death. week 9.
city. new york city
Addiction is defined as the inability to experience a healthy orgasm.
Each orgasm has a life of its own. Beginning with a mysterious birth, reaching a euphoric peak, before quickly plunging into death.
The death of each orgasm can either be fought or savored.
An addict is unable or unwilling to savor death. He grasps at the peak, holding on tightly, refusing to let go. The addict cannot be satisfied.
To properly savor an orgasm one must provide more than acceptance. One must bathe precisely in its passing away, and allow its perpetual disappearance to further accentuate and refine its fleeting existence.
To die well requires one to (a) first notice the passing(s) away, and then (b) allow that recognition to result, not in struggle, but a sort of sweet savoring. A savoring capable of catapulting each instant into holy bliss.
Feel the rhythm. Dance to it. With death comes intimacy. Death brings the orgasm to life.
Thoughts while riding the F train:
When I act from my soul, I offer up a piece of myself to the world. Depending on whether the world treats my action as a gift or as a korban, will determine how I choose to act in the future.
My life is devoted to the reincarnation of Jesus Christ.
To realize the fullest expression of both my soul and my body in a single substance. To allow god to take on life, to take on body.
I wish to shape my world so as to reflect my mind, and my mind to reflect the world. Only then can I be at peace, be at home, be in union. To accomplish this, world and mind must build infinite trust between one another.
They must grow to love one another.
The goal of my life is to cultivate intimacy between soul and body.
The goal of life *is* intimacy.
The activity one engages in when trying to build unity between mind and body.
The activity one engages in when attempting to answer the central mystery of life: the intuition that “something” is going on.
A response to the emptiness in the center of everything.
A response to the question posed by the existence of consciousness.
An attempt at knowledge of the world itself.
When you are baffled by your very existence? Philosophy!
When you notice that you are both real and non-existent at the same time.
An actor who, for the first time, realizes that they’re acting and that they’re surrounded by others who are also acting. What now? Philosophy is born from the attempt to communicate our findings between actors, to pool our resources and explicate what options are available.
Philosophy, at its root, is identical to poetry; an experience of awe in the face of existence. Philosophy becomes philosophy when it begins to reason with, rather than depict, that awe. Philosophy forgets its root — assumes it, takes it granted — and is therefore able to respond to it. Poetry never wavers in its gaze. While philosophy takes ‘existence’ as its point of departure, for poetry it is always the destination.
All philosophers are Greek poets. All theologians are Roman lawyers. The lawyer cannot live with doubt, the poet can’t live without it.
Philosophy attempts to think existence. To hold existence within thought. But philosophy always fails. Conclusion? There is something at the heart of existence which cannot be thought. It can only be kept company, in silence. Where can the heart of all things be found? Art points the way. Still can’t find it? Try drugs.
The philosopher, like the comedian, must be either very brave or very stupid (often both) to stand on a stage.