my loneliness becomes very obvious: I don't know any of my children, don't know any of my grandchildren. It's when human touch that's been largely absent throughout the year is really absent.

I have the love of my life whom I don't live with and haven't lived with for many years now. But I've never fallen out of love with her.

Am I cursed?

Sunday, 24 December 2017

Tuesday, 19 December 2017

This our human soul and spirit

My belief in the rational and the logically-explicable is rooted in my understanding of the building blocks of constructing rational arguments and formulating general statements based upon the principle of what comes before and what comes after: the inexorable progression to the past from the present.

Then, why does my little 'i', spy upon a thing that begins with the Greek letter, π?

Let me in, I said...

...and the Lord offered me His keys to the Kingdom (Malchut: מלכות) freely and made it manifest through the sufferings of He upon the cross, my Lord, my Saviour, my God, my Everlasting Father, my Prince of Peace,

and, upon the cross, He died for me - being lanced through the ribs and to the heart where water and blood, intermingled, flowed out.

He died for me, and my sins and shameful flaws. Then, after a while, I became who He wanted me to be: me.


Sunday, 17 December 2017

The lowest form of a human being

The lowest form of a human being, in my estimation, is the "Christian" conservative. He (and I mean "he") is without any sense of humanity.

Margret Thatcher, Stephan Harper, Bibi Netanyahu, Donald Trump, RNC, "the moralmajority" (Australia, North America, and the so called "nationalists" of Quebec), are he. -I do not include Kim Jongill nor other despots of note simply because they've shown some semblance of restraint and decorum during their tenure as despicable human beings - ie, they truly and openly are tyrants, "as advertised" - not like Trump, not like Putin, in his cloak of legitimacy in the rule of law and all the while absconded of it.

He cares about nothing outside of himself because he understands little, and appreciates even less. Glitter and glam is all he knows.

He is without history, without any sense of largesse nor generosity toward his fellow humans, not even in the midst of drowning in his own good fortune. He is a middle-school bully and the selfsame victim nonetheless.

An idiot, he is. A juvenile at best. Struggling:

Life is but an ideal - the unattainable, glorious past, the bought peace (by war, sacrifice, bloodshed and treasure of others), the deserved life (a shot of whiskey in the pool, ie) bland, mediocre and forever unbearably light of being, flavoured only by shake-n-bake.

No obligations. No nothing. No sense of responsibilities to your fellow-human beings. He rides the crest and races toward "the dying of the light".

Everything is a 'snapshot of life' (Nazi Germany before the fall, ideally, flavoured by the all-encompassing stench of death-camps at high tea).

How Hieronymus Bosch. -Insisting upon a medieval paradigm and all the while drawing from and thriving upon human suffering and degradation...

Spiritually-poor and intellectually-impoverished on his own. He is a parasite.

I die and fade away from his incessant suckling. And deep I sleep.